Sunday, August 30th, 909 AB
Just after sunrise

“It’s bullshit!” the mare grumbles for the hundredth time, staring at her plate of pancakes with murderous intensity. “Spent all that time getting ready and what do they do?!”

“Nothin?” Amethyst ventures, choking back the laugh that threatens to escape her throat. While not exactly funny, per se, she can’t help but find the way the colt pays no mind to the fact that he’s in the body of a white earth pony mare slightly amusing. The strangeness of it is jarring in a way that tickles her funny bone. Having another mare grumping and complaining with all the same mannerisms as her son is so bizarre that she is struggling not to laugh, even if it probably wouldn’t be appreciated at the moment.

“Nothing!” the disguised colt seethes, jaw clenched so hard a normal pony’s teeth would be creaking. At least this time his mane doesn’t start flaring up. The damn thing woke her up more than once in the otherwise dark of the sleeper cab when his agitation over nothing happening got the better of him.

With a Sound Bubble crystal keeping their conversation private, he doesn’t bother cutting loose. “The spineless mother fuckers didn’t hesitate to send a hit squad when they’re going after some normal colt -”

Amethyst scoffs, quietly mumbling, “Not sure that’s how I’d describe ya,” as he carries on overtop her.

“- but give me a shiny fucking hat and all the sudden the pussies don’t even make a token effort! Fuck those chicken shit assholes right in their eye sockets! I oughta have one of my clones turn into a huge, fat elephant and go drop a steaming, rancid, Chipotle quality load right on the steps to their embassy!”

Amethyst watches as the mare across from her raises her foreleg in the air, ready to slam her hoof down on the table, her lips pulled back in a distinctly non-ponylike snarl that would be a lot less out of place on a mountain lion. Fortunately, the colt has more self control than that. Barely.

Cure eyes the hoof for a moment, sneering at it as if her own appendage has offended her, then speculatively glances at the table itself. Knowing full well the thing wouldn’t survive a real hit, she growls at nothing in particular, snatches her fork off the table, viciously impales another bite of her pancakes, tosses it in her mouth, and chews it far more aggressively than the soft, syrup-saturated morsel requires.

Amethyst lifts her mug and downs the last swig of her coffee, grimacing at the concoction that pales in comparison to the fare she’s become accustomed to over the last several months. It’s the little things that tell her just how spoiled she truly has become. Perfectly ripe, juicy, flavorful fruit whenever she wants, magically cultivated, impossibly decadent veggies, special talent baked sweets and treats with the highest quality ingredients.

That doesn’t even include the literally perfect health, nigh orgasmic massages on demand, or the absolutely orgasmic rutting sessions with her spouses. It’s the kind of wealth that can’t be measured in bits; something she hadn’t even noticed herself accepting as a normal part of life. She’s half tempted to ask the colt to brew up a pot of the good stuff, but with the mood he… she’s in it’s probably best just to hold off until they get to the castle.

“Cure, honey?” she softly calls, pulling her out of her reverie. “Didjya really expect that Zebrica or Minos or whoever is gonna roll the dice on starting a full-on war, not to mention piss off Celestia freaking Sol, just ta try foalnappin ya again?” She doesn’t wait for a response, continuing, “Especially after ya singlehoofedly took out a few dozen of ‘em before even becomin an alicorn? Honey, I ain’t no military strategist or whatnot, but that right there strikes me as long odds with a bad, fiery payoff.”

A heated snort blasts out the mare’s snout like an angry bull. She grumbles a few more times under her breath, quietly cursing them one last time for having the temerity to not attack the train. All at once she sags, looking like a foal staring into a cookie jar and finding only crumbs and disappointment.

“I guess not,” she weakly despairs, leaning forward enough her chin is almost resting on the table. “Is this what it’s going to be like, though?” she asks, glancing up to meet Amethyst’s eyes. “Am I already at the point where nopony wants to even try to take me on? I mean… I’m not exactly looking for a fight, but… I dunno. It’s just…” the disguised foal trails off forlornly.

Amethyst softens her look and reaches across the table, resting a hoof on the camouflaged foal’s shoulder. “Ya wanted ta show off a bit, didn’t ya?”

Cure gives a half shrug, tilting her head back and forth a little. “Sort of, maybe? Like… I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, ya know?” Amethyst nods in understanding and she continues, “I always feel like there’s this boogeyman -”

“Mare,” she softly corrects.

He rolls his eyes, “- boogeymare waitin just outta sight, watchin for the moment to strike when I’ve lowered my guard. Like some zebra shaman is gonna jump out of a shadow and launch some crazy curse or whatever. I fully expected for my drone,” her eyes flick up to the ceiling, indicating the bird she had flown overhead all night long, “to spot some tree down across the tracks or some kinda spell circle drawn on the ground or even a bunch’a troops lyin in wait, ya know?”

She sits up and her snout wrinkles. “I could almost feel it in my bones!” she forcefully declares, forelegs shaking as the muscles flex, her pectorals and biceps bulging in a way quite a few stallions would be jealous of.

“I just knew some asshole would try something to stop the train, then dozens of zebras, griffon mercenaries, minotaurs, maybe even a dragon or two… they’d rush in from all sides to either take me out or get a hold of you or maybe just threaten Bulwark’s troops - Haze especially, what with Dawn and all.

“I’d have the Warrior just sit back and laugh or say something badass like,” he briefly deepens his voice and adds a hiss, a far more spine-tingling sound than the high pitched one he gave Warrior at the station, “‘You are missstaken. I am his mother’sss bodyguard. He doesss not need one,’ or whatever. Then I’d absolutely unleash the swarm and knock ‘em all out in like two seconds, maybe blast some Firebolts or Magic Missiles or something just to look cool or hit any flyers they may’ve had.”

A small smile creeps across the mare’s muzzle as she looks out the window at the passing scenery, imagining how amazing it would have been to have everypony on the train watch in awe as their prince singlehoofedly dispatches the would-be attackers with contemptuous ease and saves the day. She blows out a sigh and turns back to the table, stabbing a big chunk of pineapple and biting it in half. Her tongue licks up the juices that threaten to run down her chin before she pops the rest of it in her muzzle.

“At least then I would have the chance, ya know?” she pauses, swallowing the fruit. “I would be able to show ‘em that there’s no point in even tryin. The only question would be if I wanna hold back showin what I can really do, or if I should just go all out and put the fear of the maker in ‘em right ‘n proper. Instead I got all worked up and ready to go then nothin. Fuckin blueballs, ma! It’s not fair!”

“But honey,” Amethyst starts, voice dripping with unusually sugary-sweet sympathy that momentarily throws Cure off, “that’s what color your coat is. Your balls are almost always blue.”

Cure stares at the mare dumbfounded for a solid three seconds. A snorted laugh escapes the disguised colt and she begins chuckling while nodding. “I can’t believe I’ve never made that joke before. Permanent blue balls…” she trails off with a sigh. “Oh well. At least I got a closer look at an airship, even if it’s kinda meh. Woulda been nice if the princess told me I had more of an escort than just Bulwark’s team.”

“Maybe she didn’t order it herself,” Amethyst suggests. “For all ya know the ship’s commander took it upon themselves to provide his highness an escort.” She shrugs and adds, “Maybe they thought they would be the one swoopin in ta save you if somepony tried somethin.”

Cure can’t even deny the possibility. “I guess. Savin an alicorn would probably get somepony bumped right up to the top of the list next time a good assignment opens up.”

“I’m sure. So… what’s the plan for us gettin back in tha royal car? I don’t reckon they’d let us just waltz on through without some questions bein asked. Questions ya may not wanna answer, if ya know what I mean.”

“Yeah. They would let us by if his highness told them to expect us. Or I could undo our disguises.” Her snout scrunches and she amends, “Well, change one disguise to another, I suppose. Or I could just teleport us directly in from our room.”

A look of alarm crosses his mom’s features as she recoils away. “Teleport on a moving train?!”

“Sure, why not? I mean, normally it would be a terrible idea, but I can see the origin and destination points, so targeting isn’t a problem. We’re already moving at the same speed, so at worst you’d just stumble a little if I used the runes to preserve momentum. I could teleport you a few inches above the mattress easily.”

“Won’t they detect that?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Again, I could tell them to ignore the teleport that’s about to happen. The beauty of being royalty is you don’t have to explain yourself, so they wouldn’t even ask why somepony is teleporting in.”

“Ah. Yeah, I suppose. What about Warrior? Gonna introduce ‘em to her highness?”

Cure scoffs, shaking her head no. “No way in hell. He’s already gone. She may not be able to feel the portal, but I bet she can sense magical signatures or something. She saw right freakin through my invisibility once without even casting a spell, so… no, I’ll save that trick for now.”

“But… last time your plants all -”

“- had the same signature, too,” he finishes, nodding in agreement. “I know. But they were my plants. They would’a been saturated with my magic. Another sapient, living being? My magic should be flushed outta their system in an hour or less. I’ll just say I dismissed him when we approached and he fucked off somewhere. Wouldn’t want to scare all the fancy-schmancy unicorns with the big, scary, bipedal lizard dude, after all.

“I transmuted the steel back and made my cases a tiny bit bigger than they already were. That took care of the biomass, and nopony should notice the difference. Oh, and by the way, we should probably get going soon. It looks like the boss lady sent her carriage to pick us up and there’s like… a whole freaking mess of ponies gathering outside the station.”

Amethyst shrugs and bobs her head in acceptance. “Ready when you are. You done?”

Cure eyes the last couple pieces of toast left on the table. His eyes briefly flick about the room, ensuring nopony is watching. With speed so quick Amethyst almost thinks she imagined it, his tongue shoots out, wraps around the half-slices of bread, and yanks them back into his mouth. She blinks a couple times, glancing back and forth between the now clean plate and the smirking, chewing mare across from her. “Mhm. Wes go.”

Teleporting onto a moving train, as his mother noted, would be an extremely difficult and likely dangerous undertaking under normal circumstances. Doing so generally requires that the teleported party be moving at a speed and direction almost matching the train’s. Failing to do so will likely result in them finding out what it feels like to hit a wall at whatever the difference in velocity is.

A factor he hadn’t considered until he began preparing for the teleport was that not only was the train traveling forwards, it was, due to the curvature and rise of the mountain, also moving in a very slight arcing motion at an incline. This caused a minor disparity between the exact direction of motion between the front of the train where their cab was located and the back of the train where the royal car was.

As insignificant as the difference was, it was easy to set up a safety net in the royal car using the excess biomass from his luggage. Suspended off the ground yet anchored firmly at a dozen points, the spiderweb-like cocoon easily captured both “mares” with ease. His mother’s artificially bolstered toughness eliminated the need for any additional bracing or safety harness.

Cure decided to have his clone warn the guards beforehoof. As predicted, nopony asked any questions about who was teleporting in or why they couldn’t wait, though Haze pointed out the inherent dangers of doing so into a moving vehicle. With his highness’s assurance that “measures have been taken,” no further comment was made. It’s unclear whether that’s because they’re trained to accept their superiors’ decisions or because they are rushing to do last minute checks on their armor in preparation for the reception awaiting them.

With the teleports and cleanup complete and little else to do, the two sit snuggled together on one of the couches in the lounge area enjoying the relative peace of the train, aware that they’ll soon be the center of attention.

The scent of mild, but growing anxiety prompts the colt to wrap his mom’s neck in a wing embrace and nuzzle against her cheek. “No need to be nervous, ma. We’ll have dozens of guards between us and the photographers.”

“I ain’t nervous,” she too-quickly insists. “Just… ya know, ain’t used’ta all’a tha attention is all.”

“All ya gotta do is walk from the train to the carriage and hop in.”

“I know.”

“Want a little anti-anxiety hit? I can kinda smooth out yer nerves if ya want.”

The mare scoffs and shakes her head no, not once looking away from the window. “I don’t need ya druggin me, colt. I’ll be right as rain, so don’t you worry ‘bout me.”

“If yer sure, ma,” he reluctantly accepts, though he does tighten his embrace around her neck. “Ya know what, momma? I just had a thought.”

“New experiences can be fun, huh, colt?”

“Har har. No, I mean, the guards are aware that somepony has teleported in. That gives me a good reason to have somepony teleport out, too.”

“Ah. Gonna send out a few bodies?”

“Basically. I’ll send three chunks to make the numbers match in case they can sense it, then combine them back together and use it to plant a bunch of starter seeds. I should be able to take over a chunk of the woods at the base of the mountain before I have to start seeing patients.”

She cocks a bow, cautioning, “Yer soundin more like a plague than a pony, colt.”

His bottom lip juts out in a mighty pout. “I’m briefly converting a bunch of trees and bushes to magic generating cells so I can better heal the members of our military and their families.” He hangs his head and lets his ears go limp, pitifully pawing at the couch. “‘s not like I’m not gonna leave it better ‘n it was ta begin with, and it’ll only be a hectare’s worth or so.”

Amethyst rolls her eyes and snorts dismissively. “Better quit it with that lip, colt. Keep puttin it out there ’n some lil birdy’ll come land on it. Ya know what ya get then, right?” Not waiting for him to answer, she bumps his cheek with her own, “Ya get bird poop in her mouth. That’s whatchya get.”

“Uh huh. Any bird landing on these lips is gonna find out about the teeth right behind ‘em. Anyhow, I’m sending out the three bodies to explain the absence of our clones and the Warrior. Gimme a sec.”

Cure doesn’t bother moving to the front of the cab and, instead, simply ignites his horn and teleports three random crates somewhere outside the train. He continues laying against the mare while staring off into the distance for a minute before nodding to himself. “Sweet. Now we need to figure out what we’re wearing. I’m thinking a nice suit like I wore on my date, maybe? Black, white undershirt, and a nice ascot in dark green to match the emerald in my regalia?” He refolds his wings and backs away a couple hooves, then sits his rump and holds his forelegs out as the described outfit forms around him. “Thoughts?”

She shakes her head no, motioning to his neck. “Suit’s fine but go with a bow tie and a vest instead. Ain’t seen anypony wearin an ascot in ages. Can ya do me up a dress too? Suppose the same green as yer tie so we’re matchin. That oughta work just fine. None of that hoity-toity frilly mess!” she quickly adds. She shakes her head, bemoaning, “Sweets’d never let me hear the end of it if she saw me in one ‘a them.”

“You got it, ma,” he easily agrees. He fishes a gold ring out of his mane and activates it, the other side of which Amethyst knows is inside the remaining crates. Setting the ring against her back, mass begins flowing out to wrap around her.

She sits upright as it creeps around her barrel, forming itself into a nice business suit just like she’d described. The dark green is a near match for Vines’ actual coat with a glossy sheen that shows off the quality of the fabric. The color wouldn’t look right at all with her normal coat color, but matches nicely with the browns and golds the colt uses for his Serpentus disguise.

Amethyst has never really been one for clothing, but she can’t help but note how comfortable the silk fabric feels against her fur. She twists and turns, rolling her shoulders to test her range of motion and is pleasantly surprised to find the suit almost moves like a second coat. Nodding in approval, she can’t help but compliment its creator. “Not bad at all, colt. How long we got?”

He looks out the window and nods towards the sun hanging just above the horizon in the eastern sky. “We’re at the summit. We’ll be pulling into the station in just a few minutes.” A firm knock on the door draws the pair’s attention. Cure gives her a quick nuzzle and hops off the couch to face the door, igniting his horn and sliding it open to reveal Bulwark, Song, and Haze peering in, each one sporting freshly buffed equipment. “Come on in, sergeants. What can I do ya for?”

The three sergeants make their way in past the completely empty breakfast tray his puppet had been brought, glancing around as if they are trying to spot some trap.

“Where did your bodyguard go, Cure?” Haze finally asks.

“Oh! Once we reached the city I dismissed him. He and my two visitors teleported out just a few minutes ago. I know how the dude looks and I didn’t want some highfalutin noble gettin their horn in a twist when his highness steps off the train with an unknown draconic creature guarding him.”

“I… see,” he hesitantly replies. Somehow, Cure gets the impression that the sergeant is a little suspicious about his bodyguard’s origins.

“Don’t worry,” Cure assures him, “he’ll turn back up when we’re ready to leave. If I know him he’s probably off lookin for a good antique store right about now.”

“Antique store?” Song echoes, head tilted to the side.

“Oh yeah, dude’s like really into lamps. It’s weird if ya ask me, but hey, whatever, everycreature needs a hobby I suppose. I don’t recommend you bring it up unless you want to sit through a thirty minute diatribe about what circumstances whatever kind of freakin oil is best under and what globe materials provide the best light diffusion. I’ll be honest, despite my best efforts I kinda mentally checked out on him out once he started goin about what kinda oil did the best at chasing away evil spirits and stuff.”

“Evil spirits?”

Cure scoffs and rolls his eyes, “I know, I know… dude’s superstitious as all get out. Besides, everypony knows sesame oil is best to keep ghosts away.”

“Of… of course, sir.” The colt can’t help but notice his mom silently shaking in laughter off to the side.

Bulwark interrupts the conversation, saying, “We came to make sure you were ready to pull into the station, but,” he pauses a moment, looking over their outfits, “I see you’ve already prepared. Arc and Reed said they spotted a formal reception, which we were not informed of,” he nearly growls, “so we figured it best to go over the protocol before we arrive.”

“Ugh… joy,” Cure deadpans, snout scrunched in disgust. He waves a forehoof to proceed, sighing, “Alright, sarge. Give me the rundown.”

With the curtains drawn and windows darkened to prevent anypony from seeing into the car as they approach, Cure is forced to watch the proceedings through his crow parked in a nearby tree.

Two carriages are lined up about a hundred meters to the west of the train; Celestia’s Royal Carriage in the lead with a squad of Royal Guards standing by its door. A second boxier, less ornate one, presumably for his luggage, sits behind it. Two castle guard squads led by Captain Shield and Lieutenant Spear stand opposite each other on either side of the pathway from the train car to the carriage and quite a few more Canterlot guard squads are blocking street traffic and keeping pedestrians out of the paved road.

Dozens upon dozens of reporters are on the captain and lieutenant’s left, just to the north of their squads, some of whom are flyers taking to the air with their cameras at the ready. Opposite the reporters and closer to the train is a sight that brings a legitimate smile to the colt; a small band of ponies with trumpets at the ready.

The street opposite the carriage is absolutely packed with hundreds of ponies, including a rather large gathering of foals, virtually all of whom are fillies, watching with eager anticipation. Some of the girls are levitating homemade signs proclaiming their love, banners of his cutie mark, or are hugging plush toys made in his image to their chests.

It’s a surreal experience seeing legitimate fans excited to greet him, but aside from the actual act of ascending, he can’t think of anything that he has done that most foals would care about at all. There have been a few dozen Canterlot residents he’s treated over the last couple months, many of whom are present in the crowd, but for the other ninety-five percent of ponies present the only reason he can figure they are present is because he is an alicorn, a prince, or both. He could imagine some mares may try to capture his eye if he were older, but at his age that seems like a futile endeavor.

He takes a moment to look at the train, noting how aside from a few employees there is little other motion. The colt has to admit that if he were one of the normal passengers he would probably be a bit miffed right now. Apparently every other creature has to remain in their cab until his highness has disembarked and been loaded into the waiting carriage. It won’t delay them very long; though there is some ceremony to the whole thing it probably won’t take more than a few minutes.

As the train pulls into the station, the two sergeants stand at attention on the landing area at the front of the car, the door open so they can let him know when it’s time for him to exit. Once the train comes to a full stop several ponies rush out, both from the station and from the train itself, presumably to make final checks and ensure everything is prepared for the passengers to exit.

Cure spots one of the engineers meet Bulwark’s eyes and give him a nod before moving on further up the train. The gray stallion lifts his right forehoof and gives the platform a mighty stomp, bringing silence to the entire station. The dozens of Canterlot guards stand at parade rest, their spears set upon the ground and held loosely at seventy degrees.

Sgt. Song marches out of the next car, her steel-shoed hooves and the butt of her spear, held straight up, tapping a staccato one-two rhythm. Her front left and right hind hooves meet metal in the same instant, alternating with her spear in the crook of her right fetlock and her left hind hoof. She trots up to the sergeants, starting straight ahead. The mare executes a smooth two second long, ninety degree rotation to her right, the click-clack of her march continuing as she turns.

Legs never stopping for an instant, she descends the steps, marches forwards exactly four meters, turns ninety degrees to her right again, walks one body length forward, then smoothly about-faces, finally coming to a halt, stopping her march, and firmly planting the butt of her spear on the ground to stand at parade rest, just like the Canterlot guards.

Her chest swells with breath and, in the otherwise quiet of the outdoor station, her smooth mezzo sounds out, “GOLDEN HILLS! FOOOOORM! UP!”

One by one in quick succession the remaining guards follow her example, lining up to the sergeant’s left, spaced out with one meter between them. It only takes a moment for Corporals Static Arc, Ricochet, and Luring Snare to march down and get in position. The privates exit next; Marshy Reed, Silent Bolt, Ginger Fizz, and Rushing Charge march down, stop even with the gaps, turn, walk a body length past their superiors, then about face to create a staggered second column.

Song sucks in another breath, bellowing out, “ATTEN. SHUN.” Every soldier straightens up, snapping to attention. Spears stand straight, heads are raised, chests are thrust out, and everypony prepares to welcome his highness. The minute, almost imperceptible turn of Bulwark’s neck signals for Cure to begin walking and the band begins to play.

An eruption of flashes fire off from the cameraponies as he steps outside, smiling demurely for the cameras and raising his right wing in a modest wave. The jewel Celestia enchanted lightly vibrates; a sign that at least one reporter is using some form of scrying. Another round of flashes goes off when Amethyst steps by his side. The two pause only a moment before turning and making their way down the stairs.

Cure is aware of Bulwark, then Haze, stepping forward and doing the same marching-turn that Song demonstrated. They follow behind his mother only a body’s length back. Cure continues walking straight ahead towards the carriage, the Golden Hills squad right-facing as he passes. Song and Static begin marching to Bulwark and Haze’s right just a single hooffall after the column of privates begin moving to match their alignment.

The captain and lieutenant, being the only ponies without spears, salute as Cure approaches. He returns it with a nod, proceeding between their squads and continues towards his transport. The crowd of ponies erupt in cheering stomps, shouts, and waves when he enters the street, the high pitched screaming of the fillies nearly drowning out any other noise. The captain and lieutenant, along with their squads, turn and follow his retinue out of the station and begin making their way to the fore and aft of his carriages.

He watches from his bird as six rail employees begin unloading his luggage, several of them quietly cursing at the unexpected weight of the boxes, then expressing their surprise when over ninety percent of the burden suddenly disappears. Cure watches intently, relieved when he sees that, at least from initial appearances, nopony appears to be trying to steal anything. He then momentarily considers that he may actually welcome somepony trying to steal one now, given his far expanded capabilities.

As he trots towards the carriage, a stray thought flits through the colt’s mind and he makes a split-second decision. The devious smirk on his muzzle is caught by his Royal Guard sergeant, apparently, as the unicorn’s eyes widen slightly in alarm. To the stallion’s immense relief, Cure doesn’t do anything out of the ordinary.

He walks up to the carriage, climbs in, makes room for his mother, and the carriage door swings shut. The sergeant blows out a small sigh of relief, turns to Sgt. Bulwark, salutes, and formally relieves him and the Golden Hills squad of their charge, never realizing the door on the opposite side of the carriage has started opening.

Cure pushes the door open, spreads his wings, and waves both them and a foreleg, sending the crowd absolutely wild. Despite his mother’s urging not to, he hops and glides down to approach the group of nearly rabid fillies. The foals surge, almost overrunning the guards lined up to keep them off the street. The Royal and Canterlot Guards rush to provide backup, slowing as they realize the situation isn’t as out of control as they had feared.

Cure makes his way down the row of fillies, reaching between the guards to hoofbump some, lean in for a sometimes overly familiar nuzzle with others, magically sign some of the plushies with his talent, or even get a kiss on the cheek from a few of the bolder girls. He gladhooves with of the adults on either side of the fillies, too, and makes an effort to offer more familiar greetings to ones he recognizes, and, especially, ponies wearing clothes denoting their healthcare profession.

Conscious of the growing impatience of the ponies still stuck inside the station, he only spends about ten minutes greeting everypony before peeling away. His horn ignites and he teleports back into the carriage doorway, turned to face the crowd.

He infuses his voice with power to be heard by all in attendance. “As much as I would love to individually greet each and every one of you,” he calls overtop of the quieting mob, “I’ve been told many, many times by my sire to not keep a mare waiting. As kind and patient as the princess is, I am neither bold nor foolish enough to risk finding her majesty’s limits. Thank you for the warm reception, Canterlot! I will look forward to meeting more of you as my schedule permits! Until next time!”

The fervent screams cut off at once when he steps back and pulls the carriage door shut; the sound baffling enchantment activating to silence the outside world. Cure blows out a sigh of relief, wings and shoulders sagging from the dwindling adrenaline fleeing his system.

“Look at you,” Amethyst teasingly mocks from the rear bench, “such a little schmoozer. Yer lucky ya didn’t get plucked clean by them fillies, colt.” Cure turns and maturely blows a raspberry in response. Amethyst rolls her eyes, but shifts to the side, holding her forelegs apart in invitation for the colt.

His suit melts away in an instant as he hops up, turns like a puppy, and flops with his croup against her chest to lay with his back down her right leg. His left wing reaches up and wraps around the right side of her neck to pull her chin down on top of him in a hug.

“Mm… like the new scent,” she comments, snuffling further into his wingpit for a moment. “Orange ‘n cedar?”

“Yep. Figured I can’t be smellin like cookies in disguise. A few did try to sneak a feather off’a me, but those things are anchored in real good. The only thing any of them got was some strands of my tail or mane that they snapped in half while tryin to pull.”

“Seriously?!” she asks, the exclamation vibrating her throat against his left side. “Huh… they’re bolder’n I was at that age, that’s fer sure. ‘Course there weren’t no alicorn colts runnin ‘round back then ta fawn over. Y’alright?”

He nods, nuzzling against her chin. “Mmhmm. Glad yer here, though.” He leans back, planting a kiss on the mare’s cheek before laying back down. “Thanks for coming, ma. I know you didn’t exactly sign up for all’a this when you and Lemon decided to join in the insanity.”

“Shit, colt, it ain’t no big deal,” she lies, the scent of her anxiety not escaping his notice. “‘Sides, I get ta spend most’a tha next week ‘n a half doin whatever I want at the Royal Castle. Again! Puttin up with all’a that?” she scoffs, waving at the door with her left hoof, “That ain’t no big thing at all.”

He gives a half shrug, refurling his wing to release her. “Well thanks anyhow. It looks like they just about got my luggage secured, so we’ll be heading out in a moment. And… I think Shield and Spear are headed this way. Guess they’ll be joining us.”

“Want me ta let ya up?”

“Hell no,” he insists, nuzzling against her chin again. “If they got somethin ta say then I friggin dare ‘em.”

“Good,” she declares, nosing at the side of his muzzle before she fully settles down on him. It’s only a moment later when the carriage’s left door opens up. Neither Cure nor Amethyst react other than tilting their heads to glance in that direction. The armored mares climb into the carriage and remove their covers, strapping the helmets to their right hips, close the door, and hop onto the opposite bench.

The unicorn’s heated scowl is met with a smirk from the colt. “Really, sir?” she huffs, more annoyed than angry.

“Sorry, captain,” he insincerely apologizes, “but what’s the harm? I know I didn’t delay the schedule.” He inclines his head as much as he can under his mom, motioning to the carriage behind them. “They’re still strapping my stuff down. Honestly I should’a just teleported all that crap and saved everypony the trouble.”

“The harm is that somepony could have done something. You have guards for a reason,” she flatly explains.

“I understand that, captain. Humor me for a moment here, okay? Do you know what that reason is?”

The mare purses her lips, clearly understanding what the colt is suggesting, but not giving him the satisfaction of answering. Instead she turns away and blasts another huff out her snout.

“Look, I get it,” he assures her, craning his neck so his mom’s left foreleg acts as a pillow, “I went off script. When I’m going to do stuff like that in the future -”

“Don’t!” she insists, her head whipping back to face him.

“When I do that in the future,” he forcefully repeats, “I’ll at least give you all a thirty second warning.”

“And if you’re always ignoring the cordon, what are you going to do when somecreature inevitably tries something?”

“Take them out and pray that I’m the only one they hit. You’re severely underestimating me, Captain Shield. I am not just some ordinary foal, you know.”

She gives him a disbelieving look which, given the way he’s being held by his mommy, strikes him as somewhat fair. “Hey,” he whines, “I like snuggle time as much as anypony. I’m a cuddler. Sue me.” Amethyst’s laughing doesn’t exactly help. When the mare continues staring incredulously he rolls his eyes and pats his mom’s foreleg to let him up. “Fine, fine, a demonstration,” he sighs in disappointment.

“I don’t know -” Amethyst begins, cutting off when he tiredly waves her concern away.

He sits on his rump just ahead of his mother and turns to face the two mares. “Watch, captain, and neither of you freak out here, okay? I will be fine,” he insists.

“There’s no need -” the lieutenant begins. Her jaw falls open and she recoils away when his head jerks violently to the left, rotating a full three hundred and sixty degrees to face back towards them. The snapping crunch of his bones fill the cab, firing off like a chain of explosions. She half gasps, half shrieks in terror as she inhales a lungful of air, her motions, minus the flailing wings, and mannerisms matched by the unicorn beside her.

Amethyst reacts as well, though more with disgust than horror. She turns away with a harsh cringe, her whole body shuddering at the extremely upsetting sound.

“See?” he mildly asks, neck still twisted like a wrung towel. “I’m perfectly fine,” he assures them. They both watch warily as his head rotates back around. For show more than anything, he rolls his neck and head around, snapping a few vertebrae back in place. “The only way somepony could hurt me is if they manage to blow me to pieces - small ones at that - or incinerate me completely, and having one of your guards between me and that kind of attack would just get them killed anyhow. Okay?”

He cocks a brow at the two mares, both of their backs still firmly pressed against the front panel of the interior, still staring at him like they’re waiting for him to fall over dead. He holds his forehooves up and fake lunges with a shouted “Boo!”

Both mares scream and jump away, the pegasus landing atop the unicorn in a pile at the far end of the opposite bench before they both fall onto the floor in a heap. Both Cure and his mom burst out laughing at the absurd scene, their revelry drawing more than a few curses from the mares as they finally get control of themselves. Cure, meanwhile, climbs back between his mom’s forelegs and settles back down, still shaking in subdued laughter.

“Feel better now, captain?” he teasingly calls out.

“No!” she sternly growls. Hissing between clenched teeth, she continues, “I do not feel better, your highness.”

“Please,” Lt. Spear begs, her left hoof pressed against her chest over her heart, “please, please, please never do anything like that again.”

The colt’s laughter subsides and his look softens. “Alright, lieutenant. I won’t. Probably. Still, you don’t have to worry about me so much. I am, after all, the Alicorn of Life. I will not be discharged from my duty so long as Life remains.”

Amethyst raises her neck to look down at the colt in shock. Both officers stare wide-eyed, frozen in place by the force of the declaration. The colt deflates with a sigh, closing his eyes and resting his muzzle on his mother’s foreleg.

The silence is only shattered by his growled exclamation.

“Fuck!”

The carriage ride is relatively quick, mostly owed to the heavy guard escort closing down the main route between the station and the castle. The colt’s tail betrays his excitement, swishing merrily against his mother’s side upon their arrival. As the carriage is being pulled into position, the front doors of the castle open wide and Princess Celestia strolls out to greet him, moving languidly but still quickly making her way down the stairs with her ridiculously long stride.

He impatiently looks between the still-closed door and the two mares a few times, his youthful exuberance earning a quiet chuckle from the officers.

Finally the “tonk” of the step lowering sounds out and the door swings open. Lt. Spear and Cpt. Shield intentionally take their time standing, dusting off their armor, tightening their straps, inspecting their helmet, and only when a serpent’s head pokes out and hisses from under a barely raised wing do they quickly don their cover and make their way out, quietly snickering the whole way.

“Ladies first, ma,” he insists, bonking his cheek against her shoulder to get her moving.

“You sure, colt?” she teases. “Ya seem a tad eager.”

“I can count on one hoof how many ponies truly know me that aren’t my parents, mom. Now either ya git or I’m gonna tie a string around ya and float ya out like a balloon.” Rump parked on the floor, he crosses his forelegs over his chest and leans forward, doing a poor job at intimidating the much larger mare. “Which is it gonna be?”

She snorts and shakes her head, dismissing the colt’s empty threat. “Yer lucky I ain’t carryin ya out by yer scruff, brat,” she grumbles, climbing out the carriage and giving him a playful swat with her tail.

Cure climbs down, giving a respectful nod to his guards as he passes by and catches up with the officers just as they come to a stop to offer a salute to the princess. She returns it with a nod, shifting her gaze to Cure and smiling broadly. “I welcome you to Canterlot Castle, Prince Serpentus and…” she pauses, inclining her head and humming in consideration.

“Minerva should work,” Cure suggests. The suggestion gets a raised brow, prompting him to explain, “A name associated with commerce. I figure that’ll be appropriate given her talent.”

Celestia regards Amethyst for a moment who shrugs and bobs her head in acceptance. “Lady Minerva, then. I had castle servants prepare your room and draw you a hot bath so that you might take some time to recover from your journey. If you would like, we could have lunch together, then retire to discuss the plans for the coming week.”

“Sounds great ta me, yer majesty,” the mare quickly agrees, lightly bowing her head in thanks.

“Me too, boss. Just one thing before we head in. Captain Shield said you were going to have everypony come to the castle for their screenings.” Though phrased like a statement, the colt’s tone conveys the question.

“That is correct. Staff will begin setting up tents near the north gate this afternoon,” she says, turning to look in that direction. “If you were looking to the west then you likely noticed them packed in crates upon your arrival.”

“Perfect! If I could make a small request, I have a crate set up to prepare my worksite.” He looks over his withers and nods towards the carriage laden with his luggage, lighting his horn and teleporting one free from its straps to land just to his right. “There’s no need for them to set up tents with this baby,” he boasts, patting the crate fondly.

“Just have somepony set it in the middle of the clearing and step away. It’ll grow into a treatment room, reception area, waiting lobby, and a refreshment stand all on its own. It’s something I was going to take with me to Filly, but that one won’t need all the bells and whistles.”

She gives the box an astonished look. “That sounds simply marvelous! I cannot wait to see how it works! I do have one small concern, given the nature of your creations. I presume it will not leave the area depleted afterwards, correct?”

He shoots her a pout, whining, “C’mon boss, you know me better than that.”

She shrugs and nods in acceptance. “Very well. I had to ask. The groundsponies would be exceedingly unhappy with me if I were to simply assume and left a patch of the grounds barren as a result.” She gains a smirk and adds, “Of course, I would simply point them in your direction and wish you good luck. I am uncertain whether the trip to Baltimare is long enough for tempers to cool prior to their arrival, but perhaps you would survive their wrath.”

“Gee… thanks, princess.”

“Doubt they’d do worse than he does to himself,” Cpt. Shield grumbles too loudly to not be heard.

The princess casts a curious look between the two, the younger averting his gaze and coughing into the crook of his fetlock. The princess takes in his abashed demeanor and, in her typical patient motherly tone, asks, “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” he too quickly replies. Between Amethyst’s quiet chuckling and the two officers’ side-eyed stares he somehow fails to sell the deception.

The princess gives him a wounded look. “You promised you would never lie to me.”

“But I really didn’t do anything! Sorta. Mostly. I just reassured the captain she has no reason to worry for my safety. That’s all,” he innocently insists.

“By twisting his own head around like an owl,” Cpt. Shield adds.

Lt. Spear shudders, quietly bemoaning, “Ugh, the sound alone…”

“Buncha tattletails. That’s what y’all are,” he huffs.

Celestia rubs at her brow with her pastern, shaking her head in disappointment. “Please refrain from further traumatizing my staff, if you could.”

“I’ll do my best, boss!”

“I would appreciate that. Now,” she looks at the boxes with some alarm, “which of those has the bug samples you wished to be tested.”

“That would be this one right here,” he indicates, teleporting another right in front of himself. “You gotta see these, boss!” he insists, reaching for the latch on the front of the box, “I bet you’ve never seen a mosquito this big before!”

Both officers quickly take a few steps away. A golden aura surrounds the case, clamping it shut despite the colt’s efforts. “Do not even think of opening that here!” she breathily commands. A quick glance around reveals that several of the patrolling squads stopped to glance in their direction. The mare plasters on a fake smile, waving them on while still firmly holding the box shut.

“No fun. Don’t worry, boss, I was just teasin ya. There’s no giant mosquitos in there waiting to leap out and lay a buncha larvae in yer wings or anything,” he assures her, waving a hoof dismissively. “They’re all dormant anyhow. The box is keepin ‘em all alive and fed and whatnot and there’s instructions in there on what you have to do to wake ‘em up and designate a target for them to go after. Even if I pulled one out it would just kinda sit there for now.”

She breathes out a sigh of relief. “That is good to hear. I will have somepony deliver this for testing, then when the opportunity presents itself we can discuss your other product ideas.”

“Sounds great, princess. I’d love to have a sit-down with somepony to go over all of them.”

“I am sure we can arrange that,” she agrees. “For now, go on,” she says, tilting her head to the entrance. “Rest, recuperate, and we will talk more about the week after lunch. A servant will be by shortly beforehoof to escort you to the dining room.”

“Sounds good princess,” he agrees. “There’s just one last thing,” he insists, hopping closer and sitting on his rump. He spreads his wings and forelegs wide and looks up at the princess with big, watery eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

A laugh erupts from the mare at the pouty display. Still shaking with mirth, she lays down on her barrel and returns the warm greeting, pulling the colt against her chest with a foreleg. “You need not make yourself look so pathetic for a hug,” she lightly chides.

“No, but it doesn’t hurt ta be sure,” he insists, nuzzling against the side of her neck. He leans heavily into the embrace and softly murmurs, “It’s good to see you again, Celestia. In the flesh, that is.”

“And it is good to see you, Cure. I am relieved to see you made the trip with no adversity this time.”

The colt scoffs and nods against her. “Lucky for them,” he grumbles.

“Of that I have little doubt,” she earnestly agrees, separating from the young alicorn. “Go on, now. Get cleaned up and we will talk more later.”

Even though Cure insisted he didn’t feel like he was tired, Amethyst still convinced him to lay down after a warm, calming bath. Having such a convenient alibi was too good to pass up, so after putting his body in a state of apparent sleep he instead focused on the pegasus body he had fly down to the base of the mountain.

Though there is some shrubbery on the mountain’s south side, much of it is bare rock with insufficient soil to support large amounts of vegetation. That wouldn’t be a significant issue if Cure were not attempting to remain undetected, but he’s fairly certain somepony would raise a fuss if the mountainside were to suddenly and inexplicably erupt with life. He isn’t confident he could convince anypony that his presence alone caused such circumstances, and a magical signature scan would certainly indicate he has a more direct hoof in its spread.

It is oddly prophetic, he considers, that his mother accused him of being more like a plague than a pony. The way he spreads through his plant is almost exactly how a virus would take over a host. In order for a separate entity to become more of himself he has to “consume” it. While eating something in the traditional manner works, so does subsuming it from the inside out.

Wary of intruding into the Everfree proper, Cure limits the spread to the area just south of the mountain. He figures as long as he doesn’t venture beyond the train tracks running from Ponyville to Detrot then he shouldn’t, hopefully, have anypony - or anydeer - show up demanding to know what is being done to the forest.

He makes a mental note to ensure that, before he leaves, he converts any consumed plant’s cells back from the enhanced alicorn variant he is using to the standard found in the plants as appropriate and sever any underground connections he is currently using to spread surreptitiously.

It would not do well to accidentally create some kind of biological Tantabus, after all, and Celestia would probably be a little disappointed in him if a gigantic plant monster were to climb up the mountain and start eating her ponies.

Lunch was a simple affair; Celestia, Amethyst, and Cure enjoyed a quiet meal of soup, salad, and a buttery vegetable pasta. Conversation was kept light. Amethyst beamed about the foals and talked about the properties the two of them had found around town. Celestia excitedly went on and on about the preparations for the upcoming school year. Cure was all too happy to talk about all of the patients he’d helped over the past couple months; the stories about foals, in particular, bringing a smile to the eldritch mare’s muzzle.

The three retired to an elegant study after lunch. Cure, not wanting to make his mom feel like a third wheel, quickly joins the disguised mare, laying snuggled between her forelegs. The room is a little unusual compared to most of the ones he’s seen the castle thus far. Rather than the typical bright, well lit rooms with light decor, this one is far darker than he’s come to expect.

The flooring is a soft, smooth, heavy material with a dark golden and red alternating diamond pattern that, despite likely being older than any non-alicorn pony in existence, still shows absolutely no signs of wear. Bookshelves line the walls filled mostly with, from what Cure can gather from the few marked spines, law books dating as far back as six hundred years ago.

Some of the shelves only come to, for an adult, chest height, leaving a gap along the wall filled with portraits of ponies whose names Cure doesn’t recognize, most of them having a formal title such as Lady or Countess. Each one must have been important to the princess or the nation, as they are perfectly preserved despite their likely age. Each display is lit with soft yellow lighting, their frames hoof or horn carved meticulously in ornate patterns.

The sofas, like the shelves, are crafted from a dark mahogany and have a thick, deep red cushioning. Even the throw pillows are luxurious; each one is made of a golden silk with long, smooth ruffling around the edges that tickles the colt’s cheek.

The three get comfortable and enjoy a few moments’ peace while their food settles before they begin; the more subdued ambiance of the room making Cure want to curl up and take a nap for real. Eventually the silence is ended by the elder; Celestia, after flopping half on her right side, casually mentions, “I understand you hired a mercenary to provide additional security on the way here.”

“Well, given what happened last time I traveled here by train, could you really blame me if I did?”

“Not at all. I do not feel as if it were necessary, exactly, but I certainly do not fault you being overcautious. I am, however, curious where this mystery being may be at present. Based on his description I would expect him to have difficulty blending in.”

“Ah, but looks can be deceiving, princess,” he teasingly retorts. “I am, after all, an expert when it comes to camouflage. Being a bipedal, digitigrade creature, it would be relatively simple for me to disguise him as a minotaur, for example.”

“And is that what you did?”

“No. Why? Do you really want to meet him or something?”

“I would, if for no other reason than to convey my thanks for his service.”

“I’ll make sure to introduce you before we head home if you would like. I figured the xenophobic nobles would get their hackles up seeing their prince being escorted by a non-pony creature, so he teleported off the train once we arrived in Canterlot.”

“I see. You do not know where he is at present?”

“At the very least he’s not within range of Sending, so logic dictates he’s off having fun somewhere.”

The princess stares between Cure and his mother for a moment before seeming to accept his answer. In a sickeningly sweet tone she continues, “Regardless, if he could spare a moment before your departure, I would like to see this Warrior. I had, upon first hearing his moniker, expected to hear a similar description to the ‘armor’ you used during the minotaur attack. Sergeants Bulwark, Haze, and Song both described a very different being; one who was very clearly not you, as he arrived prior to your arrival at the Baltimare Station after departing from Base Carol.

“While there are, no doubt, some races out there I have never encountered, and there are possibly some I have never even heard of, I am shocked to find that not only did you encounter one, you convinced him to work for you. Even more amazing, he somehow convinced you to trust him with your mother’s safety.” The mare punctuates her analysis with a raised brow and an expectant look.

His mom’s continued laughter doesn’t exactly help.

Cure makes a series of ugly, disappointed looks, finally giving in with a whine. “Fiiine!” the colt grumpily huffs. “Can’t have any good secrets around y’all.” The colt raises his right wing slightly and levitates a matched pair of rings out from under it.

Celestia scoots to the edge of the couch and accepts them in her magic, bringing them closer and looking intently at the etchings. “A… portal?”

“Yep. Observe. Without freaking out, preferably, please.” He levitates another set out from under his wing, pouring power in to activate them. A tendril snakes out next, poking through the one ring to emerge out the other. The tendril protruding through the portal blooms, quickly engulfing the remote ring in a sphere of biomass.

Celestia’s eyes go wide as a second, miniature Cure takes shape. The miniature flaps its wings, flying itself over to the princess’s couch, growing in size the entire time. It climbs between the princess’s forelegs and flops on its right side, resting its head just above her knee.

The mare looks back and forth several times, unsure at first how to react, all the while the duplicate continues to grow in size.

“And this,” she looks down at the clone, “is merely an extension of yourself?”

“Yep. No evil clone, no separate psyche, no nothing else you may imagine.”

The clone rolls on its back to look at the princess, retracting its horn in the process and says, “Yeah, boss. I’m only a tiny bit evil. Like,” it holds its hooves millimeters apart, “about that evil. Tops. Heck, I’m probably less evil than him,” he insists, jerking his head towards the other pair.

“That… is amazing, Cure!” she excitedly beams, though she, disappointingly, does not shower either original or clone in the usual affection. She passes the unactivated rings back to Cure who quickly stows them away while reeling the active one back under his wing. “And I am relieved to see that you were wise enough to bind them. Without such measures it could have been disastrous should somepony with ill intent gain access to one.”

The colt cocks a brow, tilting his head in confusion. “I did what now?”

Celestia regards him for a moment, similar bewilderment to his own flashing across her face. Realization dawns and she begins giggling, the melodic laughter warming his heart despite the knowledge she’s likely laughing at him. “You… you did not even do so intentionally, did you?”

“Uhhh… of course,” he unconvincingly insists. He pats Amethyst on the foreleg and requests, “But just so my mom is on the same page, maybe explain it like we’re a couple layponies.”

“Smooth, colt,” the mare in question chuffs. “Totally bought it.”

Celestia sighs fondly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Tell me, Cure Wave, exactly how did you create these?”

“Umm, the way the book we read together said to? I cut the rings, buffed ‘em smooth, laid them on a platform with the ritual circle etched in, filled the channels with… oh.”

“Blood?” she knowingly asks, her eyes all but shouting her amusement.

“Well the book suggested crystal infused ink, but I figured alicorn blood with dust mixed in oughta work as a good substitute.”

“Indeed it would, clearly. Just know that should you desire to create objects for others to use, that ink will likely be the better choice.”

“Sure thing boss. So… only me or any foals I have would be able to use these, huh?”

“Likely, yes,” she nods. “Also, I am unsure whether that would apply to foals with a typical dam, given that they will originate from an earth pony, in a way.”

“Ah. Oh well, I think they’re only really useful for me anyhow.”

“Likely so,” she agrees. “Presumably, then, your bodyguard was such a creation?”

“He was. Is. Whatever. Puppeting a body like that comes with some drawbacks, unfortunately. I still only have one brain -”

“Debatable,” his mom interjects.

Not pausing to acknowledge her jab, he continues, “- so doing two things at once is ridiculously difficult. The assembly of the building outside, for example, slowed down some while I was putting him,” he motions with his muzzle to the clone, “together.”

“Yeah, so get down here and gimme alicorn snuggles ta make up for it,” the now almost full-sized clone insists, scooting further from the mare’s chest and holding its forelegs open in invitation. Celestia all too happily obeys and is soon rewarded with a set of hands deftly massaging at the base of her ears. “Yesss,” he teases, “obedient princesses get ear scroofles. Who’s the good girl? Who’s the pretty princess?”

“I know this is not the real you,” she mildly says, casting a warning gaze to the original colt, “I will not hesitate to exact a toll for such insolence.” The clone freezes in place. “I did not say to stop!” she quickly adds, humming contently when the petting resumes.

“I knew a mare of such wisdom would see the benefit to my creation,” he proudly declares. “And that’s not all. In fact, how would you like an after-lunch snack?”

“I suppose I could be convinced to partake, depending on what you have in mind,” she declares with faux hesitance.

The colt’s horn glows with power as he focuses on the body he diverted at the start of the conversation. As soon as it became apparent that Celestia had connected the dots he had sent his pegasus on an errand to, hopefully, bribe away any incoming repercussions.

A white box flashes into existence, hovering in the air between the two couches, caught in his aura. He turns it to face the elder who, reluctantly, sits up to pull away from the clone’s ministrations. The lid lifts to present a fragrant strawberry cake to the mare whose eyes sparkle in delight.

“Fantastic!” she cheers, her wings dancing against her sides in glee. Her horn ignites for a split second, teleporting a service tray laden with cutlery and plates from somewhere. She fires off another spell just as quickly, the feel of a Sending going out familiar to the colt. Just like his had in the carriage, her tail betrays her excitement as she cuts up the cake.

Cure struggles to hold back a laugh when she cuts it into quarters, the portions absolutely ridiculous even taking into account ponies’ typically absurd appetites. Amethyst accepts hers with thanks, nudging Cure to move so she can dig in. The young alicorn reluctantly gives up his spot, sitting beside his mom and accepting a piece that’s slightly larger than his entire face.

“I see how it is,” the clone huffs, folding his forelegs across his chest. “Everypony else gets a treat and what do I get? Jack squat! Friggin clonists, that’s what y’all are!” A look of mortification flashes across the princess’s face as she begins to put the last piece on a plate. “No, no!” the clone calls out, waving his hands for her to stop. “I’m just messin with ya, Tia. This thing,” he pats his chest, “doesn’t even have a GI tract built in it.”

She breathes out a sigh of relief, setting the piece back into the box for later. Whether that relief is from knowing she’ll get to finish the cake or that she didn’t inadvertently offend anypony is unclear, but Cure suspects it’s the former every bit as much as the latter.

Celestia’s slice is, unsurprisingly, gone well before the other two can finish theirs. While eyeing the last piece speculatively, the castle servant’s knock at the door diverts her attention. The three take their time to enjoy the delivered refreshments, Amethyst in particular seeming to relish the much higher quality coffee than what she was subjected to on the train.

“Go ahead and send it to your room, boss,” Cure suggests, smirking at the ancient alicorn’s look of relief. “We all know you’ll give it a good home later. Maybe save it for after dinner.”

“But… dinner should already have a dessert planned,” she weakly protests.

“Who said ya only get one dessert?” Amethyst asks. “Last I checked, yer in charge ‘round here anyhow.”

Resolve bolstered, Celestia nods in acknowledgement. “I suppose if you insist. Thank you for the lovely cake, Cure.” Her horn glows briefly again, disappearing the cake off to some, no doubt, secure location for later consumption. “Now, while we do not have overly much to discuss,” she pauses to lay her head back down on the clone, who dutifully begins petting as soon as she is within reach, “you do need to be aware of the schedule.”

“Really?” Amethyst laughs. “Yer completely fine with him havin a double runnin around the city?”

“Yes?” the mare questioningly affirms. “I have no cause for concern. In fact, if anything, I am somewhat envious of that ability. Presumably you have begun to take advantage of this ability to further obfuscate your identity?”

“I have,” he confirms, swallowing down the last bite of cake before levitating both his and his mom’s Cleaned plates to the service tray. He eyes the mug of coffee sat between her forelegs with a sliver of envy and, reluctantly, snuggles against her side instead, resting his chin on her right foreleg knee. “While I’ve been working at the hospital I’ve also had a second ‘me’ hanging out with mom and my dam. I’ve only had the rings the last few days, so it’s not like a lot of the townsponies have had a chance to see my double walking around while I’m working.”

She nods in approval, saying, “And neither have the reports from my agents had time to arrive yet.”

“Right. The neat thing is that I’m free to alter the second body much more than I can my own. I don’t have to worry about messing up hormones or doing anything dumb with a brain or anything like that, so the clone can be anything as long as it’s slightly larger than the rings themselves.”

“I… see. That does open up a number of possibilities.”

“Yep. For example, I had a bird flying a few kilometers ahead of the train overnight. Since it’s receiving all its nourishment from me rather than its own body it is more or less inexhaustible. I knew about the reception at the train station before we got halfway up the mountain because of it. Thanks for that, by the way. The band?” He brings a hoof to his muzzle and blows a chef’s kiss, “Magnifique, ma bella jument!” he declares, pausing the clone’s scritching to hug her head.

Celestia giggles, fanning herself with a hoof. “Such a charmer. Je ne savais pas que tu parlais prançais,” she easily responds.

“Yeaaaah… I don’t speak Prench, exactly,” he admits. “I could probably understand it, but committing the words to memory doesn’t exactly convey fluency, unfortunately.”

“A shame, and something perhaps for you to work on. Back to the topic at hoof, though,” she pauses, sighing in contentment when the clone switches from massaging her ears to running its fingers through her mane, lightly scratching with dulled nails against her scalp. “Maker above, I could get used to this. Back on topic,” she forcefully begins, “your normal patients from other cities have already started arriving. Typically during the competition the Guard rents several hotels in Canterlot as well as in Forest Heights and Brightwood. Since you are here a week early, a number of the rooms closest to the castle have been set aside for your patients’ use.”

“Oh, neat. As nice as Baltimare is, I’m betting they’re happy to have a free day in the capital instead.”

“Indeed. Though some are departing immediately after you treat them, the RHA, in partnership with the Canterlot Chamber of Commerce, has agreed to cover the bill should any desire to remain an extra night.”

“That was darn nice of them. I’m guessing they’re hoping to promote a little tourism in the future.”

“Exactly. Over the past few weeks we have given the officers you will be seeing an opportunity to book slots with you over the coming days, staggering them as needed and as coverage during travel allows. Between my generals, the colonels in command of regional forts, the lieutenant colonels and majors that report to them, and other crucial, but less public officers, there are approximately two hundred and fifty ponies and their families that I would like you to see.”

The colt winces and turns away. “Oof… that’s a lot in, essentially, three and a half days of work if you discount the out-of-towners.”

“It is,” she agrees, “which is why, despite how much I would like to have you see all of them, I have, for now, limited slots to only the highest placed amongst them. As much as a lieutenant colonel or major could wreak havoc if they were not who they claim to be, since many of them are directly subordinate to somepony you will be scanning, I have instructed coordinators to defer those ponies - and other creatures - to a later date. That brings the number down to a much more bearable seventy-four patients and their families.”

“Still a lot if they have big families, but doable assuming they don’t all have a bunch of stuff wrong with them.”

“Most of the ponies in such positions are older and will not have many foals to bring along. Some have requested an exception due to an older foal having some sort of condition they would like you to remedy. Those have been granted, of course.”

“Good. Have you considered coming up with a schedule for the future to see the rest?”

“It was proposed, but given that you will be living here full-time in approximately a year, I did not feel it urgent enough to further burden you. Given your new ability,” she nods into the clone’s chest, “if Cure Wave is attending school then, perhaps, Prince Serpentus can be available during the week to see patients when lessons allow.”

“That sounds like a plan, boss. Any thoughts, momma?”

Amethyst shrugs and shakes her head no. “Nah, not really. So long as yer still able ta fly home on the weekend ta visit with us and yer dam, especially, I can’t say I’m spottin any flaws.”

“Cool. We had already talked about me seeing other guards members during my stay, so this’ll work out great.”

“Excellent,” Celestia quietly cheers. “We will hold off making arrangements for now. Perhaps we will revisit the topic come next summer when the date approaches. I would, at the very least, like to give you a few weeks into the school year to acclimate before I ask that you begin seeing ponies.”

“Cool. So… when are we having our duel?”

Amethyst snorts out a laugh and Celestia lazily rolls her head to her left, eyeing the colt like he’s an absolute moron. “You cannot be serious.”

“Why not?”

Amethyst bonks him on the head with her hoof. “She’d slap ya all tha way back ta Baltimare without tryin, ya idjit.”

He shoots a quick glare at his mom before turning back, “I don’t think she would do quite as well as y’all think she would. Do ya wanna hear what I think?” he leadingly inquires.

“I simply cannot wait to hear,” Celestia replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I think you’ve gotten rusty.”

She blasts a snort out her snout. “A rusty pike still pierces a flimsy shield, little one.”

“Oooooo, she’s got ya there, colt!” his mom heckles.

“Guess that depends on whether there’s still some steel under that rust or if it’s all wasted away.”

She turns to give him a scathing look. “I assure you, Cure Wave; there is steel enough below any imagined rust to pierce any defense. You will not find me such an easy opponent as the foals and bats you entertain every Saturday morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, a single brow cocked high on his brow.

“Definitely,” she insists with a firm nod.

Cure pauses to idly look at his hoof, inspecting the wall for any minor imperfections. “So… how’d ya like the cake?” he asks, smiling broadly enough to reveal two elongated fangs dripping green ichor into his mouth.

The mare opens her mouth to respond before the words even register. Mouth hanging slightly open, a million questions about what he could have done to it flash through her mind. “You. Would. Not. DARE to defile CAKE!” she growls, the air around her heating rapidly.

The colt scoffs and shakes his head no. “Of course not, Tia.” More softly he adds, “I would never do anything like that to you. I promise. Still… got ya thinkin, didn’t it?”

The mare snorts like an angry bull, shaking her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe you would even jest about such a thing.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, boss. I may not do something like that to you normally, but you set hoof into a ring with me and it is on.”

“You truly believe you would have a chance against me,” she says in astonishment. “You do know that even the Dragon Lord found himself lacking, and that was nearly a millennium ago.”

“I would wreck Torch’s whole week in an instant, boss. You and the Shadow are the only two beings on this planet I’m even the slightest bit worried about for now.”

“Oh? What of Sombra, my sister, or Chrysalis?” she lightly mocks.

“Emphasis on the ‘for now,’ boss. Sombra and the Nightmare won’t be a problem for ninety years, and Chrysalis, despite potentially being a problem, would probably do something pridefully dumb that would end up screwing her over. Besides, by the time I’m an adult she’ll be a non-issue.”

“Mmm… I suppose, assuming your knowledge is accurate. Regardless, I will not be taking you up on your offer to put you in your place.”

“Ba-gawk.”

“What. Was. That?!”

Cure folds his forelegs in tight to his chest, stands on his hind legs, and starts pecking at the surface of the couch, using his wings to counter his weight. “Bok bok bok BA-GAWK!” Amethyst rolls away laughing as the colt does a rather impressive chicken impression.

“I see I need to have a word with your dam,” she growls. “Clearly she has not raised you to be more respectful to your elders.”

“Says the mare getting ear scritches and a scalp massage.”

She blows out a hard sigh, shaking her head. “If you truly insist then perhaps later this week I will be able to find a few minutes to properly educate you.”

“Really?”

“Do not sound so surprised, little foal. I do not see it as an opportunity to soothe some bruised ego, but as a demonstration on how dangerous it is to underestimate opponents such as Chrysalis. I do not believe you properly grasp the advantages that age and experience convey.”

“Cool. We should probably do it somewhere that nopony can see us. Don’t want all the guards losin faith in their indomitable leader.” Another scoff sounds out. “Do you have a private room here?”

The alicorn scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I do not have a fighting ring inside the Royal Castle, Cure. There are plenty of rooms for such activities in the guardhouse just outside. I will have a five minute slot set aside one evening this week.”

“Five minutes, huh? Well at least you know your limit.”

“Whoop his ass, princess. The colt needs a right-proper ego checkin.”

“Oh do not worry about a thing, Lady Amethyst. I will be sure to teach him a very thorough lesson.”

“Ooo. Sounds scary. I’ll be sure to pencil in some ‘shaking in terror’ time later this evening. By the way, Blueblood and his daughters are here.”

Celestia blinks at the non sequitur. “Oh! You detected them via the piece of luggage growing the tents?”

“No, I still have my bird flying around. They walked in the castle about a minute ago, so I probably need to get rid of him,” he nods towards the clone, “before they get here. Senior very loudly asked the guards where ‘Young Prince Serpentus’ might be located before he even made it to the door.”

Celestia sighs aggrievedly but does, reluctantly, rise up off the clone. “Fantastic. And, of course, I failed to request that we not be interrupted, so -” a knock interrupts her sentence. The clone gives a quick wave goodbye before disappearing in a flash of light, earning a quick pout from the mare. She schools her features and sighs a second time in only a few seconds, turning to look at the door.

“Brace yerself, ma. May wanna turn yer ear sensitivity down a notch.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” is the simultaneous response from both alicorns.

Warning presumably heeded, Celestia calls out towards the door, “Enter.”

The word no more than exits her muzzle before the door is flung open, the stallion’s voice flooding in in an instant mid-complaint. “- supposed to know which sitting room is in use when there are dozens of them in the castle?! Is everypony truly so busy that not a soul can be spared to provide escort?! No, no, don’t bother apologizing,” he tells some unseeable castle servant further down the hall. Misty Twilight and Azure Tiara primly prance through the door as he continues, “your services are no longer necessary. Thank you and good day.” Dismissal delivered, he pulls the door shut and blows out a truly exhausted sigh, likely worn from the burden of dealing with commoners.

The girls don’t wait for him to finish and rush towards the princess, hopping on the couch to join her with twin excited greetings of “Auntie Celestia!” Both are wrapped in wings and forelegs as soon as they climb up, the ancient mare lighting up at seeing her adoptive nieces. “Tiara, Twilight! How wonderful to see you!” She spares a look to the approaching stallion, calling, “Nephew, how fare you on this beautiful Sunday afternoon?”

“Wonderful, Auntie!” he responds, trotting up to accept a nuzzle from her before turning to Cure and his mother. “And warm greetings to you, as well, young Serpentus, my lady,” he smoothly greets, reaching out to his mother for her hoof.

“Heya, Blueblood!”

“Howdy, yer highness,” she greets back, reaching back out for a hoofbump.

“No, no! Blueblood in private, my dear,” he says, scooping her hoof up and planting a kiss on her pastern. “How should I address your esteemed self?”

His mom blinks a couple times in surprise at the formality, recovering to stutter out, “We’re goin with Minerva for now.”

“Lady Minerva, then,” he agrees with a brilliant smile. He gives Cure a shallow bow and explains, “When my sweetlings heard of the festivities upon your arrival they insisted they be allowed to come greet you in pony. Sadly, Junior and my dearest are unavailable at the moment; I do hope you accept their deepest regrets for their unavailability.”

“He’s hanging out with his fillyfriend!” Misty faux whispers, earning a shoulder bump from her older sister.

Cure hops down off the couch, greeting Blueblood with a hoofbump and wrapping each filly in a wing hug. “No big deal. I’ll be here a couple weeks, after all, so I’m sure we’ll have a chance to get together.”

“You certainly will!” Blueblood declares. “After all, I fully intend to make good on my promise!”

“Oh, right! Some… uhh.. Chateau something?”

“La Chaumiere de Velours,” the stallion corrects.

“Right. Velvet Cottage. Got it. Sounds awesome.”

Blueblood melodramatically gushes, holding a hoof to his chest, “The experience is absolutely to die for! I simply cannot wait to share it with you.” He pauses to regard the other two mares. “Of course, all are welcome to join. Auntie, Chef Garnish would be positively ecstatic if you could attend this coming Friday, I am quite certain of it.”

“Very well, nephew, but I do have plans that evening, so please make the reservations for no later than six o’clock.”

“Plans?” he curiously echoes. “Whatever might you be getting up to, auntie?” He leans closer, giddily inquiring, “Perhaps some lucky stallion is seeking the most desired hoof in all the world? It has been entirely too long if that is the case.”

Celestia inclines her head and gives a disdainful sniff. “Mine plans are my own, dear nephew. I shall thank you not to pry.”

A mischievous smirk crosses the stallion’s muzzle. “Very well, very well, I shan’t tease you further.” He reaches down and nuzzles his youngest’s mane with his snout. “I believe Misty had a request for our dear prince, should he be willing to hear her out.”

The white filly shoots her sire a small pout before turning back to Cure, shuffling nervously on her hooves. “If you’re not too busy, Tiara and I were hoping you could join us this coming Saturday morning.”

Cure glances between their sire and the elder alicorn, looking for a hint of what he might be agreeing to. “I… don’t think I have any plans for Saturday yet. Why? What’s going on?”

The filly positively beams at the news, nearly vibrating on her hooves. Her sister lights up as well, even if more subdued than the younger. “Wonderful!” she excitedly cheers, bouncing lightly in place. “I’ve told everypony at dance class how marvelous you were.” Cure feels his heart sink as she continues, “The silly fools insisted that a former earth pony, alicorn or not, couldn’t poss-”

“MISTY!” Tiara shouts, wrapping her forelegs around her sister’s head to clamp her muzzle shut. “You shouldn’t have told him that!” she hisses, releasing her hold.

Both Celestia and Blueblood school their features entirely too late for their cringes to escape Cure’s notice.

“What?” Twilight defends, “It’s not my fault they believe pegasi to be the superior dancers!”

“Eh, from a purely technical standpoint, I could see it,” Cure grants, “what with their weight altering abilities, that would probably make them appear more graceful. I’m not super into dancing, but if you’d like, I could come and watch a class or maybe join in for something, assuming I don’t have anything urgent come up in the meantime.”

Only his honed reaction speeds from guard training allow the colt to not be bowled over when the younger filly launches herself at him in a hug.

Author's Note

So I saw a few comments where folks were hoping something happened. I considered it, but, in the end (obviously), chose to go with the route I figure is much more realistic.

There's a dozen reasons why making the attempt would be a terrible, terrible idea, first and foremost being that attempting to assassinate foreign royalty is absolutely an act of war. Hell, we saw exactly that happen about a hundred and ten years ago, didn't we? Doing so and getting caught - as the squads did last time - would likely result in literally every ally (assuming you have any) turning their back on you if not outright joining the other side.

It would also make it completely acceptable to kill off whatever dynasty is in charge of said nation, something that even total war usually stops short of doing. Would Celestia have some zebra's foals murdered? No. Would they ever have the opportunity to be in charge of anything again? Hell no, they wouldn't.

Not only would that be a direct attack against the nation, but it would also be an indirect attack against the princess herself. After all, she's famously failed to produce a foal for over a millennium. Now there's a male of her species, and absolutely everyone fully expects her to start pumping out foals as soon as he's old enough. And I'd bet a pretty penny that a lot of folks would be very, very lenient with what they consider "old enough." Anywho - depriving her of that would absolutely get someone a burninating.

So yeah, long story short, there's a whole bunch of reasons why trying to take out the colt is a horrible idea, and I will always do my best to avoid having a "stupid evil" antagonist.

So I could use a little feedback here on this first part. Obviously, Cure and Amethyst were the two mares that bought the tickets for a room close to the front of the train. Seeing as how he was in the body of a mare, I used female pronouns throughout that first part. One, because, again - Mare, but also because I personally found it amusing (as did Amy). Should I switch all of those out for male pronouns or just leave it as is? There's a good chance that Cure will do something similar in the future, so this won't be the only time this comes up.

We have a few ponies that have not really ever been mentioned before. That's mainly because I never went over everyone in the "other" group of guards that went with Cure to the gym along with Sgt. Haze. There was, of course, Sabot (an earth pony) but he left the guard sometime over the summer. Thunder Dance (Drift's dam) went with him also. Tailwind even commented on that once - I think it was when Cure went there for dinner, but I'm not 100% sure that's right. That still leaves 3 other ponies that are permanent, full time guards that we didn't get introduced to. Ginger Fizz and Luring Snare are two of them. The former is an earth pony mare that took over Sabot's position and the latter was never mentioned before the last chapter. Marshy Reed is the pegasus that Bolt warned off some chapters back. Descriptions of the five in Bulwark's team were back in the chapter titled "Cooper Team."

Haze’s team:

• Private Marshy Reed

  • Pegasus mare
  • Light, pastel green coat, darker green mane

• Corporal Luring Snare

  • Unicorn mare
  • Lilac coat, bright yellow mane

• Private Ginger Fizz

  • Earth pony mare
  • Dull golden coat, bright green mane

Small disclaimer - I don't speak a lick of French (or Prench, for that matter). I did the whole 'run the translation back and forth a few times' trick and it seemed to accept it, so good enough for me.

I'm sure someone won't "get it," but the reason why Cure has guards, or at least what he's implying to Cpt. Shield is the reason, is for appearance's sake. He's a prince, so he should have guards. He's flat out telling her he doesn't really need them to keep himself safe.

So, the chapter is coming in far, far, FAR later than I had wanted. I'd put a story comment up this morning saying it would be late. I got absolutely no time in this weekend thanks to friends and family visiting. Such things happen, I suppose.

I may take next week off so I don't have this happen again. We'll see. Either way I'll at least drop in to put a comment up if I'm going to take the week off.

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and commenting especially. Hopefully y'all weren't too disappointed, but what can I say? It's a little early for Cure to be going to war.

Enjoy!