Tuesday, September 8th, 909 AB (seconds later)

The three in the Royal Box watch on as Rush basks in her victory. Once the cheers and shouts begin to settle, she runs out of the arena and almost tackles the bat stallion in a hug, squeezing him tightly against her hard chest and armor before releasing him with a parting slap on the plate covering his withers. Cure can't help but snicker when he hears an “oof” from the dude as the hit lands, but aside from rocking a little he doesn’t otherwise seem any worse for the experience.

As the engineering team begins removing her gear and Colonel Mayday approaches to offer his congratulations, Celestia risks a glance over Amethyst’s back at the colt. She had noticed a shift in his demeanor nearly an hour prior when the pressure from his ambient magic had begun to gradually settle. The anger she felt has now completely disappeared, whether it be thanks to the young private’s well earned success or the passing of a few minute’s time.

It only takes a fraction of a second to discount the likelihood of the latter, which means that he is either ecstatic about his home team’s win or, maker help her, he’s found something else with which to amuse himself.

Out of habit more than any hope of actually finding anything amiss, Celestia glances about to see if she can spot a puppet of his nearby. It’s a futile attempt, she is well aware, and there is no subtle way to cast the spell to detect magical signatures, especially with so many experienced mages around. It’s all but guaranteed that the colt would sense it as well; he is, if nothing else, keenly aware of his surroundings at all times, even if for no other reason than to detect an incoming attack.

She makes a mental note to say something about that. Eventually, that is. Bringing the subject up so soon after the attempted foalnapping is far, far more likely to end in an argument than it is to help. No, now is a time to celebrate his hometown team’s victory. Even if his assistance and guidance may have tipped the scales somewhat, Private Charge certainly earned the cheers and adulations being heaped upon her.

She can only hope that the Golden Hills team doesn’t outperform everypony too much or there’s going to be a lot of questions from the media. Suburban regional teams typically struggle to even qualify for the Squads Competition, let alone defeat the metro teams with their larger infrastructure and training budgets.

“A fantastic performance,” she earnestly declares. “I am sure you are quite proud to see a local guardsmare winning the first event.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely!” he exclaims, still clapping for the victor. “Hey, I never thought to ask, what will they get when they win?”

Chuckling warmly at his confidence in the team, she answers, “A certificate and ribbon in recognition of their achievement, as well as a trophy that they get to display at the precinct as long as they are able to keep their position. Naturally, the notation added to their records can only help if or when they seek to promote or apply for an officer’s position.”

He half climbs on his mother’s withers, nodding along as she speaks. “Gotchya… so no week off from work or paid vacation or anything?”

“In a way, they are already getting a week off with pay simply by qualifying. Their room, board, travel, and most of their meals are free, and their immediate family’s travel expenses are reimbursed.”

The colt shrugs his wings and bobs his head in acceptance. “True, I suppose.” He pauses for a moment and looks out over the field before turning back. “Hey, just so you’re not caught off guard by it later, I’ve got a stall I set up with a puppet.”

Celestia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, bracing whatever craziness is about to be dropped on her withers. Amethyst sees her reaction and begins shaking with laughter, evidently finding great amusement with her princess’s plight.

“It ain’t that bad!” he quickly assures her. “And you!” he growls, reaching his right wing over to poke at his mom’s cheek, “Yer no better! Both ‘a ya actin like I’m some kinda nuisance or something!” The mares share a commiserating look, earning a pouty glare in return.

He folds his forelegs over his chest and huffs in annoyance. “All I did was set up a fertility clinic in town, and before you go worrying about it tying back to me, I’m using the disguise of a zebra shaman - a mare!” he quickly adds, heading off Celestia’s look of alarm, “and pretending to use alchemy and a ritual to do everything in an enclosed wagon.

“And before you ask, yes. I am charging twenty-five bits for most services since askin for nothing would make ponies suspicious.”

Hesitantly, Celestia begins, “I… suppose that is not too bad. A traveling shaman selling their services is not common, but also not unheard of. With that being said, I am sure one doing what you are would garner significant attention, especially since there would be no prior record of her existence.”

“I figured I’d get some attention from them and, possibly, from our own folks as well. That’s another reason I said something. If somepony comes to you with info about ‘Madame Adiah’ then you’ll know the mare doesn’t actually exist.

“Which they very likely will,” she agrees, nodding in understanding.

“How many ponies ya seen so far, colt?”

“Only about ten couples.” Voice laden with exasperation, he explains, “Shock and dismay; not a lot of ponies are willing to roll the dice on an unknown shaman’s unproven treatment, even if it’s pretty cheap. That’s fine,” he says with a resigned sigh, “my plant will become public knowledge soon enough, so there’s always next season. At least, as far as the whole colt thing is concerned.”

Amethyst gives the colt a slow nod in approval. “Not bad at all. Gonna do somethin like that back home too? Don’t need yerself a disguise back in Baltimare. Should be a lot easier ta pull off.”

Cure turns back to the princess and raises a single inquisitive brow. She doesn’t need to mull it over for even a moment before nodding. “As long as you understand they may assume you are responsible for this shaman. Then again, the more likely presumption is that you learned of her activities and decided to duplicate them.”

“Assuming they don’t already know about the plant I have in testing,” he agrees.

“They should have no way of knowing,” she instantly dismisses. “Everypony involved in the testing has agreed to keep it confidential.”

“Uh huh,” he disbelievingly grunts. “Twenty bits says one of those excited dams blurted out something to somepony about how thrilled she is to finally be having a colt.”

The princess grimaces, sagging as she begrudgingly admits, “I… would not be terribly surprised if somepony told their family despite the measures put in place. It is a significant event for those who have tried for years to no avail.” She sucks in a deep breath and sighs, shaking her head. “Regardless, I do appreciate that even during your leisure time you are doing what you can to help our little ponies.”

The colt’s eyes light up for a moment as he opens his mouth. He pauses and leans back, turning to face his mom. “Whatta ya think, ma? Is ‘our little ponies’ close enough? Can I get an official ruling here?”

The mare mulls it over, slowly tilting her head side to side. After a moment’s consideration she reluctantly shakes her head no. “Nah. ‘Sides, colt, havin a mornin pick-me-up is all well ‘n good, but I don’t think anypony needs ta see us enjoyin it this early.”

“Fine,” he sighs, reluctantly acknowledging her point. He turns back and gestures to the princess, pointing back and forth between his eyes and the mare. “I’ve got my eyes on you, lady.” A roll of her eyes is the princess’s only response as she turns back, watching as the Corporal Rank bouts start to get underway.

It’s only about fifteen minutes later that Corporal Ricochet finally gets her turn to step out. The crimson-maned mare rears up and meets Rush in an up-top double hoofbump before cantering energetically around the front of the arenas to get suited up.

Her opponent is an earth pony stallion from Seaddle with coat and mane colors nearly matching Cure’s sire. Lacking his very own Alicorn of Life, the guy is noticeably shorter like Deed once was and lacks the thicker build his moms have come to appreciate so frequently.

The two fighters trade a friendly hoofbump before she teleports herself to just outside the farther arena’s border and trots in. It doesn’t take a lot of magic to teleport such short distances, especially for an adult. It still strikes Cure as a somewhat foolish waste of energy, even if doing so that easily may be a valid method of slightly intimidating the opponent. The main concern he has is that in a contest formatted like this one, unicorns in particular have to try to take it easy when they can.

If a unicorn is forced to expend a lot of magic during a single fight they’ll likely end up losing the next one, no matter how good they are. The math is simply not on their side; earth ponies have near infinite endurance, and pegasi aren’t very far behind on that metric. The quick bouts, one after another with little time to recharge in between, definitely give the other two tribes an advantage over unicorns, who are capable of doing a lot more damage very quickly, but at the cost of needing a moment to recover between fights.

That said, if there is a time to show off then it’s during these earlier rounds. At least she’ll have a little time to recover before her next one, but that won’t be the case in later matches as the number of remaining fighters dwindles.

Equipped with a shield and short spear, the earth pony takes up his place opposite the mare. At the signal to begin she immediately fires off a beam, forcing the stallion to duck behind his shield. He expertly deflects it up and away, launching it into the air at an angle with only a slight grunt of exertion. It splashes harmlessly against the arena’s shields, brightly illuminating the barrier erected to protect spectators from wayward attacks.

The corporal doesn’t stand still when he begins his charge, turning to run towards the corner behind her and on her left. Another beam fires off from her horn over her back, forcing the stallion to raise his shield again. Instead of aiming directly at him, the beam strikes the ground in front of him, blasting him with a spray of grass and dirt and giving her time to gain more distance.

The stallion shakes his head to clear his vision and resumes his charge, quickly closing in on Rico as she turns to her right to try to circle around to his right side. With him in pursuit, she fires another beam over her back. The audience is momentarily perplexed, as the lance is launched up into the air instead of directly at the stallion.

Rico runs a short distance then stops in her tracks, turning to face the still charging guard. She lowers her head with her horn glowing brightly. A thick panel shield appears between the two, halting the stallion’s charge and sending his spear skidding up into the air. Meanwhile, the bolt fired in the air bounces off the arena’s ceiling, banks down against the side barrier, and smashes into his left hind leg. The impact knocks his leg out from underneath him and sends him tumbling into the dirt, leaving his side and belly completely exposed.

Rico doesn’t pass on the opportunity, firing a Stun bolt directly into the inside of the stallion’s back thigh to end the fight. Cure isn’t sure if the aiming was intentional; she may have simply been aiming for the largest unarmored part of the stallion visible, but it sure looked like she just tried to blast him in his crotch. It’s not like the dude was sitting still for her, so she may have just aimed for his barrel and fired away, but it still garners more than a few winces and gasps from the crowd even if he wasn’t actually hit by a real attack.

“Damn, Rico,” he quietly chuckles. “No mercy on the field of battle, huh?”

“A win’s a win, colt.”

“That it is,” he easily agrees. “Still, remind me never to step in a sparring ring with her. I bet every male out here is thinking the same thing, even if it was just an illusion.”

“It ain’t no holiday for a lady, either,” his mom reminds him.

“No, I bet not. Especially with the way a real stun bolt kinda zaps the whole area. Oh well, good win, I say.”

“It was an interesting way to win,” Celestia agrees. “I can only assume at this point that everypony on the Golden Hills team is well versed on using their special talents given that a beam attack should not normally bounce off of the shield walls like that.”

“Maybe,” Cure noncommittally agrees with a shrug, earning a withering stare from the elder alicorn.

“Gettin a little warm on my left side,” Amethyst quietly grouses. She sits up on her rump, bodily picks Cure up, and unceremoniously drops him between herself and the princess. “There. Stare away, yer majesty,” she offers, laying back down on the colt’s right.

Cure pouts at his mom to no effect, though the princess’s baleful gaze is obviously just for show. She seems to be making no effort to disguise the amusement leaking into the air around her.

Passing the warming lube over to the blushing pegasus mare, Madame Adiah assures her, “Yes, my dear, that is absolutely correct. The tingling warmth will help him get,” she leans in closer to whisper, “fully erect,” then stands upright to give the blushing mare room. Still speaking softly, she suggests, “If this is an ongoing concern and you desire a real cure, then have him come by. I’ll resolve it for sure.”

“You… you can?!”

Adiah shrugs and nods her head. “His dysfunction is something I am sure I can heal. Come along with him and you’ll see he can be harder than steel.” Adiah has to stifle a chuckle when the mare’s wings start involuntarily poofing out.

The two are interrupted by a mare running up with a notepad and a pen, calling out, “Pardon me, you are Madame Adiah, correct?” The disguised colt’s stomach sinks when he turns to regard the intruder. A quill is levitating in her aura, a notepad floats by at the ready, and a “Forest Heights Herald” ID hangs from her neck on a lanyard. A unicorn stallion trails behind her with larger saddlebags and a camera floating to his side.

Cure had a few expectations as far as what he might accomplish with his newest identity. Helping some families finally have the son they’ve always prayed for, playing a part in the creation of dozens of lives that may otherwise have never existed, maybe even make a few bits with some of the more cosmetic treatments.

One thing he hadn’t counted on was garnering the attention of the media, especially after only being open for a couple hours. It was probably a little foolish to expect he wouldn’t attract a decent amount of attention. His trek through town turned hundreds of heads, and with so many unicorns from Canterlot coming down to watch the event, somepony sending word back up to the city proper was all but an inevitability. Still, he wouldn’t have been heartbroken if it’d taken a little longer for it to happen.

At least the unicorn isn’t asking for “Kataba Matobo.” Assuming that the vendor permit mare wouldn’t know the Zebrican word for “whore” is one thing, but it’s far more likely that a reporter, or at least somepony she works with, would know the language. Then again, insults aren’t always covered in language classes, so there is a chance that even an advanced non-native speaker would not know its meaning.

Overall, he figures it is unlikely to become an issue; nopony should have a reason to pull the actual vendor permit form unless something happens, and ponies are, generally, far too insular to bother learning another language. Even if they do find out, she can just say that she objects to some of the tribe’s practices.

“I am indeed she,” Adiah responds with a dip of her muzzle, “though I do not recognize who is calling for me.

“Fantastic! I’m Sharp Insight from the Herald!” she says, reaching up to tap her badge with her right fetlock, then offers the hoof out for a bump. “We received a report about your clinic this morning, and I was hoping I could have a word. It’s been years since we’ve had a zebra shaman at the event, and I was hoping we could just ask a few questions about what all you’re offering!”

“To answer your questions would be my pleasure. Feel free to ask away at your leisure.”

“Great! Thank you so much! I’ve never interviewed a real shaman before! So… a fertility clinic? What all can you do?”

“Illnesses, injuries, and deformities of all sorts I can banish away. Helping creatures build families is my special talent, you could say. If there is any issue related to the creation of life, it falls upon me to eliminate that strife.”

Insight bobs her head in understanding as her quill scribbles away at the notepad. “That’s amazing! And as for the services listed here,” she motions to the sandwich board sign, “I see that there’s some… ahem… additional options as well.”

Adiah smiles broadly and bobs her head in a nod. “There certainly are a few extra selections I offer, and it is those that I use to fatten my coffers. For anything that is considered a medical need I accept the bare minimum instead of surrendering to greed.”

“I see. And, if you don’t mind my asking,” she lowers her voice and smiles broadly, leaning closer, “have you had many takers on the less… medically necessary options?” Despite her attempts to sound neutral, it’s not difficult to detect the slight pinking of her cheeks.

“As you can see the price is quite steep. Not many ponies have pockets so deep. I have also only been open a short time, and my location is far from what I would call prime. I am sure that at least a few will try them out, and word will spread, of this I have no doubt. At least, that is what I hope and I pray, as it is those purchases I use to truly earn my pay.”

“Oh? So you aren’t actually making any money off of fertility related services?”

Shaking her head no, Adiah explains, “I charge only the small amount that I must, as not charging at all may stifle others’ trust.”

“I don’t suppose you would be allowed to tell us what kind of ingredients go into your creations, would you?”

“Unfortunately not, my young reporter friend. To share such secrets would lead to my end. Shaman secrets are guarded more than a dragon’s own hoard. Disclose too much and end up stiff as a board.”

Wide-eyed, the mare almost hesitantly asks, “They would kill to keep the recipe secret?!”

Adiah laughs fondly and nods, explaining, “Of course they would, you sweet innocent mare. Do you think that nozebra has ever wanted to share?”

“Right, but to think they would… you know,” she says with a wince, tracing a hoof across her own neck.

“Those with power do what they must,” Adiah disagrees with a shrug. “I’m sure they think their actions are just. Regardless of that mess, I believe we have strayed. Politics are complex, so let’s focus on my trade.”

“Right! Of course! So one of your services is gender selection. How, exactly, does that work?”

“For the sex of a foal the stallion is key, so to convey desired results it is him I must see. Though the exact method must not be explained, the female seeds he carries must be contained. If the seeds of the fillies are simply ruled out, then only a colt could possibly come about.”

“So… it’s not so much that you’re increasing the chances of a colt directly, but instead just removing the chances of a filly?”

“Precisely.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a few ponies that are a little doubtful. What do have to say to any would-be detractors?”

Adiah pans her gaze to the camerapony stallion who has been taking pictures occasionally during the interview. With a wicked smile she turns back to the mare, “I have a suggestion that may dispel any such doubt, but I am not sure if you’ll care to hear me out.”

Insight gives the smiling zebra a cautious look. “Ohhkaay? What do you have in mind?”

“I understand that a ratio testing kit can be easily obtained. I will demonstrate my ritual on him,” she says, pointing to the camerapony, “so the truth can be ascertained.” Several of the ponies nearby browsing her wares or simply watching the interview look on with interest at the suddenly blushing stallion. “Take this stallion and be on your way. Test him once and return later in the day. I will perform my ritual on him, then you need only test it again. I’ll do this for free with only a small request; that you include in your article the results of the test.”

Two pegasi mares trade a flurry of blows with each other in the air, much to the amazement and glee of the watching audience. The speed and agility that the two are displaying, while not nearly as refined as what Cure witnessed during the Wonderbolts show, is leagues above anything he saw during the prior set of matches.

“I can’t help but notice that there’s a pretty significant divide between the privates and the corporals in their fighting proficiency,” he idly comments. “I’m pretty sure that if Solar were here he would… Well,” he pauses, “I’m not sure he would get completely wrecked, but if he won it would be much more of a result of his changes than his ability. For now.”

Celestia merely bobs her head, fully focused instead on the martial display. “Which is exactly why the ranks do not have to face off against each other. You should expect a similar, or perhaps even more stark, increase in aptitude amongst the sergeants, lieutenants, and even captains. Years of service and experience alone have taught them well, and they have had far more opportunity to take advanced classes that the younger guards have not.

“I am sure that by the end of his time at Maelstrom, Cpl. Strike will be every bit as capable as anypony else at his rank. Possibly quite a bit more, given his … gifts.”

“True,” he concedes, “he was pretty excited about the facilities there. I’m sure with a bit of experience he’ll be an absolute monster. Especially if he uses all the venoms.”

Celestia idly nods in agreement, then goes stock still. “Venoms?!” she hisses, turning to stare in abject horror. “You gave him venom glands?!”

“Duh? Quite a few, in fact. His teeth, the deployable barbs on his hooves, uhh… other places.”

“Other places?” the mare echoes overtop Amethyst’s guffaw. Sighing in resignation, she begs, “Please tell me you did not give him the ability to… to… urinate venom.”

“What?! Of course not! Sweet maker above, lady,” he cries with a cringe, “can you imagine how much that would burn coming out?!”

Celestia’s whole body shudders at the suggestion and she violently shakes her head no. “I cannot, nor would I ever want to know.”

“Exactly. I mean, I could make it so you don’t feel it, I guess, but as a delivery mechanism I kinda feel like if you’re in a position to use that then there’s better ways to go about incapacitating somepony. Less humiliating too.” Belated he rushes to add, “For them, that is. Though I guess it probably wouldn’t seem proper for, by all appearances, ‘his highness’ to be takin a leak on somepony. Regardless, no, I did not add a venom gland to that particular piece of plumbing, even if it wouldn’t have been too difficult.”

“I am relieved to -”

“It’s in his butt.”

Amethyst absolutely cracks up, burying her face under her forelegs to muffle her laughter.

“... excuse me?!”

“What? You saw how effective rear-firing weapons can be. They work great on both princesses and light mechs. Stupid pulse laser Flea bastards,” he growls, shaking his hoof angrily in the air. Celestia subtly scoots a hoofspan to her left. “Anyhow, there’s already a pretty effective gas dispersal system already in place back there, so if ya just pop a silencer on that blaster and let it rip and you’ve got yourself a real crowd pleaser.”

Seemingly of its own volition, Celestia’s left forehoof comes up and presses against her forehead.

Amethyst chimes in between laughs, saying, “He’s just messin with ya, princess. He didn’t give that colt any kinda ass-gas… gas-ass… whatever kinda thing,” she finishes, waving her hoof airily. “Mind ya, the colt did suggest it, but Solar refused ‘cause he figured somepony, somewhere would demand he demonstrate how it works.” She chuckles and adds, “Reckon that would be a heckuva sight on one of them firin lanes at the castle.”

Cure snickers quietly, shaking in laughter. A large white wing comes down on his back, smushing him into the cushioned surface for a moment. More than a few heads in the crowd turn to regard the royals, many of them smiling fondly at the relatively tiny brown limbs flailing about trying to escape the feathery blanket. Others meanwhile simply watch on with envy, wishing for nothing more than to trade places with the fortunate foal.

After a moment of smothering the brat, she finally releases him from his supposed prison. She lifts her wing, immediately noting how heavy it seems. The colt, to her dismay yet begrudging amusement, dangles from the underside of her wing, his own spread and tightly fastened to her much larger appendage. Sighing in exasperation, she gives the wing a couple hard flaps, struggling to maintain her stoicism when his legs, heck, and head bounce limply underneath him.

“What. Are. You. Doing?!” she quietly growls.

“Just hanging around,” he flatly responds. He can’t help but laugh at the deadpan she shoots back. “C’mon, really? How could I possibly give you any other answer?”

The princess rolls her eyes and ignites her horn, teleporting him only a meter from the bottom of her wing to between her forelegs, then squeezes him in a hug against her chest. Cure silently wishes she would take off her regalia, but has gotten used to putting up with it pressing into his rump when she snuggles on him like this. Even with the warmed metal being somewhat uncomfortable, the colt is perfectly content getting himself some princess snuggles. “At least try to behave yourself. Please?”

“You started it,” he snarks, draping his wings over the outside of her forelegs as he settles down. Legs folded under himself, he rests his chin on her fetlocks and focuses back on the matches as the organizers summon the next batch of contestants over. Cure perks up when he sees Ricochet clap her hooves before taking off. She had won her last three matches by turning the entire field into an impromptu air hockey table, bouncing shots off multiple walls to hit her target from odd angles.

Her opponent is a griffon; one of the very few participating in the competition. It’s a shame to see the crowd’s reaction to it being his turn. Even if there’s no blood thanks to the illusions, his fearsome, relatively brutal method of attack seems to strike fear in their pathetic prey minds. It doesn’t escape the colt’s notice that nopony flinches when a sword or dagger hit lands, but a lunging predator causes the masses a great deal of unease.

The dark gray tom smiles broadly when called out, then spreads his wings and shoots up in an arc to land just a few meters away from the engineering team, beating Ricochet there by a few seconds. Despite the lukewarm reaction from the crowd, he stands proudly in his gleaming gold armor with his wings held high and at the ready, offering a respectful incline of his head to his opponent.

Rico returns it with an acknowledging nod before turning to the weapon racks. She floats a set of six darts over and affixes them to the armor on either side of her barrel. The tom takes a moment while the current match wraps up to look over the selection, finally settling on a small buckler and his own claws. He straps the shield on his left foreleg, fixing it in place just below his knee.

“I was under the impression that darts had to be bound to the unicorn for them to use them properly.”

Celestia tilts her head left and right in a ‘kind of’ motion. “It does help to strengthen one’s grip, but the primary purpose is to prevent an opposing unicorn from simply using their own levitation to take control of the weapons. It is not a concern here due to the illusory nature of the opposition.”

“Ah. Gotcha. Maybe someday you can show me your fancy weapon collection. I’m sure you’ve collected some neat stuff over the years.”

“I have not intended to collect them, per se, but I suppose I do have a rather significant count stored away in my many vaults. I have not commissioned a weapon for myself in over a millennium, and while I have been gifted a few unique items over the years, I much prefer unique pieces art or literature. Or even delicious apple-like treats,” she adds, giving him a light squeeze.

“Or fancy clothes,” he teasingly chirps.

A snort blasts out her snout before she can hold it back. “I have been gifted more clothes than any ten families likely own. While most are of a more practical nature, the… outfit from Ambassador Ahmad’s wives is certainly not the most eye-catching I have received.”

The two pause their conversation as Rico and the griffon square off in their arenas. Both explode into action at the signal to begin; her launching to her right to gain distance and him blasting forward with a mighty flap of his wings. He closes the distance far faster than she could possibly hope to evade him, even while dodging the beams she sends both in his direction and forward against the wall to bounce back.

The way he sinks his claws in the ground and nearly throws himself to one side or the other makes it almost impossible for Rico to land a hit. Knowing he is herding her into the corner, she whips around and pulls two darts off of her side. She launches one at either of his sides and fires a beam right down the middle in an attempt to box him in. He dives to his right and slaps the dart out of the air with his shield, then ducks down under a third dart launched from her left.

Close enough to pounce, he gives his wings a single flap, propelling him at Rico in a lightning rush. She rears up and meets his right claws with an armored boot, then takes a swing at his face with her right. He leans to the side, dodging the blow and lashes out, attempting to bite at her right pastern. Though her shin guard prevents any real damage, he wrenches his neck up, locking down both her forelegs and pulling them away from her barrel.

His wings shoot out and he gives a powerful flap, pulling her further off balance and throwing her to the ground. She lands hard on her barrel and immediately rolls to her left, igniting her horn and lashing out in a sustained blast. The tom has no chance to dodge, but gets his shield up in time to deflect the beam, leaving furrows in the ground where his hind claws dig up the earth as he’s pushed back.

Rico keeps the beam up long enough to get her hooves back under her, scurrying away as quickly as she can. He pounces again when the beam finally cuts off. Sensing his approach from behind, she kicks back in a powerful buck. Wary of tackling a pony from directly behind, he had aimed slightly to her right. Though he avoids catching a hoof to the face, her right leg still clips his left wing, lighting those sensors up in red and disabling the limb.

Normally the pain of that injury would buy her some space, but with the safety mechanism in place he isn’t actually hurt, only artificially limited in motion. She doesn’t get more than a couple meters away before he catches up, tackling her and sending them tumbling in a pile of limbs. Once on the ground the two roll all around for a moment striking and kicking at each other as hard as the limited space allows. One of his hind claws finally catches a gap in her armor, peeling a plate open enough that the next kick lands true and ends the match in an eviscerating hit, dispeling both illusions in a cloud of sparkling motes.

“Ah fudge,” Cure halfheartedly pouts. “I mean, third… fourth place? Not bad, all things considered, but I was still rootin for her, ya know?”

“Third and fourth are awarded the same points for her team, so she placed third, effectively,” Celestia explains. “Still, to place at all in such a large event is a momentous honor that any squad would be exceptionally proud of.”

“Plus she went hoof ta claw with a griffon and did alright. That ain’t somethin most unicorns are willin ta even try.”

“With good reason, obviously,” he argues, motioning to the field with his muzzle. “Honestly if I were Bulwark, I would’ve had Static go instead of Rico. Not ‘cause she didn’t do great or anything, but pegasi and earth ponies benefit a lot more from the exercises I had ‘em doing than a unicorn would.”

Amethyst shrugs and points out, “Maybe she beat him in their spars or somethin. Reckon she earned the chance somehow. ‘Sides, like ya said, ain’t nothin wrong with third place, especially with Rush winning earlier. Golden Hills is sittin pretty right outta the gate.”

“True enough,” Cure agrees with a nod, “and that doesn’t even factor this afternoon’s events. By the end of the day I’m sure they’ll be in first place, and if the rest of the events are mostly physical then I doubt anypony else will even come close.”

That evening

Celestia had no more than settled down on her cushion when the dining room door slowly cracked open. Cure and Amethyst strolled through a moment later, both looking slightly worn from lying outside in the warm sun all day without taking a nap. She reaches down to wrap her left wing around him when he rears up to hug her side and offers a greeting to his mother who all but collapses on a cushion to her right.

“So,” she begins, waiting for both to settle in their seats, “how did your team fare in the afternoon events? Did they do as well as you predicted?”

Amethyst’s derisive scoff all but answers the question, but that doesn’t stop Cure from nodding and beginning a recount of the later events. “Yeah,” he mirthlessly chuckles, “you could say that. Haze did not hold back one iota during his event -”

“None of ‘em did,” his mom interrupts.

Both pause as tall glasses of ice water are set before them, shooting grateful nods to her staff. Cure only takes a small sip while Amethyst drains the entire thing in one go.

“Right. I’m pretty sure he stood out the most though. A random medic absolutely smoking a bunch of combat mages in casting speed seems a bit more unusual than three tall, but normal-sized earth ponies beating out Vanhoofer’s finest, even if it was very close.”

“I reckon so,” his mom easily agrees. “At least with them you can see they’re built, but Haze? I don’t think anypony saw that comin.”

“I am afraid I do not understand,” Celestia interrupts. “Aside from Sergeant Haze’s peak condition, what could have given him an advantage during the casting event?”

“Colt gave ‘em a super horn,” Amethyst says with a snort.

“A… super horn?” she confusedly asks. “I did not notice anything unusual about it, not that I was paying any special attention.”

“It’s all in the nerves and muscles,” the colt summarizes. “Think about it like this; if everything here,” he points a hoof down at the ground, “is how I would expect, mammals have been around for a couple hundred millions of years. Ponies probably showed up in the last few dozen million, though, and I couldn’t guess when the first horns started popping up. Let’s just say ten million for argument’s sake, alright?”

“I honestly have no idea how accurate that may be,” Celestia confesses. “Virtually all of the information from more than a few thousand years ago was lost during the great migration, and the lands of present day Equestria were never visited by ponykind prior. As far as we know, I suppose.”

“Interesting,” he idly comments, bobbing his head in understanding. “Either way, if unicorns as we know them have existed for even twenty million years and, again, ancient history isn’t totally different than what I recall, then bugs have been around something like fifteen to twenty times as long. Also, their generations only last a month or so, so for every generation of ponies they have something like a hundred generations for some kind of quirk or genetic mutation to show up, right?”

“Approximately,” she agrees with a nod.

“So you have a hundred times more opportunities for improvement in the same time and you have, at a minimum, twenty times as much time itself then at least two thousand times as many opportunities for a better bug to come into existence than a better pony.

“Granted things like magic and genetic stability are potential factors, but bottom line? Improved traits spread amongst bugs like lightning compared to how long it takes ponies to adapt. So the ‘super horn,’ if you want to call it that,” he huffs, rolling his eyes at his mom, “uses the very best of the best that I’ve encountered to quickly and smoothly hit the proper vibrations necessary for runic casting almost without the unicorn having to consciously do anything but maintain the proper flow of magic and empower the spell itself.”

Celestia’s eyes slowly drift up to the colt’s own horn as she takes in this information. “So your proficiency with casting is due in part to the superior musculature and nervous system upgrades you have given yourself.”

“And my eidetic cheating memory, yes.”

Conversation halts when the staff appear again, refilling Amethyst’s glass and leaving a pitcher behind and delivering three large salads to the group.

“I had not noticed you being that much quicker,” she confesses upon everypony’s departure. “In fact, I was able to easily counter your teleportation just last week.” His incredulous expression gives her all the explanation she needs. “You intentionally go slower than you can so as to be underestimated.”

The colt shrugs his wings and nods again. “That and so it doesn’t draw too much attention.” Huffing in annoyance, he adds, “Unlike some ponies, I have some freakin sense.”

“Just how much of a difference does it make?” she inquires.

The colt’s horn seemingly vibrates in a single powerful pulse, Teleporting him from his cushion to the far end of the table in a small flash of light. Another nearly instantaneous casting brings him back not even a half second later, leaving the princess staring in shock at the display. “That… was very quick,” she flatly observes. “Is that what Sergeant Haze demonstrated this afternoon?”

“Not quite,” he answers, shaking his head. “I only gave him that upgrade a little over two weeks ago. He’s still learning to adjust the flow of his magic to the improved speed. He was maybe twice as fast as anypony else, but between him, Song, Bulwark, Rush, and Static, I wouldn’t be surprised if Colonel Mayday hasn’t launched some kind of investigation to figure out if they’re juicing or something.”

Celestia blinks a few times and tilts her head at the unfamiliar term. “Juicing?”

“On some kind of performance enhancing drug. Between alchemy and just good ol’ fashioned chemistry I bet something exists that could explain their sudden improvement.”

“There are, indeed, but as Major Faheem pointed out, those are typically short lived with significant downsides. If he does then I assume magical scans and blood tests would show no abnormalities, correct?”

“Yep. They’ll come across as perfectly healthy, that’s all. I haven’t even worked with them in months, so if they had any tests done earlier in the year then the results should be about the same.”

“Then there is no need for concern aside from the extra attention their performance will draw.”

“Which can be explained by the training they received by that dashing young colt that is currently at home in Golden Hills and definitely not present in Canterlot at the moment,” he insists with a firm nod.

Celestia stares at him incredulously for a moment before gently coughing into her fetlock. “Yes. Dashing. Other words certainly come to mind, but we will go with that for now.” Despite the clear derision in her voice, Cure smiles broadly and wiggles happily in his seat. “I am to presume that Sergeant Song and Corporal Arc performed well in the aerial races as well?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a blowout like the others,” he replies.

“They didn’t take first,” Amethyst elaborates. “Third and fifth went ta Song and Static. A couple a’ pegasi with speed talents took first ‘n second, and some hippogriff stallion took fourth. That same griffon what came in second durin the fights was hot on Static’s tail, too.”

Celestia hums in thought for a moment. “An exceptional performance for one so young. Perhaps I should look into exploring what options he has been presented with.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Cure easily agrees. “I can’t imagine there’s a lot of griffons higher up in the guard’s command structure. Every single colonel, general, and so forth I met with was a pony, after all.”

Celestia sighs but shakes her head no. “Unfortunately, there is always the question of where another race’s loyalties may lie. I try not to directly involve myself in the way the guard is organized, but I do occasionally remind everypony that simply because somecreature is not a pony does not mean they have any special love for their race’s nation of origin.”

“Well I hate to sound like a bigot, but that might be for the best with the zebras, at least. Maybe in a few years if none of them try anything else I’ll be more trusting, but for now…” he drifts off shaking his head.

“Understandable,” the princess concedes. “Speaking of which, how is your latest business venture faring?”

“Sweet Harmony!” the colt cries in exasperation, laying heavily against the table. “You would not believe how much she’s getting flirted with! Ponies may not be one hundred percent comfortable with zebras, but they damn sure don’t seem to have any problem making passes at one! Especially the friggin earth ponies!”

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah, totally! I don’t even get it! As best I can tell it takes approximately zero effort for a dude that’s in the mood to get some action right now, but something like eighty percent of stallions that approach her are tryin to be all smooth and sh… stuff. It’s freaking annoying!” He looks across the table at his mom and asks, “Do you get hit on a lot when you’re out without dad around?”

The mare wobbles a hoof in the air and begrudgingly nods to the affirmative. “Not a lot a lot, but… yeah. Every since ya whipped Lemon ‘n me inta shape we’ve noticed a few extra heads turnin when we walk by.” She buffs a hoof on her chest and brags, “Yer sire’s lucky he locked us down when he did.”

“Huh. I guess I’m not usually out with the two of you when dad’s not around too.” He tilts his head to the side in thought. “I don’t think I’ve seen many stallions flirting with Lemon at the shop, but I feel like somewhere around ninety-five percent of her customers are foals and mares, so… yeah.”

“And yer focusin on yer own customers when yer there.”

“Yeah, but I can hear through the floor easily. When I’m not in a Sound Bubble, at least. Either way,” he continues, turning back to the princess, “so aside from the damn near constant flirting everything is going really well. I had a reporter stop by this morning from the Forest Heights Herald and she asked a few questions. I gave her a demonstration of what I can do, so I expect a story to show up in the paper tomorrow. The only question I have is should Madame Adiah eventually run out of ‘supplies’ or should I just keep hoofing out colts left and right like they’re going out of style.”

“The latter,” Celestia instantly replies. “Even if every single foal born next July is a colt instead of a filly it would still not come close to evening out the gender ratio. Approximately how many couples have you seen thus far?”

“Fifty seven and there’s a dozen that have taken numbers saying they’re coming back once I get my line down. It kinda took off after the day’s events were over. Word has spread by now for sure.” He turns to his mom and nearly bounces in his seat, “I’ve also made almost thirty thousand bits on upgrades to both stallions and mares! I’m thinkin Madame Adiah is gonna start renting a weekly stall in Fillydelphia if this keeps up.”

Amethyst whistles in appreciation. “Not bad, colt. Hope yer not chargin mares too much, though. Them upgrades’ll do wonders fer foalbirth.”

Cure dismisses the concern with an airy wave of his hoof. “I’m only charging them a hundred and fifty bits. Dudes are paying ten times that much and they’re friggin thrilled to do so. Except one guy I saw earlier; poor bastard had a legitimate micropenis.”

Celestia’s fork halts in midair as she stares at the short carrot stick impaled on its prongs. A barked laugh escapes Amethyst as she takes in the scene and the colt soon follows suit, covering his mouth with his pastern as he does his best not to shoot spinach all over the table.

“Sorry, boss,” he finally manages. “But seriously, I felt so bad for the dude that I didn’t charge him a single bit. I’ve had my fair share of criers when patchin folks up, but this one utterly lost his stuff after I performed my ‘ritual’ on him. I can’t say I blame him, either. It would be one thing if ponies wore pants, but in a society where everything’s just kinda, ya know,” he rolls the hoof he’s holding his fork with, “out there it’s gotta be like a billion times worse.

“Thankfully unicorns have a little extra fluff on him, so there was no shortage of mass to rearrange, but still… It took almost fifteen minutes of consoling him before I was able to get him out of the shop. Same with the chick that was infertile due to an ovarian torsion when she was younger. I flat out asked why she hadn’t seen the new prince yet and she said she felt greedy asking to take up some of his highness’s time.

“What do you think?” he begins, turning to face the princess. “Do you think ponies would buy it if I set up some kind of independent one-room shed or something that ponies could walk in and get whatever they need fixed? They wouldn’t feel like they’re imposing on my time that way. I was thinkin I could make some big show out of coming by and ‘recharging’ it every day to explain why I can’t distribute them all over the country.”

“I… suspect most ponies would accept the explanation,” Celestia slowly begins. “However, you must also consider what impact such a thing would have on the ponies working at Baltimare Hospital. Also, what about when you are sleeping or too far away for your rings to reach?”

“Hrm. Maybe at some point in the future, then.”

“Perhaps. Even in the future you must take care not to make the health professionals in your hometown completely redundant. There will inevitably be times when you are not available such as when attending school here. If staff depart for other areas where they feel as if they will be more useful, it would strain the Baltimare Regional Health Authority to import ponies capable of providing adequate care.”

The colt exaggerates a pouty face but doesn’t disagree. “Well… it’s something maybe I can explore at some point. Maybe. Until I have full-blown healing pods working or that anti-aging thing passes muster, at least.”

“Which will not happen for quite some time, unfortunately. I believe Director Storm and her team are still exploring how they can even begin to see if it works as intended. It may be that pony trials are the only option once the obvious potential side effects are dismissed, but I do not anticipate them being prepared to make such a decision anytime in the near future.”

“Understandable. Frankly, without my talent to run simulations I’m not sure how I would even test it.”

“I am confident they will figure it out eventually. Or, at the very least, they may request your assistance testing it when you are in the city on a more long term basis.” The princess gives a noncommittal shrug, saying, “We shall only have to wait and see what they can come up with.”

Author's Note

So the Golden Hills gang is kicking some serious ass so far. That's not surprising to anyone; they got essentially a decade or so worth of physical training in a six month span when they were working with Cure, giving most of them a ludicrously unfair advantage over other teams. They've also gotten bits and pieces of knowledge other ponies wouldn't have been exposed to thanks to him.

Of course, being at peak physical condition is not the only factor to winning some challenges. There will, inevitably, be ponies like Rainbow Dash that, even if another pony is an exceptionally fast flyer, they will simply not be capable of beating someone that is not only also in great shape, but also has a talent specifically aimed at going fast.

Madame Adiah is also doing very well for herself. That's not surprising given what she's offering. I'm not sure that I'll keep her around as a permanent personality, but at the very least it is an interesting way for Cure to provide a line of services that almost no one would be willing to approach a foal for.

Celestia is more or less perfectly fine with the idea, which may strike a few folks as odd. Keep in mind, though - Cure is the Alicorn of Life, which is a literal sacred duty bestowed upon him by a higher power. At least, in her eyes it is. Unless he's doing something "blasphemous" with the ability, she will support and encourage him to use his talent to help ponies as best she can.

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting. Also, thanks for the patience and understanding lately. I know I've not been posting as many or as long of chapters as I had been, but it's been a pretty busy time at work for me these last few months. I've had several large projects get dumped on me that I didn't anticipate and another is just on the horizon for when I finish what I'm working on now. It's great for making the day go fast, but I'm also so mentally exhausted after my shift that I just can't focus enough to even speak coherently, let alone write worth a damn.

As always, real life must come first, so the story has suffered as a result even if that is a bummer. I am unsure if I will have a chapter ready for next week, so if I do then count it as a lucky win for both you and me. Either way I'll pop in and either give you all an update or post the chapter itself.

Enjoy!