Wednesday, September 9th, 909 AB (later that evening)
Just after sunset

The constant flow of customers visiting Madame Adiah meant that Cure, for a second day in a row, could not spare a moment to disconnect from his portal network to join Celestia for the evening’s ritual. While that would normally be a source of some disappointment for the young alicorn, he considered it lucky happenstance when, around the same time, he made note of a couple ponies who seemed to be canvassing the area around his zebra body’s wagon.

Nothing in particular stood out about the pair of unicorns at first glance, but Cure mentally changed their labels from “Curious, but too shy to approach” to “Might be up to something” when he noticed them pass by a second time. While a fertility clinic draws no shortage of stares, most of them were focused on the wares, the signage, or the apparently zebra shaman herself. These two, on the other forehoof, were paying much more attention to her wagon and the layout of the surrounding area.

As nearly anypony else would, they paid no mind to the blackbird that suddenly began flitting from tree to tree while following their every move. The stallion and mare paused a little ways up the path and stepped out of the way of the steadily lessening press of ponies still meandering about. He watched as the mare broke away to head east, then left the path venturing south walking between the rows of tents and other stalls. She continued until passing Adiah’s wagon, then turned away again to the east to return to the path, looping around to the north and west again to rejoin her companion.

“Anything?” he leans down to whisper in her ear.

“No,” she replies with a shake of her head. “Either the walls are too thick or, more likely, enchanted. I couldn’t get anything from the inside at all.”

He grunts in understanding, standing by and watching from almost out of sight for a moment. “I suppose we’ll have to pay to get a better look.”

The mare snickers quietly and reaches over, patting him consolingly on his hip. “Maybe you should get the ‘deluxe upgrade.' I’ve heard it’s quite popular.”

The stallion slaps her hoof away with a huff. “Please,” he scoffs, “I make earth ponies jealous.”

“Uh huh,” she mumbles in faux agreement. “Either way we’ll get it all back later. Might as well get something useful.”

“Maybe you should get that gaping chasm of yours tightened up some, then,” he snarks back at her. “Celestia knows you could use the help finding a stallion.”

“Fuck you,” she quietly spits back. She only spends a moment deciding how to proceed before finally giving in.

With an almost resigned look the pair make their way back to her wagon and look around at her wares, moving to within range of her hearing. With the zebra herself inside her wagon helping customers, they are momentarily at a loss trying to figure out what they’re supposed to do. A helpful pegasus mare soon notices their confusion and, with an outstretched wing, points to a sign hanging by the zebra’s front door.

How to receive assistance if Madame Adiah is occupied:

For ritual services, please see the sign-up booklet on the table.

Find your desired time/date and tear out the page, then write your name and (optionally) indicate a requested service on one half. Put that half in the drop box by the door and keep the other as a reminder for your appointment.

Note that all customers must be adults or accompanied by a parent with proper documentation required.

To make a purchase of any products on display, simply insert the correct payment in the slot underneath the item you desire. Your purchase will automatically unstick from the shelf upon payment.

Change will dispense in the tray to your right.

Thank you!

The stallion stares at the sign for a long moment, his lips sounding out each of the last few sentences one word a time. Finally his eyes drifted over to the shelves and he locked eyes on an inexpensive item; a single capsule wrapped in cellophane with a cardboard backing. “Stallion flavor changer?” he woodenly reads aloud. “For the ladies who appreciate something sweet, dissolve this on your tongue before enjoying his treat.”

A barked laugh escapes him and he turns back to the mare. “You in the mood for ‘something sweet’ tonight? She has vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, and butterscotch here.”

The look of confusion fades as she steps forward to read the description, soon replaced with utter disgust. “You wish.” She looks over the collection for use on females curiously for a few seconds. “I wonder how these work.”

“Must do something to your tongue,” he offers with a shrug. “I’m more curious about how the whole setup knows you’ve paid the right amount. Also, what’s keeping somepony from just… you know,” he wonders, lighting his horn. He tries lifting a packet off the shelf and finds it firmly adhered in place. “Weird. I don’t feel any enchantment holding it in place. You could probably Teleport the capsule out, but for three bits, why risk it?”

Curiosity well piqued, the stallion pulls a five bit coin out and drops it into the slot. The previously fixed in place packet easily lifts up and two smaller coins clink down in the tray to the side. He places his purchase and the change in his bag with a thoughtful “Huh.”

“That’s nice and all,” his partner interrupts, “but we’re here for a reason.”

“Sure, sure,” he agrees, turning to the book on a small fold-out table by the door. “When’s the next open appointment?”

The mare hums as she opens the book, finding quite a few pages already torn out. “Tomorrow afternoon at three? It looks like the rest of the evening is pretty well booked.”

“That’ll work,” he agrees. “And I don’t need to tell you not to put your real name, do I?”

The mare pauses her writing, hastily scribbling over what she had already put. “No,” she unconvincingly lies. “Who would be that dumb?”

Thursday, September 11th, 909 AB (the next morning)
Breakfast

Cure is surprised to find two ponies waiting for him and his mother upon their arrival at the breakfast table. Seated on Celestia’s right, Lt. Spear and Cpt. Shield rise as the pair enter and begin heading to their seats.

“Well paint me green and call me a pickle! If it ain’t two of mah most fave-oh-raight Canterlot officers! And just when I thought maybe you were tryin to avoid me! To what do we owe the honor of the esteemed Captain Stalwart Shield’s presence on this magnificent Thursday morning?”

She doesn’t actually sigh out loud, but from the way her posture sags it is completely unnecessary anyhow. “Just some minor security issues,” she replies, facing forward instead of at him. “Nothing his highness needs to concern himself with.”

“Oh come on now,” he gently chides, blatantly rolling his eyes, “there’s no need for all that formality, captain.” He hops up on his cushion with Amethyst joining on his left, insisting, “It’s just me! The same ‘lil ‘ol Cure Wave you grew to love before all’a this,” he says, motioning up to his crown. “Now go on and make yerselves comfy. No need standin all formal-like on my account.”

They both retake their seats while the colt’s mischievous smile never leaves his face as he leans heavily on the table. Servants rush out only a second later setting a whole spread of breakfast foods out for their selection.

“So,” he begins in an overly chipper tone, “you know security is very important to me. Especially if it might concern my dear mother, over here.” Cure leans to his left and briefly wraps a wing over her back, squeezing her in a tight hug before letting go. “Why, I don’t think I could live with myself if I allowed my vigilance to waver and let such a delicate flower come to harm.”

“Delicate flower,” the mare in question snorts in a very unladylike way. “That’s me alright.”

“Really… Cure,” he smiles even wider and nods to show his approval, “it has nothing to do with,” she pauses turns to his mom, raising her brow in question.

“Amy’s fine,” Amethyst insists.

Shield nods in acceptance. “Amy, then. We received a report about some goings-on at the competition.” He somehow perks up even more and both ears swivel to focus fully on her. Too late she rushes to assure, “Not the competition itself! It concerns one of the vendors, that’s all.”

“Oh?” His tail swishes eagerly behind him. “What vendor might that be, hmmmm?”

The mare blows out a long suffering sigh and turns to look at the princess.

Cure does the same, brows hiked nearly into his mane. The look alone more than adequately conveys his annoyance at not having his question answered.

“It is alright, captain. There is no need to exclude Cure from such briefings. You are free to share the details with him as well.”

She blinks a couple of times in surprise. “Yes, ma’am,” she reluctantly agrees. She heaves another deep sigh and explains, “We received a report from Staff Sergeant Redtail in Forest Heights. One of the vendors is making… well…”

“A lot of bits,” Lt. Spear supplies when she pauses.

“A wagon full,” the captain agrees. “Not only that, but the services she’s selling have attracted a lot of attention.”

“What kinda services?” Amethyst interrupts.

“Nothing important,” Shield quickly responds.

“Seems important to me,” Cure argues. He playfully nudges his mom with his shoulder and suggests, “If she’s raking it in then maybe I’m in the wrong line of work.”

“It’s a clinic, of a sort,” the unicorn attempts to deflect.

“And that’s making her loads of dough?” he asks.

“Judging by her prices and the number of customers, yes. It is.”

“Why pay, though? You can go to the hospital for free. Or get an appointment with yours truly if it’s something really bad.”

“It’s not that kind of clinic,” the pegasus says.

“What kinda clinic is it, then?” Amethyst inquires in a tone nearly bursting with curiosity.

When both mares hesitate to answer, Celestia does so herself between gargantuan bites. “It is a fertility clinic. A zebra shaman is allegedly helping ponies have twins and promising to guarantee them colts instead of fillies. For a fee, of course.”

“Okay, yeah,” he nods in understanding, “I can see that. If I didn’t consider that a societal issue then I’m sure I could have made a fortune off of those colt trees. I wonder if somepony got wind that those were in testing and they’re now rushing to sell out of their stock.”

“If she’s trying to use up everything she has saved then that would explain how she’s able to see so many customers,” Spear agrees, bobbing her head. “It also implies there may be a leak somewhere in the medical labs.”

“No need to concern yourself there,” Celestia intervenes. “Director Storm already expressed such a concern, but I have received intelligence that gives me a clearer picture on the situation. The mare’s appearance at the event is not the result of any such leak.”

“That’s a relief,” Spear accepts, blowing out a held breath. “Thank you, your majesty.”

Resuming his line of questioning, Cure looks to the captain and asks, “Let me guess; she’s charging like a grand a pop or something? Depending on her supplies and how many ponies she can see a day that could definitely make her a mint.”

“No. As a matter of fact, her prices for that service are pretty low. Only twenty to thirty per pony.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” he begins. “You implied her prices were high.” Her face twists in an ugly frown at her contradiction being pointed out. “If she has a lot of customers then I could see her pulling in a decent haul, but nothin I would call a ‘wagon full.’”

“I reckon she’s makin the rest of them bits some other way, colt,” his mom suggests. “Probably sellin merchandise or other services, I bet.”

“Exactly!” Shield confirms, nodding eagerly in agreement.

“Well… like I said, I already gave the medicine to have a colt for free, even if it’s not ready for distribution yet. I could do the twins thing, too, but probably not with a plant,” he ponders aloud. “Maybe I can do the other things that she’s making a lot of money off of at the business I own. Tell me, captain,” he authoritatively commands, “if she’s not asking for much for those services, then exactly what is she making her fortune off of? I am assuming that’s in the report you received, correct?”

Amethyst and Celestia both turn to look at the mare, their expressions the very definition of wonder. Her beige coat darkens at the attention and she looks for help from her lieutenant to her right. The pegasus staunchly refuses to meet her eyes, focused solely on her bowl of barley and oats.

“It is,” she meekly affirms. “She… is offering a few other services that she seems to be asking a premium for. I do not believe they are appropriate to discuss at breakfast or - and I mean this with the utmost respect, your highness - with somepony as young as yourself.”

“Whaaaat?” he petulantly whines. “But if they’re something I can do in my private business then I need to know what they are!”

Both mares redden even further. The unicorn shakes her head in dismissal, insisting, “I am confident your parents would not approve of you offering these particular procedures.”

“Well now ya got me right curious, myself, captain,” Amethyst interjects. She turns and climbs off her cushion and, with a quiet, “Pardon” slips around behind the princess to lean closer to the mare.

Shield relents with a sigh, but not before casting a Sound Bubble to prevent Cure from overhearing. The colt stares on slack-jawed in mock offense, folding his forelegs over his chest to pout. After sharing the secret procedure they each erupt in a round of titters, all while being glared at by the younger alicorn.

When his mom finally returns to her seat he looks at her in silent question. She declines filling him in with a shake of her head, earning an even more exaggerated pout from the colt. “Fine!” he whines, biting a slice of toast clean in half. “Don’t tell me how I could be making loads more money. At least tell me what the security concern is.”

“It’s exactly as I said, sir. She is staying in her wagon overnight in the vendor area of the event grounds with, presumably, tens of if not hundreds of thousands of bits and no private security. Now, granted there’s a lot more guards in town than normal, and you would assume nopony would be brave enough to try something when there are, but you have to keep in mind that those guards are there for the event. They’re not ‘working’ as they normally would be, understand?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve seen a few squads I’m assuming are from Canterlot helping with security, though.”

“Those are actually from Fort McMare, Cure,” Celestia gently corrects.

“Ah. That makes sense. I guess you normally use squads stationed at the forts to supplement local security?”

“We do. There are squads from Meadow filling in for the two teams from Baltimare as well. We cannot leave cities short-staffed for the competition, after all.”

“Gotchya. So, anyhow, this mare,” he begins, refocusing the conversation, “has anypony told her to deposit the money in the bank? If there’s nothing to steal then… well, I suppose they could try to foalnap her, but that would deter any simple thieves, right?”

“Apparently she is convinced she can take care of herself,” Spear explains. “She said something about not trusting Equestrian banks.”

Celestia shoots a look of annoyance at Cure that is missed by the pair.

“So then she’s not an Equestrian? Well, duh,” he says bonking himself playfully on the head. “You said she’s a zebra shaman, so she has to be Zebrican, then.”

“Presumably,” Shield says. “We belieive she’s from the same tribe that we’ve always bought healing tinctures from.”

Celestia pauses her eating and turns to the captain. “I am curious how you came to that conclusion.”

“Eh, not important,” Cure tries to deflect.

“Her name,” Shield answers. “The one she put on the vendor license. It’s Kahaba Matobo, your majesty.”

“You sure you don’t mean Kataba? Like… contract?” Cure meekly inquires. His mom’s snort of laughter doesn’t help the situation at all.

To his dismay, the captain reaches into her chestplate and unfolds a familiar looking form, looking over it before reading aloud. “Kahaba. Says so right here.”

“Ah, well, that looks like it was filled out by a clerk or something,” Cure insists. “Unless she was carrying a typewriter with her, somepony must have slipped up and hit H instead of T. So anyhow -”

“According to Mrs. Folded Page, the mare filled the form out with her magic while in Mrs. Page’s office,” Shield interrupts. “Apparently the name she’s operating under, Madame Adiah, is some kind of stage name or alias.” She pauses a moment and shrugs, “Or maybe Kahaba is. The Zebricans apparently don’t know anything about her, which is strange.”

“You… asked the zebras about her?” Cure asks, suddenly feeling a bit of heat coming from his right. He does his best not to look at the princess, keeping his eyes firmly on the unicorn across from him.

“No. After yesterday’s article in the Herald they reached out to me. I have a good rapport with Major Faheem. We keep an open line of communication in case something comes up like last week’s incident. They don’t know anything about her, but they expressed concerns that she may be a fraud. It was kind of strange; when I said her real name they seemed to recognize it.” She chuckles and shakes her head, adding, “They suggested that she may be an earth pony, given her unusual stature. Apparently she’s quite a bit taller and more muscular than a zebra, especially compared to most of their shamans.”

“Ah.” Cure spares a brief second to look at his still chuckling mom, shooting her a scowl and jabbing her sides with a fetlock.

“Regardless, some of the treatments she’s offering have been confirmed to be effective -”

“Very effective from what I’ve seen,” Spear quietly adds, then flushes even darker than normal when the three mares all look inquisitively at her.

Shield only pauses a moment before continuing, “- and, apparently, persistent, so we’re working under the assumption that she is legitimate. Perhaps she’s some kind of hermit or maybe the Matobo tribe simply failed to alert the embassy about her assignment. Given how poorly the Zebrican tribes communicate with each other it wouldn’t surprise me overmuch.”

“A somewhat unorthodox suggestion, if I may,” Celestia begins. “While I do not doubt the measures we already have in place are sufficient, it is only reasonable and prudent that she take extra precautions to deter anypony from getting ideas.”

She looks back to Shield and commands, “Ask that Sgt. Redtail explains our concerns to this Madame Adiah. We know some private security firms that would be willing to help her keep an eye out, many of whom have retired or former guards on their payroll. We can even make the arrangements for them to send a team later today. She need only cover the cost; a pittance compared to what she is supposedly earning. I believe that should mitigate the risk from the added attention without the guard being forced to overextend.” She pans back to the colt and leans slightly forward. “What are your thoughts, Cure?”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea, princess!” he immediately replies, fighting to keep his ears from pinning back. “In fact, I’ve already arranged for extra security for my Fillydelphia trip later this month.”

“I am glad to hear it. If you believe your trip warrants extra security, then I do not see why she should not have it as well. I am sure she will agree and understand.”

“No doubt!” he easily agrees. “I dare say she should be grateful for the suggestion, even!”

She hums in agreement while taking a sip of her tea. “Yes. I am sure she will be.”

“Welp,” Cure sighs, scooping the last bite of food into his mouth, “we’d better get going if we don’t want to be late, ma. You ready?”

“Sure thing, colt,” she says, knocking back the last of her coffee.

Amethyst slides off her cushion as Cure hops down from his raised bench. “I’ll see ya later, princess. Have a good one!”

“You as well, Cure. Have fun.”

“You bet. Oh, and by the way, captain,” he calls, pausing just before he heads out the door, “I can read lips. See ya!”

The flight to the event began in silence with Amethyst, as has been her typical move, laying atop the colt with her forelegs hugged to his sides underneath his wings. Of course, she only waited until the flight (and her stomach) leveled out to ask exactly what the big deal about the mare’s name was and why he tried to pretend not to have been responsible.

As amusing as his answer was, she couldn’t help but ask, “So you put ‘Matobo Whore’ as your name on an official document? How could you possibly think that would not get found eventually?”

“I’unno,” he shrugs his wings against her chest. “I kinda thought maybe the zebras would get wind of it somehow. Honestly, I half expected a group of them to show up sometime overnight to rob me or interrogate me or something.”

“Look, honey, I know the zebras are on yer shit list, but you gotta stop pokin them every chance ya get. They may not be able to do nothin to you yerself, but I ain’t tryin to have some zebra assassins comin in tha middle ‘a the night while yer off in Canterlot or wherever.”

“They wouldn’t freaking dare!” he hisses through clenched teeth.

“You don’t know that. Stupid ponies do stupid shit all’a tha time, colt. ‘Sides, yer all about tryin ta hide what all ya can do. How can ya expect ‘em to know not ta cross ya if yer not willin ta show off some of yer abilities, hmm?”

“It’s common freakin sense, ma! I am an alicorn,” he flatly insists. “Unless they have some magic MacGuffin like that stupid fucking staff then their only options is to pray they don’t piss me off enough for me to get off my ass and come over there to wreck their shit. What could they possibly do to stop somepony like Celestia if she decided to bake their leaders from a continent away?”

“And that ain’t somethin she’s told ‘em she can do, neither. Them knowin they’re survivin only on yer good graces ain’t gonna make ‘em compliant, colt. It’ll just make em desperate.” She nuzzles against the inside of his ear and asks, “What do desperate ponies do?”

Sighting, he rests his chin on her forelegs and nods in acceptance. “Whatever they can.”

“Exactly. They lash out. Cornered rat ‘n all that. They ain’t gonna learn not ta piss ya off ‘till they already done did exactly that, and I ain’t fixin ta learn how ya react when somepony’s pushed ya too far. And I know damn well ya don’t want anypony gettin hurt ‘cause’a yer ego. Yer gonna have a long time to hafta live with that guilt, Cure.”

Her words almost drain the energy out of the colt entirely, putting an end to any argument he could possibly muster. He once again nods against her leg, brushing his cheek and muzzle against her coat. “True. I’ll be good from now on, momma.”

“Good.”

“If they do something stupid, though…”

She gives him a good squeeze and finishes his sentence. “Then ya deal with the ones what done it, and make sure they all know not ta do it again.”

“As usual, earth pony’s get the short end of the stick,” Cure quietly grumbles.

Amethyst rolls her eyes and motions to the field with her right forehoof, asking, “Well what exactly do you expect them to do?”

“I dunno,” he grumbles under his breath, “but that course looks like something you’d have a trained dog run through, not squads competing to show they’re the best in the nation.”

Amethyst cocks a brow at the colt, staring like he’s grown a second head. It briefly occurs to her that, technically, he does have a second head; one that is currently agreeing to pay for the privilege of having hired security to keep an eye on her wagon throughout the day. “If you can train a dog ta run through that,” she lifts her chin and motions at the field, “then I’d like ta see it.”

Cure takes another moment to look over the obstacle course and consider her proposal. She’s right, of course, and his suggestion that a dog could manage it is somewhat ridiculous. Taking up nearly three quarters of the stadium grounds, there is a passing resemblance to what Ed had seen trained hounds run while bored on the weekend and idly flipping through channels, but then somepony decided to take it beyond the next level.

Starting beyond the northwest end of the bleachers, the contestants have to sprint to the east for approximately a half kilometer across the front of the stands while clearing a few relatively easy hurdles. A wooden ramp allows them to maintain speed as they turn which straightens then arcs into an almost completely vertical climb for six meters with a large platform at the top. If somepony fails to make it in a sprint then there’s a spiraling set of stairs on the south side that will certainly cost them a fair amount of time, and a layer of clouds ensures nopony will suffer an injury if they fall with a unicorn on standby to catch anypony careening directly back.

The platform allows them to turn back to the west where a rope is waiting, allowing them to grab on and swing back down to the ground, landing in a fairly wide moat of water. From there they have to swim for a few dozen meters, climb out, turn to their right facing north, and dive under a set of horizontal posts set low to the ground before shuffling forwards.

Another beam is raised up the ground, this one barely more than a hoof’s width and surrounded by mud. Another turn, now facing east as they had at the start, has them zig-zagging through a series of vertical posts, then sprint the last remaining bit and pull off a loop-the-loop.

It never even occurred to Cure that it would be possible for a pony on the ground to actually run a vertical loop. He recalls from Ed’s memories that he saw where a Hot Wheels advertisement made it look like there was one on a real highway which resulted in, of course, quite a few ponderings about what speed it would take to pull off. From what he recalls, the result was possible, but not for most cars. Earth ponies’ ability to grab the ground certainly changes that to the point where they can pull it off fairly easily. Still, he has to wonder exactly what set of circumstances in real life will result in a guard having to execute a loop-the-loop in the line of duty.

“Fair. I guess it is better than the unicorn’s boring course,” he says, motioning off further to the southwest.

In order to test the unicorn members’ horn dexterity, a set of blunted darts are provided to each guard who has to keep them in motion around themselves to deflect balls launched at them from all sides, all the while firing one off at targets as they pop up.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind giving that a try eventually. It would probably be pretty embarrassing right now, though.”

“Yeah, they’re just standin there, mostly,” she agrees. “The pegasus test ain’t nothin special, neither,” she says, glancing up overhead.

The colt can’t help but disagree. Though it is just a series of rings not unlike the long distance flight on the first day, the numbered cloud rings are small and in a very tight box, forcing whoever is flying it to make very sharp turns and, occasionally, tuck their wings in to avoid breaking the ring.

“That’s a lot harder than you think it is, ma. If I couldn’t cheat and stop myself with my grabby aura I’m not sure I could do that. At least, not in any kind of reasonable time. That said, it would be pretty neat to try that one, too. Watch,” he instructs as the first pegasus takes off from the ground. “I’m guessing the clock starts when she hits the first ring.”

Under the watchful eyes of the judges, the mare from Tall Tale shoots through the first ring. She cuts hard to her right and pulls her wings tight to her side, ducking her head to shoot through number two before flaring them open and up, pulling her into a climb to hit three. Back arched and wings straining to hold the roll, she does a half loop and falls down through number four, her right side brushing the inside of the ring.

“That’ll cost her, I bet,” he comments as she pulls out of the dive, gracefully turning her body to the left to pass through three rings in an arc. Her right wing angles up and left does the opposite, twisting her in a spiral to hit another three rings in a row, though a few of her left primaries snag the last one. “Still, though… she’s good.”

“She’s amazing,” Specialist Spark quietly murmurs, staring fixedly at the mare’s form from below.

Cure can’t help but smirk at the normally quiet pegasus that makes the third member of his Canterlot Royal Guard team. Sgt. Trail leans over and gives him a rap with his hoof on the specialist’s shoulder. “Eyes on your surroundings, Spark,” he quietly chastises.

While the colt is sympathetic to his guard’s plight, he can’t find it in himself to disagree. He would be kind of ticked if something happened while his guards were distracted, and unlike Celestia, they do not know how actively he keeps an eye on his surroundings, nor could they possibly know how difficult it would be to actually hurt either him or his mother.

The mare continues on her course during their conversation, twisting and turning, flipping every which direction in a dizzying display of aerial prowess that nearly makes Cure’s wing itch with desire to go give it a try. Unfortunately, as much fun as it would be to run out there on the field, this is a military operation and not a place for foals, even royal ones, to play around.

As the mare wraps up her attempt and comes back in for a landing, Cure’s attention is briefly drawn to the unicorn that is trying her best to avoid getting hit. He soon realizes that it’s the very same mare that was defeated by Rush during her first bout the other day. While she is doing a good job of launching her darts at any targets that pop up, it’s obvious that she doesn’t have a lot of experience using her darts to intercept incoming attacks. More than a few balls have managed to get through her guard, smacking into her sides and flanks while she is distracted.

“I’m suddenly wondering how they keep that event fair,” he wonders aloud. “I mean, it’s not impossible that the ponies launching those balls could throw them faster or more frequently, or just time it so they’re throwing when the contestant is looking away.”

“That’s just part of the test, sir,” Sgt. Trail points out. “Unless somepony has a special talent for this then it will be pretty unusual to have a private do much better than she is. They only offer that training at higher ranks. All things considered, she’s doing pretty well given her rank and experience, though it looks like she’s getting a bit more frustrated with every passing hit.”

The sergeant’s observation is dead on; though his experience with hornwork is still rudimentary at best, it doesn’t take a horn at all to see her movements are getting increasingly sloppy as her annoyance seems to build. The darts she throws at targets are going faster and, for the ones at the edge of her targeting aura, are not hitting directly. The ones closer to her body are moving more erratically and failing to intercept more and more shots thrown her way, and she seems to have completely forgotten that she can move out of the way as long as she stays inside the two meter circle at the center of the arena.

“So what you’re saying is you could do a lot better, sarge?” Cure curiously asks.

The unicorn glances back over his withers with a look of absolute confidence. “I can assure his highness that he would be most thoroughly impressed by my performance.”

Cure smiles and hums in consideration. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but hopefully we’ll never have to find out.”

It’s only a few minutes later when a very familiar earth pony takes his place at the starting line for their obstacle course. Staff Sergeant Bulwark makes his way to the line, his chest and sides bulging in rock hard muscle. His large, dark, powerful form gains the attention of nearly every mare in the stands as he takes off like a rocket down the straightaway to the curve.

Cure snickers quietly under his breath at the mares cooing and humming in appreciation. He rounds the curve going full speed with his body almost entirely horizontal, then shoots up the ramp in barely a split second, having to grab onto the top to not go flying into the air. Forelegs and teeth secured to the rope, he swoops down like a cannonball into the water, pushing off the bottom to break its surface.

With a running dive he clears nearly half of the horizontal beams before sliding the rest of the way without having to shuffle. The balance beam is almost his undoing as he starts to lose his balance towards the end, but with a powerful push of his hind legs he jumps the remaining few meters and lands, skidding to drift to a stop while facing the next part.

His performance on the zig-zag isn’t particularly remarkable, though he is able to get through it every bit as quickly as anypony else. A quick burst of speed kicks up a cloud of dirt as he shoots towards the end of the course so quickly that he’s nothing but a blur while going through the loop. He hits the finish line at full speed, all four hooves digging trails as he slides to a stop.

As the cloud of dirt clears it reveals the stallion, standing at ease having barely worked up a sweat. Dramatically pausing for only a moment, he basks in the cheers and applause from the crowd, dips his head in a shallow bow, and proudly trots off the field for the next contestant.

“Not bad, sarge,” Cure compliments. “Not bad at all.” A wild thought occurs to the colt; a way he can give it a go and get a good laugh at the same time. It only takes a moment to get ready. Shouts of alarm and surprise sound out from the crowd when a nearly pegasus-sized great dane bursts out from behind the bleachers and shoots past the earth pony awaiting her turn.

What’s even more amusing than the baffled event coordinators trying and failing to catch it is the that way it darts through the course. When the dog flies up the ramp and lands at the platform, the stallion responsible for securing the rope is caught so off guard that he doesn't move at all. Since nopony wants to smell a wet dog, it cheats a little and stays latched to the rope, letting go and doing a flip while soaring through the air to completely skip the waiting moat.

Being slightly shorter and more horizontal than a pony, it doesn’t have to slow in the least as it runs under the obstacles, nor does its balance falter a bit as it shoots across the balance beam. To the cheering claps of everypony in the stands, the mysterious canine zigs and zags right through the posts, seamlessly pulls off the loop, then launches itself in an impressive leap right over the waiting guards.

Laughter erupts from the crowd as the elusive dog slips through legs and expertly avoids telekinetic grips, running north towards the vendors and quickly disappearing from sight.

Laughing so hard she’s crying, Amethyst pounds on her cushion with a forehoof as she wipes her eyes with the other. “Yer nuts, colt!” she struggles not to shout. “I swear, wait till the princess hears about this!”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin about, ma,” he stalwartly insists. “After all, I’ve been sittin here all innocent-like the whole time. How could that possibly have been my fault?”

Author's Note

Alrighty, so... shorter chapter this week, but honestly... this might turn kind of into the norm if I'm able to get a chapter out every week at all. I wanted to be done with the whole Competition arc well before now, but it'll be at least another two weeks before I can wrap it up. Ah well, we'll get there, even if the pace is glacial.

As always, thanks of reading, rating, and especially commenting.

Enjoy, folks!