Thursday, September 10th, 909 AB (that same day)
A short while later

Though it certainly was not Cure’s intention, the spectacle of a stray dog running the course ended up being a net positive for the event. Where the number of spectators was initially quite low, the cheering and laughter soon drew in a number of curious ponies all hoping to see what the excitement was about.

Though not quite up to snuff when compared to gladiatorial combat, the day’s tests were still fairly entertaining; a sentiment seemingly shared by some of the other foals in attendance.

While they couldn’t build themselves an obstacle course like the earth ponies had to complete, nothing was stopping them from recreating the unicorn test; at least, in spirit if not in form. They didn’t have darts to protect themselves, but foals always seem to make do. Impromptu rules were agreed upon whereby shield panels, wings, or earth pony hooves were deemed to be adequate substitutes. A foal darted off to raid his sire’s tennis ball stash, and within a few minutes they had gotten started.

It went well enough for the first couple rounds, but a dark orange unicorn filly a little older than Cure decided she was taking too many hits. She launched a ball back at one of the foals doing the throwing and chaos quickly ensued. Being foals, none of them seemed to overly mind, and the whole thing quickly devolved into a huge, chaotic game of ball tag with balls flying all over the place.

Splitting his attention, Cure does his best to keep an eye on the now four events simultaneously going on both behind and in front of him. He is soon drawn out of his reverie by a soft chuckle from his mom. “Yer allowed ta go play if ya want. Ya know that, right?”

Muzzle scrunched, Cure considers the offer, watching on wistfully at the laughing, screaming foals as they dart behind trees for cover, form and abolish temporary teams, and overall seem to be having a wonderful time. “I’m not really sure I can, ma. All the ‘prince’ stuff aside, I don’t think I could, ya know,” he leans in closer, “split my focus like that. At least, not well enough to not look like an idiot.”

She grunts in understanding and leans over to give his ear a lick. “Yer doin too much, colt. Just bein here ‘n showin support fer the guard, yer already ‘on the clock.’ Tryin to make a few bits while yer at it… well,” she sighs, “wouldn’t be so bad if ya needed it, but now yer missin out on bein a foal.”

“Yeah, I know,” he dejectedly accepts. “I was… well, not quite bored, but, I guess antsy the other day and I figured it would be a good way to burn off some energy. I didn’t really expect it to get so far out of hoof.” He rolls his eyes at her incredulous look. “No, really! How would I have known the friggin newspapers would show up? There’s dozens of vendors at this thing!”

“Uh huh,” she grunts noncommittally, “and how many are offering anything like that?”

“Yeah, but it’s also at a friggin fair, more or less! I figured ninety percent of ponies would chalk it up as some kinda snake oil thing!”

Amethyst’s brow furrows and she tilts her head in incomprehension. “Do wut now?”

Cure groans under his breath, rubbing his temples with his forehooves. “A snake oil salespony,” he explains in exasperation. “It’s a scammer, basically. They used to go from town to town claiming to sell some kind of miraculous tonic or curing agent, usually made from something ponies wouldn’t be familiar with, i.e. snake oil.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them were toxic. Either way, how would I know everypony would just accept that this unknown zebra with a product nopony’s ever seen before would be legit? I mean, the things I charge more for are instantly obvious, but it seems like half of Canterlot is coming down to have a procedure they won’t be able to verify worked for at least a few weeks.”

She gives a half shrug and points out, “Yeah, but They ain’t riskin much, neither. A few hours worth ‘a pay and an hour round trip on the off chance of having twins or a colt? Reckon everypony that didn’t come ‘ll be lookin fer her when this is all over. Especially them nobles desperate ta have a son.”

“Nah,” he denies with a lazy shrug of his wings. “By the time all these foals are born and they have proof she was real, the treatment I gave Tia should be approved. And they’ll be able to get that for free at their local clinic.”

“And somepony’ll get another few statues outta it.”

“Not me. Not ‘till I’m older, that is. Shock and dismay, the boss lady isn’t going to advertise that the foal prince is responsible for scrotal topical creams and vaginal suppositories. Besides, I don’t deserve any recognition for something like that anyhow. I didn’t come up with the idea myself; I just remembered it from an article. Shoulders of giants and all that, ya know?”

“Withers, colt,” she flatly corrects.

“Whatever,” he huffs. “This is why I usually avoid idioms. Harmony knows there’s some equine ones that wouldn’t be received so well.” He shakes his head in dismissal when she cocks a brow. “Later. Maybe. Probably after I’m done seeing a whole line of foals with bruises all over ‘em.”

“They’re just tennis balls,” the mare instantly dismisses. Cure acknowledges her point with a bob of his head. Even unicorn and pegasus hides are thick and tough enough that a tennis ball wouldn’t do more than sting for a moment. Then there’s the fact that ponies aren’t really shaped the best for throwing anyhow. Their speed and accuracy is very much lacking without a lot of training and practice. The biomechanical advantages bipeds have are not easily compensated for with only raw power, and foals his own age don’t typically have that.

“So,” she idly begins, pointedly glancing around, “is yer lil friend comin by?”

“You know that she is, along with some friends,” he fires back. “Dunno why you’re pretending you weren’t sitting right there smirkin the whole time.”

“Eh, I weren’t really listenin. Wanted ta give ya yer privacy and all that.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts, making no attempt to hide his disbelief. “After she dropped that bomb at the start I’m sure you just completely stopped paying attention.”

She innocently turns to look away. “I didn’t wanna stick my snout inta yer love life any more’n I already do, colt.”

Cure scoffs and shakes his head in dismissal. “No way. I’m not even entertaining that idea. I don’t need any more of that mess than I’ve already got. There is no way in Tartarus I’m tryin to add a new member, and Eve didn’t seem the slightest bit interested. Hopefully her friends don’t jump to some kind of wrong conclusion.”

“Aww,” she coos, leaning to nuzzle into his cheek. “Six is enough for the Alicorn of Life, huh?”

“You’re not funny,” he huffs, even while leaning into the affection. “That five girls are okay with sharing me is, frankly, terrifying. I’ll never be able to give any one of them the attention they deserve.”

“Eh, yer sire does fine by us.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong; I’m glad to hear that you all feel that way, and I’m definitely not trying to, ya know,” he rolls his hoof, “convince you otherwise, but once the male to female ratio starts leveling out I bet society’s expectations will change with it. You and countless other mares may eventually decide you each deserve your own stallion. That’s not even factoring in the whole unaging thing. I could see marriages becoming term-base affairs instead of the semi-terminal ones that they are now.”

“Like… some kinda rental agreement?” she jokingly asks.

“Not far off, but also not exactly how I’d describe it. I would say they would probably be much more fluid than they currently are, though. I know divorces do happen, but for the overwhelming percent of ponies marriage is for life. You figure you have fifty, sixty, maybe even more time together for a pair of healthy earth ponies that find each other in their teens, right?”

“I suppose…”

“And maker knows that at least some marriages only last as long as they do because one or both sees it as an obligation or, unfortunately, they feel trapped. ‘I can’t leave her; our foals will be devastated.’ Or ‘He has all the bank accounts in his name.’ Well, if you’re effectively twenty-five years old then you have all the time in the world to start over whenever you decide you’ve had enough.

“I… he used to jokingly suggest that marriages should be renewable term contracts. It usually got him hit when he said it, but something like that could potentially work depending on the details. It would either take comprehensive pre-nups or some really invasive administration to have any chance at making it fair, but it could be possible.”

“Seems ta take the love outta it, if ya ask me. ‘We’ll be a family fer twenty years, then see ya later’ ain’t all that romantic.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a cringe, “it’s a much more utilitarian approach, but the whole ‘till death do us part’ thing will eventually go by the wayside, I bet. It almost has to. It may take a couple generations to happen, but after a hundred or so years with another pony I bet a lot of folks will, if not simply need a break from their partners, have the urge to try something different.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll have like, a central kind of main herd and, every few decades, you’ll go to almost like a secondary family for a while before coming back. Let me ask you this,” he says, turning to face her fully, “do you really think that, if you live to be a thousand or two thousand or whatever, that it’ll always just be you, dad, dam, Lemon, and Title together?”

He holds his hoof up to forestall her immediate yes, adding, “Think of it from a purely pragmatic standpoint. Anything, relationships included, can stagnate after a while. A hundred years of being together is a really, really long time. Even if everything is perfect, you can’t deny there’s a chance that you’ll eventually get kinda… I dunno,” he admits, rolling his hoof again, “bored, for lack of a better term.”

The mare’s muzzle scrunches in distaste as she hesitantly admits, “I reckon it’s possible. Eventually.”

The young alicorn nods and turns back to the field of foals, watching as a group of fillies band together to target a single colt. Far from being malicious, if he’s reading their body language correctly, at least a few of the girls seem to be somewhat attracted to their hapless victim. The colt, as they often are at his age, seems completely oblivious to that fact.

As he continues observing with faint amusement, he continues, “It was an issue that I recall from a story where a pair of unaging ponies were talking about their relationship. Obviously that won’t always be the case, though. Sometimes two ponies may never want to leave each other. And… even without aging being a factor, you’ll naturally have the occasional death.”

The colt’s musings come to a sudden halt. His ears sag and tail instinctively wraps tightly around his right hip. Amethyst starts to reach over to comfort him, but pauses when a trio of fillies start climbing up the bleachers, his new little friend leading the way. A bright yellow pegasus and a light rose colored unicorn nervously follow along behind her.

Cure perks back up like nothing happened at all, hopping to his hooves to greet his new friend. “Mornin, Eve!” He pauses and cocks his head to the side, “Kinda contradictory, now that I think on it.”

“Ugh,” she good-naturedly groans, rolling her eyes. “My granddam always makes the same joke almost every time! Exactly how old are you anyway?”

“I’m just mature for my age,” he grumbles, exaggerating a pout before looking inquisitively at her friends. “Hi there! Prince Serpentus,” he greets with an extended hoof.

They look at it for a moment trying to decide to accept or duck into a bow. The unicorn hesitantly steps forward, gingerly tapping his hoof. “Rose Quartz, your highness. A pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s mine,” he insists, turning to the last member of the party.

“Shining Star,” the pegasus introduces, all but hopping past her friend to give his hoof a solid clop. “I think everypony knows who you are, your highness!”

“Fair enough,” he acknowledges, nodding in understanding. “I admit, I always wonder if I should introduce myself or assume everypony will already know who I am. Either I seem a little dim stating the obvious or I appear a little conceited expecting everypony to know who I am.” He looks over his withers at his mom’s unoccupied pillow. “Well, come on up and make yourselves comfortable. There’s plenty of room, even if somepony decided she needed the alicorn-sized pillow all to herself.”

“Hush, you. I’m bigger’n all four a ya combined,” she indignity declares. Cure’s eyes slowly drift down the sides of her barrel and he wordlessly nods in agreement. “Better watch it, colt. Them guards ain’t gonna save ya from a whoopin from me,” she warns, never looking away from the event.

Paling at the mare’s playful warning, he quickly averts his gaze. Horn lit, he lifts and rotates his mom’s unused pillow, turning it sideways for them to lay across and plops down closest to the mare. A wing wave in invitation prompts the three to fill in on his right. Eve lays the closest and Rose takes her side, then Star half lays across the pink filly's back. She no more than settles on top of her friend before opening her mouth to allow a tidal wave of questions to pour out.

“Is it true you flew all the way from Baltimare to Canterlot in only a few hours? Didn’t you get tired or take breaks along the way? I thought you only grew wings a couple months ago. Who taught you how to fly? Are they so much bigger than a pegasus’ ‘cause you were an earth pony or do alicorns just have bigger wings?”

Both Eve and Rose look up at the filly in a mixture of bewilderment and worry. If she notices at all she certainly doesn’t let it stop her. “Daddy showed me an article about a pegasus stallion that paid somepony to look like you. Have you ever met him? That seems kind of weird,” she considers, pawing at her chin with a hoof thoughtfully before shrugging, “but he was really happy about it, so I guess it’s not a big deal.”

By now Amethyst and the three guards have turned to look as well, curious if she’s going to ever stop for the young alicorn to answer.

“How do you get around without anypony seeing you, anyhow? Is there some kind of top secret underground train you take from the hospital to wherever you live?” Her eyes snap to his horn and trail up and down it in wonder. “What about magic? Did Princess Celestia teach you herself? Are you going to go to her school this year?”

OH!” she exclaims brightening even more than she already has. Her wings lift off of her back and she starts wiggling slightly despite Rose’s protests. “Which do you like more, flying or magic?! And why do you wear clothes everywhere?” she adds, looking down his side. Thrusting a hoof out at his barrel she continues, “And what’s that made of? I saw where you gave a couple to Lady Tiara and Lady Twilight, but nopony knows where you bought them!”

A red loop of aura suddenly clamps the filly’s muzzle shut, emanating from Eve’s lit horn. “Star! Sweet Celestia, what in the sun has gotten into you?!”

“What did you have for breakfast?” Rose cries, looking over her back at her friend.

A couple muffled grunts and a look of annoyance later, Eve frees her from the magical lasso. “Daddy said he would raise my allowance if I got a big scoop!” She looks down at the side of the bleachers where several cameraponies are snapping away. Her right forehoof and wing shoot into the air and she waves happily to a pegasus stallion, shouting, “Hi daddy! Nothing yet!”

The eyes of everypony in the royal box, along with the closest few rows, all snap to the stallion who, instead of looking chagrined, gleefully waves back to his daughter. “Keep at it, my little Star! I know you can do it!”

Cure gives Eve the flattest look he can muster. “Please tell me you didn’t know about this,” he all but begs.

“I knew her sire worked for a newspaper, but no. I had no clue! I promise!”

“I believe you,” he assures the filly, not just because of her words, but also from every sense he possesses indicating she’s telling the truth. “So,” he says, turning to the filly in question, “I might be willing to answer a question or two -”

“YAY!” she cheers, flapping to half lift off. She claps her hooves in joy and excitedly says, “Daddy said that for every question you answer he’ll raise my allowance by one bit!”

“Oh?” he inquires, his grin suddenly turning malicious. “What’s your allowance right now, if I may ask?”

“Ten bits every two weeks.”

“Hmm… and this one bit increase… are we talking every two weeks or is he going to suddenly change to one extra bit per month?”

The enthusiasm drains from the girl in an instant as she puts on a thoughtful look. “I… didn’t ask?” she responds in an inquisitive tone.

“Well, I’ll tell ya what,” Cure begins, lighting his horn. A piece of paper and fountain pen pop into existence, both of which he floats in front of all three for them to look over.

I, ____________, agree to raise the allowance of my daughter, Shining Star, by one bit every ___________ for each question Prince Serpentus answers for her on the morning of Thursday, September 11th, 909 AB.

_____________ __________
Signature Date

_____________ __________
Witness Date

“Go get your sire to fill out his part and, if he does, I’ll sign it as a witness. Then I’ll answer what I can.”

“Really?!” she squeals, squashing Rose under her with each eager bounce.

“You bet. Go ahead,” he insists with a lazy wave, “then come back and we’ll talk.”

She gently takes the pen in her mouth and holds the paper to her chest, launching off Rose’s back without a second thought.

“She’s kinda… different, isn’t she?” he asks, watching her wildly flap away.

“Sorry!” Eve bashfully apologizes. “I had no idea she would act like that! She’s really very nice, I promise!”

“She’s always a little excitable,” Rose agrees, “but that was something else. Thank you for not getting upset, your highness!”

“It’s no problem. And you can call me by name if you want. Serpentus is kind of a mouthful, I’ll admit, but I’m not going to get upset if ponies dispense formalities in a casual setting. So while we have a moment,” he turns to look over the girls, “what do your parents do, anyhow? Not newsponies, I’m guessing.”

Rose shakes her head no and answers first, “My sire is a manager at Stoneworks Architecture in Canterlot. If it’s made out of stone then there’s a good chance they build it. Dam is just now going back to work after raising me and my brother. She’s applied for a bunch of secretary jobs, but hasn’t had any luck yet.”

“Huh. That stinks. Hopefully she’ll find something soon. What about your folks?” he asks, turning to Calm Eve.

“Daddy works at Platinum Cartography. They get a lot of government contracts since his highness owns the company. Dam owns a shop with granddam selling magic trinkets and crystals and stuff.”

“Oh yeah? That’s really neat. When I was first starting to get interested in magic one of the first things I did was buy an enchanting set and a few low tier crystals to practice. Unfortunately, enchanting crystals is a pain in the rear when you don’t have a horn, so getting started was a real challenge.”

Eve bobs her head in agreement. “Dam doesn’t enchant them herself, but she does have a small team of ponies she contracts with to recharge crystals for local businesses. They’re a little worried about the education plan that’s going into effect this fall. Apparently other tribes and even other creatures can charge crystals as well.”

“They can,” Cure confirms, “but unicorns that have used magic their whole life have a lot more power, so a mid tier crystal would be the most they could charge at once. Then there’s the fact that a lot of appliances don’t have their crystals where they can be easily reached, so somepony either needs a horn or, I guess, a magical wand or staff.”

A thought comes to mind and Cure suggests, “Maybe your dam should commission a series of small, but good quality wands specifically for charging crystals. They won’t have to be nice enough to use for casting, but as long as they can channel magic a few meters to recharge a crystal, then...” he trails off, allowing her to finish the thought.

“Then dam could sell those to make up the difference!”

“Maybe,” he agrees, “some of it, at least. Of course that’s a one-time sale instead of an ongoing service. Again, unicorns have a huge advantage even if other tribes can charge things, so you’ll probably have some ponies, or other creatures, buy one and decide they would rather still hire somepony else because it makes them tired or takes too much energy.”

He leans forward to look at Rose and apologetically says, “Sorry I don’t have anything immediately useful for your dam, but I could ask… Well, Celestia may not know what all secretary positions are open, but I’m sure somepony at the castle would know of a job somewhere that needs to be filled. I won’t promise a job, but maybe she can at least get an interview out of it.”

“That would be fantastic! Thank you, your highness!”

“You bet.”

Conversation lulls for a moment as the three watch Star wrap up negotiations with her sire. The cheery pegasus flies halfway up the stands, then realizes the guards are giving her a disapproving look. She lands, tucks the paper and pen under her left wing, and climbs the rest of the way looking somewhat scolded. Reaching the top, she ducks her head in apology to the guards and climbs right back on top of Rose without a second thought, earning an annoyed huff from her unsolicited cushion.

Ignoring the brief glare the unicorn sends her way, she passes the paper and pen back to Cure with her wings dancing eagerly on her back. He looks over the form with a chuckle radiating amusement. “Smart,” he comments, signing his royal alias. “He added a cap, I see,” noting the “max of 20 bits” the stallion tacked on. “Still, I’m guessing another twenty bits per month won’t break your heart, hmm?”

“Mmm-mm!” she hums, shaking her head.

“Honestly, he could probably sell the contract with my signature on it and cover the raise until you’re an adult, let alone whatever his job will pay for the interview. Here ya go,” he says, passing back the signed paper. “So, maybe a little slower this time?”

“Okay!”

“What’s your first question, then. And girls?” he calls to the other fillies, “Unless your sires have made a similar arrangement, I suggest you let Star earn her raise.”

They share a look and come to some kind of silent agreement as the nearly glowing pegasus starts, “First question: What tribe are you most attracted to?”

Both unicorns erupt in blushes and uncomfortable giggles, but aside from a light pinking of her cheeks and ears, Star waits for his answer with rapt attention.

“Well, first off… where’s your notepad?”

A look of pure panic crosses her face and her head whips to the right to look at her sire. Cure’s horn ignites and a pad and pencil pop into existence, then float into the grateful filly’s hooves.

“There we go. So… what tribe do I find the most attractive, hmm?” he ponders, tilting his head in consideration. “Well, I don’t want to say anything divisive, but I have to admit that there’s just something about a beautiful set of wings that draws my eyes.”

Leaning far enough that her chest is on Eve, her eyes light up as she all but screams, “REALLY?”

He shrugs helplessly and sighs in defeat. “I can’t deny it. That being said, I have no plans to add to the group of girls that have already claimed me. Also, Iris and Elsa are the only fillyfriends I have that were born with a pair, so it’s not like I have some kind of fixation.

“Wings, be they feathered or membraneous, are just pretty and eye-catching if they’re well taken care of,” he says, lifting and spreading his own exceptionally large and immaculately groomed wings in the air to show off some truly impressive plumage. All three look on in admiration as the faint scent of cinnamon tickles their snouts.

His wings come down in a rush of air, folding against his sides with an audible clap and snapping all three out of their rumination. Looking pointedly at the blank notepad, Cure asks, “Did you remember to write that down? I’m not sure your sire will pay up if you forget my answers.” She begins scribbling furiously on the pad, her tail eagerly wagging behind her hard enough to rock her hindquarters from side to side.

“Okay! Tell me, what do you do for fun?”

“Ah, well… without giving any details, I have younger siblings that I like to spoil, so I spend a lot of free time playing with them, or helping my folks around the house. I hang out with my friends plenty, of course, and I like to learn more about magic. I think my favorite hobby is creating new things and finding new ways to use existing knowledge to make life better.”

The colt shifts more to his left side, facing the fillies more directly. “Innovation is something that I want to encourage ponies to chase. There is no doubt that Equestria is the greatest nation on Equus, but it is my opinion that we’re only getting started.”

Hoof held up in a lecturing pose, he explains, “Education is the first step in climbing that mountain, especially in math and the sciences. Chemistry, physics, biology, and engineering, in particular. I know I’m only a foal, but I’m confident that the smart ponies making the big decisions like Duchess Suncrest have similar ideas to myself. I’m really looking forward to working with her office when I start visiting schools at the end of the month.”

A beat of silence passes as the fillies blink in shock.

“How old are you, again?!” Rose inquires.

Cure chuckles warmly and shakes his head. “You’re only as old as you feel, so the best answer I have is… it varies from day to day. Without giving a definitive number, I’d wager I’m within a year and a half of your age.” He points a hoof at Star and adds, “I don’t think that one counts, by the way.”

“Right!” The filly pauses when Eve leans over and whispers to Rose. The pink unicorn leans up to whisper to Star who pouts but still asks, “How much magic do you know? How many spells?”

“Oh, geez… I don’t know exactly. Over fifty, for sure. Most are low level spells and cantrips. I’m more interested in spells for quality of life than I am anything big and flashy. I use Cleaning, Mending, Minor Illusion, and Light as much as anything. Except maybe Teleport, as you’ve noticed,” he says, nodding to the pad she’s writing on.

“Is that how you get around without being seen?”

“Well, it’s a lot easier than some kind of underground train system, which I’m pretty confident doesn’t exist in the Baltimare area. I don’t think that would work so well on the coast, but I’m not exactly a civil engineer, so who knows? To answer your question, between Teleportation and Invisibility it’s not hard to show up somewhere by surprise. I’m also very good at disguises.”

“Disguises?”

“Mmhmm. Observe,” he says, suddenly hopping to his hooves. He reaches with his right hoof under his chin, pawing around in his coat for a moment as if looking for something. Finally he grasps the tab of a zipper, which he begins pulling down his chin.

The fillies stare on wide-eyed as the alicorn seems to unzip his own coat. Even the normally stoic guards turn and watch in stunned silence, jaws hanging open in disbelief when he unzips all the way down his neck, then chest, down his tummy, up around his left hip, over his dock, then up his back through his mane, in a circle around his horn, and finally stopping at the tip of his snout. Like the tarp being pulled off a display, the entire alicorn’s exterior comes apart and falls to the ground in a split second, startling the fillies and even giving his guards a slight jump. Only his mother fails to react, and that’s because her hoof is already pressed firmly against her brow. The “disguise” is teleported away in a flash, leaving behind a bright yellow pegasus colt with a royal blue mane matching Star’s own.

“Oh, almost forgot!” he mumbles, reaching back into his mane. His hoof comes back out with a horn that he then screws into place on his brow with an excessively loud, high pitched squeak. Once in place, he gives it a couple taps until it lights up in gold, teleporting his crown, regalia, and shoes back into place. “Ta daa!” he exclaims, forehooves held wide as he waits for a round of applause that is definitely not coming.

Silence.

Complete and total silence fills the stadium as the fillies, his guards, every creature in the stands, and even the contenders on the field all halt in their tracks to stare on, unsure how to react. Innocently, he looks over the completely stunned crowd and his facehoofing mom and cocks his head to the side. “What?” he asks aloud to the group as he feels around his muzzle, “Do I have something on my face?”

That afternoon

As much as he was annoyed at having to pay for unnecessary security, Cure could at least recognize the value of having ponies conspicuously keeping an eye on Madame Adiah’s stand. For one, they seem to have kept any unruly teens from approaching and being a nuisance, and even cut way back on the number of flirtatious ponies trying their luck.

He wonders what will happen with the unicorns he suspects intend to rob him either tonight or tomorrow, but hopefully he’ll have a better idea in a few minutes when they show up for their three o’clock appointment.

Truthfully, he’s regretting wasting his time and energy with the whole zebra thing. Not only have they not fallen for his taunting, keeping up the rhyming thing has been a massive pain in the ass. Really, “pain in the ass” is wholly inadequate for how much of a nuisance it has been. Fortunately, Adiah’s conversations are very limited in scope and, for the most part, repeat from customer to customer with only a little variation.

In the darker parts of his mind, he had somewhat hoped to bait some foolish and unlucky group of zebras into trying something, but with all of the publicity and, now, the attention of the Guard, it seems incredibly unlikely that anything like that will happen. He’s not even really sure what he would have done if they served themselves up to him on a platter.

As much as he would be happy to take a pound of hide off of the zebras that ordered his foalnapping, he’s pretty confident that he wouldn’t be so lucky as to land anyzebra involved in that whole affair. The Matobo are at the top of his list of suspects, but simply assuming they were solely responsible could very well be a mistake.

Of course, if he were to find the right zebra, then extracting that information from them wouldn’t be too difficult. Reading a creature’s brain isn’t the way to get them to give up information. The only question is whether fucking with someone’s brain chemistry so they “voluntarily” give up the info is better or worse than torture. Being able to wipe their memories and put them back together good as new certainly adds a new spin to the whole argument to the point where he's not even completely sure it would technically qualify as torture.

If somezebra is doing something illegal and he catches them, would it be considered amoral to interrogate them in a way that leaves them unharmed with no memory of the event afterwards? It certainly strikes the colt as at least a little amoral, but there is a valid argument to be made that, with his talent in play, the treatment would be less harmful than even a single night spent incarcerated.

Either way, Cure is fairly confident in what Celestia would say. That means that if he were to take action, there would have to be absolutely no reason to ever suspect the colt was involved in the least.

That isn’t going to be possible with Captain Shield and Major Faheem maintaining a line of communication.

Clearly Faheem must be disposed of.

…

Or maybe he should just move on and keep an eye out in case they try anything else.

Yeah, that might be the more reasonable decision, he decides, looking up just in time to catch the two unicorns approaching her stall. With an exaggerated bow, she greets the pair, waving to the door of her wagon. “Ah, I believe that my three o’clock has arrived. Come along, we’ll mend that of which you’ve been deprived.”

“Good afternoon, Madame Adiah,” the mare warmly greets.

“Deprived?” the stallion inquires, the smile on his face replaced with confusion.

“It is not anything that should bring you shame. It is not your fault, Mr. Lake; you carry no blame. What is happening to you is simply the norm. Well fix you up so you can perform.”

“What?!” he cries, looking offended. His glare turns on his partner when she chokes back a laugh. “What did you put on that appointment request?!”

“Like Madame Adiah said, dear,” she starts, voice dripping with honey, “it’s just something that happens to stallions. No need to be ashamed. You'll be good as new in just a few minutes, right?” she asks, turning to look at the zebra.

“Certainly. If you would, please?” she asks, trotting into the wagon.

The mare trots on by, slapping his side with her tail as she saunters by giggling. He finally relents on his glare and follows along, cursing her under his breath the whole way. He finds Adiah standing at the far end of the room and his partner snickering from the bench to the side.

“Now,” Adiah begins, her kindly smile suddenly gone, “normally I would be happy to play along for fun, but I find that I would rather just call this farce done. Tell me why you requested this meeting. And make it quick. My patience is fleeting.”

“I don’t,” the stallion begins, pausing when a wave of magic washes over him. His horn lights up and a shield pops in place around him with the mare hopping to her hooves and immediately following suit.

“You are not mates and his equipment works just fine. Now spill quickly before I end up with a line. I witnessed you,” she turns to the mare, “trying to see into my home, and heard what you said when you thought yourselves alone.” An Illusion pops into existence, showing the two standing not far away from her wagon. It comes to life, replaying the conversation they shared the previous day, then stops when they approach to make the appointment.

“As you may have noticed, I now have hired protection. The Guard demanded their presence; I made no such election. Regardless of my choice, I am under their watchful gaze,” shadowy tendrils begin to form and dance on the roof of the wagon. They don’t reach down, but start writhing and slithering ominously as she continues, “So I cannot have the fun I desired with my chosen prey. I have very little patience for thieves, you see.” Her smile becomes more predatory with inequinely sharp canines on display. “I would not let you off with only a warning, if it were up to me.”

Eyes fixed on the threatening display overhead, both unicorns pale at the idea of further angering the terrifying zebra. “We’re sorry!” the mare squeaks, looking between the shaman and the ceiling. “Please don’t eat us!”

“There’s no need for violence,” the stallion assures her, shrinking down as he backs toward the door. “It was all just a big misunderstanding! I swear!”

“A… misunderstanding?” she slowly questions.

“Yes! Definitely! We… uhh…” he pauses in thought and looks to his partner. “Good luck,” is the last thing he says before vanishing in a flash.

The mare gasps, looking at the now vacant spot to her side. “THAT PIG FUCKING BASTARD!” she cries in fury.

“Never learned to teleport?” Adiah casually asks.

Attention brought back to the danger at the other end of the wagon, the mare’s bottom lip quivers as she holds back a sob. “No,” she weakly mewles, shaking her head while her legs tremble.

The door swings open behind her and Adiah raises her staff. “Go. Calmly. Do not my customers scare, or be assured that I can find you,” she leans forward and slowly growls out, “An-y-where.”

The mare does not need to be told a second time.

Alone in the wagon, the disguised colt can only sigh in disappointment. “Stupid friggin Tia and her dumb private guards. Just you wait! So many spiders…”

Author's Note

Not much to say about this one. It turned out shorter than I intended for a couple reasons (a rare occurrance for me). First off, my laptop's HD crashed on me last week. That, in and of itself, wasn't a huge loss. I had gotten more years out of the thing than one would expect and, fortunately, I don't save my work on my computer; it's all done in the cloud anyhow.

Of course, that meant that I had to write the last bit of the chapter on my tablet, which is a pain in the ass. It does this stupid autocorrect thing where it "fixes" a word, but not while or right after I type it, instead it changes it when I am a word or two down the line.

I'll write, "The filly flew down to talk to her sire about the agreement" and "sire" will suddenly flip to "wife" when I'm done writing either the "the" or "agreement". Hoof is another one - it changes that to "good" on me all the time. I could see if I was using the whole swipe typing thing, but it does that even when I finger-poke the letters in. Super annoying.

Oh well, "LFoD bitches about autocorrect, water still wet. More at 11."

Hopefully I'll be back up and running at my (currently) snail's pace sooner rather than later.

As usual, thank you for reading, rating, and especially commenting.

Enjoy!