Life Finds a Way

Friday, September 11th, 909 AB (later that day)

Lounging against his mother’s side as they soar through the air, Cure regards the ancient mare lying opposite the pair out of the corner of his eye. Muzzle inclined towards the younger mare’s ear, he comments in a conversational tone, “So it seems her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia, finally found time in her busy schedule to come spend time with her little ponies, ma.”

A small smirk plays across Amethyst’s muzzle as she nods in agreement. Bobbing her head, she keeps her eyes firmly planted on the side panel, studiously avoiding both looking at the nauseating expanse of sky or the subject of their discussion. “Downright magnamonious of her ta finally find the time, donchya think, colt? ”

The alicorn in question raises a single brow, distinctly unimpressed with the teasing.

“Mmhmm. Very magmalicious of her. Why, if it ain’t the most magmaloniouss-est thing I seen all year I don’t know what could be. Ta think, all it took was two and a half days for her to find a few hours ta grace everypony with her presence. It’s understandable, what with all them high-falootin nobles demanding her wisdom to… ya know, explain to ‘em why they can’t force their lower-class neighbor to move so they can expand their garden or whatever.”

“I will have you know that no such argument has been brought before me,” she deadpans, belatedly adding, “this week. Lady Hackleberry’s case was decided back in August.”

“It’s important work, colt. Someday, maybe, in a thousand years, give-or-take, yer gonna be smart enough ta have ponies askin yerself for advice or issue rulins like that. I reckon yer not gonna have time enough for us commoners either.”

“Maybe,” he lightly agrees, still ignoring the princess’s snort of derision. “Takes a whoooole lotta wisdom ta figure out that kinda stuff, though, ma, so hopefully it’ll be a while ‘fore I can’t find time ta dedicate a few days to tha ponies who’d happily dive in front of a spear for me.”

“That is entirely too far!” Celestia growls menacingly.

Cure’s ears perk upright and he looks around the cabin in confusion. “You hear something, momma? Coulda swore-” he freezes as his eyes land on the heated scowling mare on the opposite bench. “Oh! My bad, boss! Forgot you were here for a moment! With you bein MIA all week long I guess I just got used to the other side of the carriage being empty.”

“I find that exceedingly difficult to believe,” she huffs, turning to look out the window.

Rolling to his haunches, Cure gives a little hop and a flap to cross the gap between them, rearing up to crash against the side of Celestia’s neck and chest in a foreleg and wing hug. “Hurt my feelings by callin me a liar all ya want, Tia. That’s okay; we’re still just thrilled you decided to join us.” He twists his neck to look over his withers at his mother and quietly adds, “Eventually.”

The colt is promptly bowled over from his right when the princess’s left wing jabs forward into his side. “Abuse!” he decries, wings and legs flailing futilely like an overturned turtle beside her.

“I seen it, colt!” Amethyst joins in, tisking the larger mare. “Always so quick tah violence.”

His left hoof jabs accusingly in the princess’s direction, “Yeah! That’s gotta be like… the tenth time you’ve whacked me with them oversized feather dusters! Yer lucky I’m a pacifist!”

A snort blasts out her snout before she has any chance to stop it. Shoulders shaking in laughter, she shakes her head in disbelief. “A pacifist?! You?! The foal who would threaten a foreign ambassador in his own home?”

“You can’t prove nothin!” he insists, his expression the picture of overexaggerated feigned innocence.

“Who not even six hours ago fought and vanquished a monster by himself?! In the middle of the night just outside the Everfree Forest, no less?! Please!” she scoffs. “You must be the least passive foal I have seen in my entire life!”

Still sprawled on his back, he theatrically grasps at his chest with his forehooves, reeling back to the point where his horn nearly jabs a hole in the seat’s soft cushion. “Abusive both physically and verbally!” He looks to his mom and, with his right hoof pawing his chin, asks, “Does wavin them big sails in my face count as sexual harassment, too? I feel like maybe it kinda should, what with her bein my boss and all.”

“I dunno, colt. If only we knew somepony what knew all the laws ‘n stuff.”

Sighing, Celestia lifts her left foreleg and pulls the colt under her, rolling to squash him flat beneath her despite his halfhearted protests. “Are you going to be a pest all morning?” A muffled and somewhat moist response to the affirmative vibrates against her lower chest.

“Aww, don’t be mad, princess,” Amethyst interrupts. Smile stretching across her muzzle, she jerks her head to the bit of wing sticking out from under the alicorn’s barrel. “You know he just likes ta spend time with ya. Even if he won’t admit it out loud, yer one’a his best friends. You may not’a noticed, but I sure felt that little booty wagging more’n normal when ya said you’d be comin ta’day.”

A string of curses and more emphatic denials sound out before the very tip of a muzzle pokes free from just behind Celestia’s left foreleg pit. “That’s a filthy lie and you know it! I was just… uhh… excited about my breakfast!”

It’s Amethyst’s turn to snort as she shakes her head in denial. “Colt, that toast didn’t survive ten seconds once their lil feather show wrapped up.”

“Awwwwwwwww,” Celestia gushes, pulling the colt out from under herself, only to smash him against her chest in a powerful hug. “I enjoy spending time with you as well, Cure. Do not ever doubt that I consider you one of my very best friends!”

“Ah geez,” he sulks, limply hanging in her warm embrace, “you can’t go all sappy on me, boss. I can deal with annoyed, angry, or whatever just fine, but you know dudes freeze up when faced with genuine affection.”

“It is not complicated, young one,” she insists, turning him and gently setting him between her forelegs. “You must simply learn to accept it with an open heart and mind,” she explains as she gently nuzzles into his mane.

“Fine,” he sighs, knowing full well she is correct. He rolls to his back and spreads his forelegs wide, silently delighted at the way the princess radiates pure joy. Cure is once again reminded of the sheer size difference between his real body and the enormous mare. With his booty right up against her chest, her neck alone is longer than his barrel.

He momentarily considers shedding his typical golden flight suit to enjoy the warmth of her fur on his, but pony society’s weirdness about dressing and undressing, despite being a bunch of nudists, causes him to hesitate. Content to be used as a pillow by the cuddly giant, Cure enjoys the few peaceful minutes it takes to arrive at the competition’s grounds.

The slight jostling of their landing pulls him out of the stupor that he’d quickly fallen into. Hind hooves stretching up nearly to her withers, the young alicorn squeezes the elder’s neck and head against himself in a tight embrace punctuated with a nuzzle of his cheek against her chin. “Showtime,” he begrudgingly sighs, releasing her so they can prepare to disembark.

The three spend a few seconds ensuring their coats are flawless and that manes, tails, and feathers have not been unduly made a mess of. The single step thuds down and the door swings open to reveal bleachers full of ponies rising to their hooves. Conversation halts, heads duck into respectful bows, and soldiers come to attention as Celestia strolls out, wings splayed high in what Cure has dubbed the Alicorn Strut.

Cure and Amethyst follow in her wake, immediately noting a shift in the demographics of the ponies in attendance. An amused smirk graces the princess’s muzzle when she glances back at the pair as they take in the stands that, for the past few days, had been somewhat barren. Scores of young female pegasi, bat ponies, hippogriffs, and even a few griffons spread their wings in a curtsey for the young prince, their eyes locked on to him like prey tracking a delicious morsel.

“Maker help me,” he quietly prays, his eyes eagerly drinking in the glorious greeting. Doing his best to keep the wide grin from his face, Cure follows on the princess’s tail, head on a swivel as they make their way to the top. A nudge from his mom keeps him moving every time his pace slows and, within a moment, the three finally reach their places where they turn to face the crowd.

“Good morning, my little ponies,” Celestia greets with a small nod as her wings fold down on her sides and back. Everypony relaxes and returns the greeting, retaking their seats though not taking their eyes off their prince as he remains standing to her left.

“Good morning, everypony!” Cure calls out, waving a gold clad hoof to the crowd. “I have to say, I hadn’t expected so many other foals would be as eager as I am to get up early on a Friday morning. I am proud that the youths of my generation have come out in such numbers to show their appreciation for the ponies that put themselves between us and danger every day to maintain the peace that we enjoy.” He dips his head in gratitude and looks towards the colonel and his staff, silently ordering for the day’s events to proceed.

There is an air of confusion lingering over the crowd as the first two squads begin marching out onto the field, both clad in armor bearing the shield and windmill symbols indicating they are from Manehattan.

“Very subtle, colt,” Amethyst quietly compliments, softly laughing at the hushed conversations filling the stands.

“I figure that as long as I don’t acknowledge it I can eventually put a halt to this kind of crap,” he grumbles under his breath. “Slowly, over time, at least. I’m not going to spend the next however many years having everyfilly, or mare, with a set of wings waving them in my face. As lovely as it sounds, even that will get old in no time at all.”

Celestia agrees with a shallow nod. “Unfortunate as it is, I do not expect most to be discouraged quite so easily. I have no doubt that many parents will do little to dissuade their daughters from trying to catch your eye. Perhaps in the future you should discuss public statements either with myself or castle staff before relaying them to the media.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, defeat and disappointment creeping into his features. “I guess I should have known better than to just answer the questions without considering how ponies would react. Hopefully they pay just as much attention to the rest of what I said and don’t just focus on that one sentence.”

“I ain’t so sure that’s gonna happen,” Amethyst argues. “The fact that yer a huge nerd don’t sell as many papers as speculatin over yer love life does. Havin only gone on a date with the pegasi don’t help there, either.”

“So… should I start going out with the others to be seen in public with different tribes?”

“I am not sure that is a solution,” Celestia disagrees. “If anything, I would suggest you avoid the subject of who is courting you altogether. It may do little to stifle speculation, but perhaps, over time, it may cease being such a popular topic for ponies who like to gossip.”

“Princess’s probably right, colt. It was you takin the fillies out what really got ponies talkin anyhow. Bein seen more with ‘em prolly ain’t gonna help.”

“No,” he solemnly agrees, “I guess not. It’s not a huge problem. Whenever I’ve talked to the girls I made a point of that being an issue, so for the most part they’re all onboard with only going out in civvies anyhow.”

They watch as each squad steps forward to get geared up by the engineers with safety equipment as carts laden with weapons and shields are brought out for them to choose from. While they are being taken care of, a lieutenant trots out to the center and begins to explain the exercise.

Cure notices that the same beams that were used on the first day are once again laid out on the field, though instead of four squares there are two, each one twice as large. In the center of each is a plain, two story wooden building that looks like it has been slapped together overnight. A few crystals are affixed to their outside walls visible from the stands.

“Each year for the Competition, a different scenario is selected at random based on events that have happened before. Squads are challenged to use the assets that they would have at their disposal to assess the situation, determine a plan of action, and execute it. The goal is to subdue the aggressors while ensuring the safety of the innocents on the premise.

“In today’s scenario we look back to the end of the shipping riots in New Horseleans in 783 AB. Ponies upset about an economic slowdown gathered to protest diminishing wages,” he explains. “Unfortunately, extremists within their ranks turned to violence when a timely solution could not be found. Captain Foster responded promptly, restoring order to the docks, but several of the agitators fled to a nearby home and hid behind its residents.

“When negotiations failed to show progress, Captain Foster ordered her ponies to storm in and retrieve the suspects using minimal force. The perpetrators surrendered with no casualties, but I’m afraid that the simulated enemies in today’s exercise may be slightly less cooperative. Squads from the same city will go at the same time, and other cities’ squads will be kept in the dark until it is their turn.”

The crystals on each building flashes blue and an illusion settles across the field, altering the buildings’ unfinished appearances to that of a pair of typical houses. The first couple meters are stone leading to an open porch with a wide double door surrounded with light blue wooden siding. A narrow balcony wraps around the top level with a door flanked on either side with large windows. Curtains and blinds block everypony’s view from the outside.

When each team steps into their grid a solid opaque barrier blocks their sight from each other. They each spend a moment discussing how to approach the building. The team on the left splits into three groups of four; two each made up of earth ponies and unicorns while the fliers take to the upper balcony.

“How the hay does that whole thing work?” he asks, waving towards the illusion. “I thought crystals couldn’t store data, so how is the Illusion being maintained?”

“From the technician’s tents,” Celestia answers, pointing to the far end of the bleachers. “Multiple squads of engineers are responsible for the movement of the illusory ponies participating while others ensure that the house, its furnishings, and its surfaces all behave as one should expect. The latter is cast through a ritual that greatly reduces the strain on the individual ponies while allowing them to react to changes in the environment more quickly. Glass will shatter, wood will break, metal will dent, so forth and so on as one would expect to happen in real life.

“Teams will alternate every few hours so that nopony exhausts themselves too much. As you can imagine, maintaining the spell for very long can become quite challenging, even with assistance from others.”

“Huh. Neat.”

Conversation halts as the teams prepare for their assault. Only able to see the front of the building, Cure watches as an earth pony mare brings her shield up and looks over her withers at her sergeant. The stallion’s horn glows yellow for a moment in what Cure suspects is a signal and he gives his shield bearer a nod. The door explodes inward as she rams through. Cure can barely make out that she continues barreling into the house, breaking off to the left while the other earth pony, her shield held high as well, splits off to the right. The lead pegasus on the balcony jams a dagger through the door’s lock, recoiling away when a blue bolt fires through the broken frame. The blast draws gasps from the crowd who instinctively duck, even though it dissipates into nothing when it crosses the barrier that the beams make up.

The guards on the bottom floor seem to be successfully making their way through the building; the beams of fire from the second level cut off after only a couple shots. The pegasi don’t hesitate to take the opening, diving through the destroyed door with blunted wingblades and batons at the ready. The sound of crashes and breaking wood can be heard and an occasional body can be seen being thrown around the inside until finally, all of the action seems to come to a sudden halt.

The other Manehattan squad follows the same basic procedure, though they had the pegasi draw attention to the top floor first by banging on the windows. It’s impossible to tell from his vantage whether the distraction made any difference; the earth ponies in the lead still blast through the doors, providing cover to the unicorns that go in with horns blazing. Within a moment of each other, both squads are escorting out four illusory perpetrators and a family of six civilians.

Cure leans closer to Celestia and, out of the corner of his muzzle, quietly whispers, “That… was not very impressive, boss. I would be just as scared at the prospect of their rescue attempts as I would be at most hostage takers, to be honest.”

A quick flash of her horn and the box is surrounded in an invisible Sound Bubble. “I did not notice anything wrong with their approach. The hostages are safe, the protesters are under arrest, and aside from a few minor injuries,” she points out, motioning to the few glowing red crystals in the guards’ armor, “everypony emerged unharmed.”

“Yeah, this time. With a few changes and some new tactics, a few new pieces of gear? That whole thing?” he asks, waving at the field, “It could have been accomplished in a few seconds with minimal risk to the victims and no risk to the guards executing it.”

“And the perpetrators?” she asks, tone betraying what kind of answer she expects.

“Unharmed,” he insists. “Especially compared to somepony that takes a shield, hammer, baton, or even an armored hoof to the face. Tell me… how often does stuff like this happen? I mean, this scenario happened what… a hundred and twenty five years ago, so I’m guessing this isn’t an every other weekend type of thing.”

“Hostage situations? Very seldomly, and I cannot recall the last time I heard of one ending in violence.”

“What about standoffs in general? Ones where somepony barricades themselves in somewhere even without hostages?”

“Not… often,” she slowly answers. The princess crosses her forelegs in front of her and takes a deep breath. “Every so often a disturbed pony will make a mistake and get themselves into an unfortunate situation, but a few words of reassurance that the pony has not been abandoned are almost always more than enough to remind them that there is still hope.” She pauses and inclines her muzzle towards the simulations, adding, “Of course, that would not make for a very entertaining competition event.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t,” he flatly agrees. “Then again, with how huggy most of your little ponies are, they would probably rather watch your guards cuddling the rioters into submissions instead of arresting them.”

A sonorous laugh escapes the princess as she bobs her head in acknowledgement. “It is funny you should mention that!” she declares, voice full of amusement. “That is the only way a squad can achieve full marks!”

Cure and his mother both snort, failing to hold in their laughter.

“Just out of curiosity,” Celestia eventually begins, “what would you propose be done differently?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” he insists, scooting closer to lean against her foreleg. The mare doesn’t pass on the opportunity to scoop him up and settle him onto her pillow, refolding her legs to cross against his chest. Cure doesn’t even bother putting up a token resistance, happily snuggling his booty against her warm fur and wrapping his wings around her legs to squeeze them to his sides.

The two royals showing such affection draws a myriad of reactions from the crowd. The fillies that have stuck around despite him paying them little attention seem more interested in the display than most, either out of envy for one or both of their positions or, like many mares, are more interested in gushing at the dangerous levels of adorableness on display.

The few stallions that pay them more than a moment’s notice seem curious more than anything; a surprise given Cure would have expected them to have a similar envious reaction to the foals. Then again, he ponders, a lot of ponies - his sire included - are intimidated by the ancient mare, either due to her physical size, her beauty, her power, or that of her position.

Of course, there is no shortage of ponies seemingly looking on in approval, a facet of society that part of Cure will always struggle to wrap his head around. He can only imagine what would happen if a human monarch or president attending an official function scooped up even a good friend’s prepubescent daughter and started snuggling with them in an intimate embrace, even if from all appearances it were completely innocent and platonic. A man would be all but burned at the stake by the media and even a woman would be asked some very pointed questions.

The biggest reaction comes from a completely expected source. The cameraponies working the event nearly burst with excitement at the sight, burning through their film almost as quickly as Celestia herself could achieve with one of her solar attacks. He hadn’t really considered it before, but with so many camera lenses pointed in his direction, it occurs to him that this may be the first time that he and Celestia have ever been truly cuddly with each other out in public. Sure, they hugged during his coronation, and he’s always been close to her, but he can’t immediately think of a time when the media would have had an opportunity to see the two interacting so candidly aside from the first morning of the competition, during which the two got in a rather heated argument.

Casting aside the errant thoughts, Cure begins his evaluation of the Manehattan team’s performance, continuing on while the next city’s squads are brought out to be prepared for their attacks. “The first thing I noticed was that there wasn’t any attempt to determine who was in the house or where they were. Given how they’re keeping the other squads from being able to watch, I can only assume that they’re either going in mostly blind or are only being given a quick brief while they’re suited up.”

“They are told to expect resistance from multiple aggressors,” she explains. “The specific tribes and numbers are their responsibility to determine.”

“And I’m sure you would agree that if there are three earth ponies and a hippogriff or griffon in there that you’d do something different than if there are four unicorns instead, right?”

“That… would make sense. Guard doctrine generally emphasizes the need for a quick strike with overwhelming force once negotiations have failed to yield results.”

“So quick you wouldn’t even bother figuring out who or how many, though?”

Celestia tilts her head from side to side, ultimately nodding in acceptance. “I suppose if you could quickly ascertain that information, it would give you a significant advantage.”

Cure scoffs and gives a mirthless laugh, looking up at the underside of the mare’s neck. “Ya think?!” he snarks, earning a light scowl from her. “Seriously, though… I know that most scrying spells are a lot easier to cast on outdoor targets -”

“And are easily detected inside of buildings because of the impact they have on natural magic currents.”

“... right, there’s that,” he agrees with a cringe. “It would be kinda like tossing a bolder in a still pond, huh?”

“Indeed it would.”

“So what about something that would let the caster see through the walls. Or, even easier, use some kind of Shaping spell to pierce the wall so a unicorn can ‘see’ inside with their aura.”

“Which would alert any unicorns inside the building when a hole to the outside of the home suddenly appears and, again, cause a - granted, smaller than scrying - shift in the interior’s currents.”

Cure quietly curses, nodding in acceptance. “Okay, fair enough. What about some kind of device that could slowly, quietly eat through the wall to see inside that would prevent anypony in there from seeing out? Or, again, a spell? I haven’t seen one that lets you see through walls, but I have to imagine such a spell exists.”

“None that are not restricted or outright banned. I know of a spell using dark magics that will allow the caster to see directly through a wall, but that is clearly not something that would ever be allowed.”

“Fair. I bet there’s a way to use an Illusion spell to produce sound waves that will penetrate the walls, then display the results visually somehow, but… that sounds needlessly complex. I kinda keep going back to my ‘burrow through the walls’ idea. Or the floor.” He pauses in consideration for a moment before suddenly lighting up. “OR! Better yet - what about something like my surgical plant that can be stuck on the windows? I could modify the sensor to detect heat signatures or maybe even a focused horn aura to allow casting. Imagine being able to just suddenly Teleport the home invaders out into the middle of a waiting squad.

“Wait,” he pauses, tilting his head in consideration, “could you even Teleport them? I mean, there’s not a physical pony in there; just Illusions, right? I mean, it worked when it was cast in the arenas a few days ago, but...”

“You cannot Teleport an Illusion. The spell only works on physical objects. Those ponies were teleporting themselves, and the Illusion that their opponent fought would not actually teleport; it merely stopped existing in one spot and appeared in another the same as when the competitor first entered the arena.”

The colt’s jaw falls open for a split second as a tendril of existential dread worms its way up his spine. “Is… is that what happens when you Teleport?!” The sharp inhale from his mother tells him he’s not the only one to jump to a worrying conclusion. “It always felt more like stepping sideways than… you know.”

Slowly shaking her head no, Celestia explains, “That question was answered millennia ago. Seeking a way to do lasting damage to a less strictly-corporeal nuisance -”

“The asshole?”

“... yes. Him,” she sighs, earning a quiet chuckle from Amethyst. “As I was saying, while seeking a way of harming him in a more permanent fashion, several ponies worked to develop spells that do not attack the physical part of a being, but instead sought to harm or destroy a target’s very essence.

“From what I read when I was a filly -”

“Musta been on stone tablets,” he interrupts in a whisper.

Celestia’s forelegs squeeze much tighter for a brief second before she continues, “- even the most brilliant minds were only able to find a way to perceive the tiniest portion of another creature’s noncorporeal existence. Seeking to answer the very same question, ponies were observed both before and during Teleportation. While the movement from one spot to another is instantaneous, there is little doubt that movement does indeed occur rather than the wholesale destruction and recreation of the spell’s subject. After all, as I answered before, Teleport only moves the physical. The spirit follows because the two are bound together.”

“So… has anypony ever had something go wrong with a Teleport and ended up with… oh, I dunno… the teleport getting interrupted and the original staying put while a second pony suddenly popped into existence where they were Teleporting to? Cause that was totally a thing that happened in this one story, and, as is always the case, number two eventually turned evil. Or, at least, he became an absolute prick.”

“I am unaware of any such thing ever happening, nor can I fathom what circumstances could even potentially result in that.”

“Good,” he replies, tense muscles finally relaxing.

“As to your initial question about using Teleport in this exercise, even if they could Teleport an Illusion, you must keep in mind that the majority of ponies are not capable of casting the spell with adequate speed and precision, especially against a moving target. I suppose if you made a device capable of decreasing casting time and enhancing their ability to detect ponies to that degree then it would be effective, but for an eventuality that happens so infrequently it would largely be a waste.”

Cure’s ears droop and he huffs in annoyance. “Fine! I guess it’s not a huge flaming issue here, but I would still at least suggest a variety of crystals be made available to your teams. The casting is essentially instant, so it's just a matter of proper targeting assuming the opponent is not shielded. Even if it’s just one designated ‘high risk’ team in each city, there should be some kind of special weapons and tactics group ready to respond to things normal guards aren’t trained to deal with.”

“But there are,” she argues. “Every city or their nearby fort will have at least a few squads of specialists ready to respond to a crisis. The paladins that deployed to Baltimare are a perfect example. The policing forces in larger cities will also typically have specialized squads or departments to deal with their unique challenges as well. Even if some are… less effective than I would prefer,” she admits with a slight cringe.

“Chicoltgo?”

“Chicoltgo,” she agrees, blowing out a sigh of disappointment.

“So what’s going on in Chicoltgo that makes it so different? I only know it has problems because my parents mentioned it once.”

“Corruption has seeped into the city’s leadership so deep that I would not even know how to begin to purge the rot. Business leaders, government employees, labor unions… even some members of the guard, I suspect. Unfortunately, every attempt I have made to clean it up has yielded little in the way of real results. Sure, a convenient scapegoat is sacrificed when an audit or investigation is conducted, but it feels like the instant I turn my attention away ‘business as usual’ resumes.”

“Hrm. Yeah, I guess some things are a universal constant,” he wryly remarks. “So what are talking about here? Gross misappropriation of funds? Racketeering? Some kind of organized crime?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. The latest scandal came to light only a few years back. A bridge restoration project was awarded to a company that submitted the lowest bid, as is customary once a review of the company determined that they were capable of fulfilling the requirements. The three bridges were completed timely - barely - and, according to the initial analysis, were done according to code. It was only a couple years later that unusual cracks began to appear on the substructures. An engineering team was dispatched to determine the cause of the unexpected wear.”

“Let me guess. Substandard construction materials?”

“Indeed. Now, normally such an attempt would have been detected before construction even began, but the deception went well beyond the construction company itself. Fraudulent documentation, falsified invoices, manufactured quality reviews… Every precaution meant to stop such an occurrence was somehow neatly sidestepped. When the investigation concluded, all hooves pointed towards the project manager as being the primary perpetrator. As if one single pony could have orchestrated the whole thing,” she scoffs in disbelief. “When Mr. Weathered Stone was ultimately ordered to appear to explain his actions, it was his widow that showed up in his stead.”

“They… killed the dude?”

The mare scoffs again, shaking her head. “Not unless they used a time travel spell to give him a heart attack. He had been dead for three years before the project even began. Somehow, all of his licenses and certifications had been maintained despite his passing without his wife's knowledge. An investigation into how that might have occurred resulted in yet another round of hoofpointing between a half dozen departments within city hall.”

“And… you didn’t go after the mayor?”

“Every indication is that the mayor’s office followed protocol throughout the project. As much as I suspect somepony,” she nearly growls, “had a horn in the whole affair, suspecting and proving are two very different things.”

“Huh. So, in other words, y’all need to revamp your administrative checks and balances.”

“Which has been done before. Many times. To little effect in that blasted city.”

A beat of silence passes as they watch the Salt Lick City squads wrap up their attempt. One of the illusory hostages - a pegasus stallion - is being carried out on an earth pony guard’s back. It is unclear if that happened because the guards mistook him for one of the perpetrators or if he was injured by the hostage takers themselves. Either way, Cure is pretty confident that it’s going to cost them some points when their performance is evaluated.

“So… have you ever considered coming down on the government like a flaming hammer and replacing the whole lot of them?”

“Again, many times,” she sighs. “Marchioness Manesota has been tasked with directly overseeing any project with expenses exceeding ten million bits. Countess Daily was… is unhappy with the arrangement, but I cannot find it in myself to feel sympathy given how much it cost to re-re-build those bridges.”

“Why not replace her? I mean, it’s not like anypony could stop you.”

“I try not to infringe overmuch upon the responsibilities of the ponies beneath me. Of course, if there is proof of malfeasance then I will not hesitate to take action, but with no proof,” she shrugs. “All I can do, without becoming a tyrant, is ensure that sufficient oversight be put in place to prevent a repeated performance.”

“Huh. They’re lucky they have you, boss. I woulda come down on them like a whole freakin sack of hammers. That kinda crap is exactly why I hate payin taxes so much. I work, I give up my time to earn money, then somepony abuses the system to reach inta my pocket, take what they want, and piss it away? Uh-uh,” he vehemently denies, slowly shaking his head. “If they think yer a tyrant for firing ‘em they’d be goin full code brown when they see what I’d do to ‘em.”

“Sounds ta me like ya ought’a send the colt up ta Chicoltgo for a couple years,” Amethyst lightly jests.

Quietly snickering at the imagined results, Celestia bobs her head in agreement. “I suspect they would happily accept my more stringent requirements for additional funding, would they not?”

“Damn right they would,” Cure enthusiastically agrees. “I’d even give you a good discount for my services, boss. BodyWorks Enterprises is officially branching out into government consulting and independent auditing. Not exactly the line of work you’d expect from a cosmetic alteration business, but hey… I like to think of myself as a stallion of many talents.”

“Mmhmm,” his mom hums in agreement. Reaching over to nudge Celestia’s right foreleg, she adds, “Just don’t be surprised if a few ‘a them ponies responsible mysteriously disappear, princess.”

“Very mysssteriousssly,” Cure seconds with an unsettling hiss creeping into his voice.

“As tempting as that may be, I do not think such extreme measures are warranted.” Muzzle wrinkled in consideration, she belatedly adds a quiet, “Yet.”

“Well whenever you decide you’re done playin nice just let me know. Also, if you do want me to put together something for your guards to use - like my swarms, for example - just say the word. I may not have besieged a house before, but I have enough memories of how to properly do it.”

“Oh? You have not previously mentioned having any law enforcement experience.”

A laugh bursts out from the colt’s muzzle before he has a chance to stop it. “No, no… not even close. At least, none in real life. I do, however, have literally thousands of hours of simulated experience and maker-knows how much time seeing it done second hoof. Which… probably doesn’t really equate to much in real life, granted, but I feel like I could resolve this little kerfuffle in under a minute just by myself, even without any puppets.”

“That ain’t a fair standard ta use, colt. Most ponies don’t have a dozen venomous darts linin their throat or feathers what can cut through wood like butter.”

Celestia’s gaze slowly pans down to the colt snuggled beneath her throat.

“Ix-nay on the ‘enom-ay, ma!” he quietly growls to his right. Eyes flicking up to meet the princess’s, he quickly averts his gaze from her judgemental look. “Heh… I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Hmhmm,” she flatly hums, making no effort to hide her doubt. “Tell me, Serpentus… exactly how many different ways do you have on you right now to deliver a venom of some kind?”

“What?!” he gasps in mock outrage. “Why would I need any?” His wings tighten around her forelegs in a soft, feathery hug as he continues, “I mean, I am literally in the safest place on the planet, right here, snuggled against my beloved princess’s warm, fluffy chest. The very implication that I would have anything ready to be used is borderline insul-”

“Cure.”

The colt freezes mid sentence at the princess’s single word command. His ears droop pathetically against the sides of his face as he looks up to meet her gaze with big, watery eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

“That does not work on me, young stallion.”

“Fiiine!” he petulantly whines. “I might have one or two ways,” he drifts off at her continued doubtful stare. “Or like… nineish, maybe. But hey, don’t blame me for being cautious. You can never be too safe. I mean, take that bird over there, for instance,” he insists, pointing at a seemingly random robin flying overhead.

Both mares look up to follow his outstretched wingtip as the bird suddenly comes to a midair halt. “Is it a typical, innocent robin or disguised master assassin just waiting for the right time to strike? There's no harm in being ready, just in case.” With one wing still flapping, the robin looks down to meet the princess’s eyes and slowly drags the other wing’s edge across its throat before pointing to the group, then taking off in a sudden hurry.

“Good job, you two,” he huffs in annoyance. “Now it knows we’re on to it. It’ll be more careful next time, just you watch.”