Friday, September 11th, 909 AB (that evening)

“All I’m sayin is that it’s a waste ‘a time and effort,” the colt quietly grumbles, flying sideways in a hover next to the princess’s neck as they make their way through the castle. The group has returned after the event’s closing speech and enjoyed a quiet, private dinner. It was a lighter meal only meant to hold them over until the evening supper is served.

“Just tell me what ya want and give me thirty seconds. I’ll have us all lookin picture perfect before you even finish your sentence. I mean, hay, makin ponies beautiful is what I friggin do for a living, ya know?”

Celestia sighs deeply and gives him a look of exasperation. “I am very much aware of your capabilities, Cure. While I have little doubt in your ability to suitably impress, these ponies have decades of experience helping me prepare for events such as tonight’s.”

“I get that, really!” he insists, forehooves held up in surrender. “You’ve got ponies you trust to do their best at makin you presentable!” he agrees, smirking at the weak glare sent his way. “All I’m sayin is I could do basically the same thing in a fraction of the time. After all, they barely touched me up at all before my coronation, and I didn’t hear any complaints from anypony.”

“Complaints?” she asks followed by a bitter chuckle. “No. There were no complaints, per se.” Accusingly, she adds, “Just a bevy of unusual and awkward questions along with numerous newspaper articles insisting nopony attempts to photograph a foal inappropriately.”

Forelegs folded across his chest, the colt huffs in annoyance. “Not my fault ponies are a bunch’a perverts.”

“Cure,” she pleadingly begins, “I feel as if I do not ask terribly much of you -”

A snorted laugh is quickly smothered by the colt’s right fetlock.

“- which can be remedied at any time,” she all but growls, causing the colt to shake his head so fast his flight briefly wobbles, “but I would ask that you please, please, listen to the professionals and, if you can manage it, try to enjoy a bit of pampering for what it is worth. It has been a very long week… a very long two weeks,” she amends, earning a mild pout, “and I could use some relaxation before the evening begins. Let the beauticians do their job and I am sure you will find the experience more pleasant than you expect.”

“Yeah, shut yer trap, colt. ‘S been a minute since I got me a good groomin, an’ as much as yer massage plants and whatnot are nice 'n all I still miss bein primped on. Bad enough I gotta spend two weeks in a different coat; least you can do is let me enjoy a royal makeover.”

“Alright! Jeez! I be good, I promise! I don’t know what the big deal is, though. I was pretty disappointed with the experience when I took the girls to the spa back on Hearts and Hooves day.” Head tilted in consideration, he adds, “Of course I figure that may have been because of the subdermal armor.”

Celestia’s pace slows briefly as she processes that information. “You… had armor under your skin? When you went to a spa of all things?”

“Changelings, boss,” Cure offers as if that answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Depending on how they feed, a spa could be a great place for them to set up shop. Think about it; barring a few exceptions, everypony that walks through the door is going to be in a pretty good mood, right?” Not waiting for a response, he continues, “Assuming they can feed off happiness in addition to love they should have themselves a decent food source that hangs around for hours. If feeding makes the victim sleepy, then that’s not a problem either; going to the spa is relaxing enough that nopony would bat an eye at being drowsy afterwards.”

As if talking to a simpleton, she slowly asks, “You thought there may have been changelings at the spa?”

Wings refolding by his sides, Cure lands smoothly in a canter. “I considered it a possibility. Keep in mind that I didn’t have the capabilities back then that I do now. I was still more-or-less a typical earth pony at the time. The only advantage I would have had were the crystals I was carrying, and who knows if a changeling’s physiology is similar enough that a Stun spell would even work.”

“It worked against them during the invasion,” Celestia calmly explains.

“You took prisoners?”

“No, but Stun can be cast rather quickly and, even at low power, will significantly hinder an opponent regardless of where it hits. Ponies, even trained soldiers, also tend to hesitate far less when they know they are not killing their opponent.”

“Understandable,” Cure agrees, knowing that he’d heard things about soldiers back on earth.

I presume you are currently protected in a similar manner as you were during your spa trip?”

Cure scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Duh, boss. Never leave home without it.”

“Don’t be offended, princess,” his mom interjects. “He says that, but truth is he never takes it off at home, neither.”

“Very well,” Celestia accepts with a look of slight disappointment. “Then I would ask that for tonight or at least until they are done working on us,” she rushes out when he begins to open his muzzle to object, “you remove your armor and allow yourself to enjoy the ministrations of the ponies that are helping us to prepare.”

The colt’s snout crinkles in consternation even though he knows, logically speaking, he has no reason to be concerned, but it was only earlier the same morning that he had woken up to an undead predator trying to sniff him out. The pleading look Celestia gives him weakens his resolve. His eyes flick forward, then over his withers at the two sets of Royal Guards escorting the pair.

He briefly weighs the odds that some of all of them could have been subverted or replaced, or that Celestia has been compromised somehow. He dismisses the idea only seconds later, recognizing that the notion is absurd given that he has been in her presence almost non-stop since he woke her up that very morning. Cure realizes he hasn't responded for at least a few seconds when Celestia slows her pace and regards him. Disappointment, concern, and a hint of genuine hurt all show in the mare’s expression.

Hoping to explain away the moment of awkward silence, Cure rushes to assure her, “Sure, I'm working on it now. It's been a moment, so I had to sort out the best way to make it happen.”

She responds with a brilliant smile, unaware of the look Amethyst is giving him from her other side. Neck lowered for Cure to see her beneath Celestia’s barrel, the mare cocks her head and raises both brows, all but screaming her disbelief to the world. As soon as the ancient alicorn resumes looking forward, the colt shoots his mom a glare even if it lacks any real heat.

The last few moments of their march happen in relative quiet with the only sound being the mixture of hooffalls on the Royal Hall’s tiled floors. Cure and the pegasi guards with their lighter frames clip-clop more quickly with their shorter strides while the earth ponies and Celestia herself clomp more heavily at a slower pace. Unclad as she is, Amethyst's steps are somewhat muted, sounding more like wood softly thumping steadily along past both alicorns’ apartments.

Situated just beside Celestia’s suite is a room Cure has mentally labeled as her private bathing room, though he suspects it has a more officious name like boudoir, spa, or maybe just salon. The wall that butts up against Celestia’s private bathroom has a pair of large, open shower stalls with glass separators in-between them. Three shower heads attached to hoses hang on each of the walls and a raised, cushioned platform sits in the middle with grated drains surrounding it on all four sides on the floor.

Closer to the palace’s exterior wall is another pair of stations meant for drying. Dozens of towels are folded up neatly on the lower shelves against the walls while large blowers, brushes, oils, files, and other grooming instruments are laid out on the shelves’ tops awaiting use. Unlike the showers, there is no bench for anypony to lay on, but the cubby Cure assumes is there for him does have a solid platform to give the stylists more easy access to his undercarriage.

The opposite side of the room looks more like a traditional groomer’s station. Just like the drying area, dozens of implements are laid out at the ready, but it is also half surrounded by large mirrors and much more illumination with another raised, cushioned platform for a pony to lay on while the beauticians do their work. A single doorway leads to a wardrobe area, but Cure can’t see around the corner to peek into Celestia’s closet.

Cure looks over the setup and the dozen ponies standing by at the ready, each one standing at attention with their heads bowed to show the proper respect. “Greetings your majesties!” they cheerfully exclaim all at once. It always strikes Cure as odd how happy ponies seem to be even when they are at work.

He wouldn’t expect somepony given the job of royal beautician to be grumpy, but every sense he has indicates that each mare is genuinely thrilled at the opportunity to work on the alicorns. Unbidden, the possibility of special talent shenanigans comes to mind as he considers his own situation.

He makes a mental note to pay attention whether he becomes bored or burned out after doing his job for a couple years. If he’s anything like the princess then there’s a good chance he’ll never experience such fatigue. Whether that’s a good thing or not, he isn’t sure. As unhappy as he may be with anything influencing his feelings, he at least recognizes that any responsible entity may also be the reason for his existence.

After exchanging greetings with the eager stylists, Celestia sheds her shoes and regalia motioning for Cure to do the same. “Ladies,” the elder alicorn calls, getting everypony’s attention, “young Serpentus and Lady Minerva must look their absolute best tonight. I leave them in your capable hooves.”

Knowing escape, while certainly possible, would not be the optimal solution, Cure shrugs his wings, reaches up to his collar, and tantalizingly slowly unzips his golden flight suit. In a teasing tone, he calls out to the group, “Make me fabulous, my dears. It shouldn’t be too challenging,” he says, pausing as he kicks off his suit with his hind leg, “after all, the maker gave you a magnificent place to start.”

Giggles and titters erupt from the mares, yet, for some bizarre reason, neither Amethyst or Celestia seem suitably impressed. While Celestia is being taken to her own private stall, the smaller two ponies are ushered to the other. “Go ahead, momma. I won't take very long to get ready.”

“Uh-uh, Colt. Them wings of yers'll take a whole lot longer than anything I got. Go on,” she shooes with her right forehoof, “I don't mind waitin my turn.”

“Come along, your highness,” a pegasus mare urges him on. “Climb on up and we’ll get you allllll taken care of!”

Completely unperturbed with the gaggle of excited mares, Cute follows along and, with a little flap, hops up on the platform. Standing there being bathed by a hoofful of mares is slightly more bizarre than when it's done by a single one first thing in the morning, but after a year of readjusting his behavior to what is expected in pony society, even hiking a hind leg while a mare scrubs his junk is only unusual because of the number of onlookers.

Fortunately, everypony in the room behaves exactly as they should at seeing the Royal Weiner. No uncomfortable twitters or giggles sound out, and aside from a few curious side-eye glances wondering what an alicorn penis looks like, nopony behaves any differently than Cure would expect at the hospital.

Thanks to his cheating talent and relatively small stature, it doesn't take a lot of work to get him cleaned up. Well before the other team finishes with Celestia, he is wrapped in a single towel and herded down to the drying area. He isn't sure why they don't just do everything in one spot; there's no electricity that would make it a danger. Rather than point out what seems to him an odd design choice, the young alicorn chooses to play along instead.

The next step he goes through is actually somewhat amusing. He knows that even with his armor gone his earth pony constitution alone would make him hard to injure, but the mares working to dry him off treat him like some kind of fragile porcelain while they are working. Towels Warmed with cantrips are gently wrapped around him, and opposed to the quick, rough wiping he is accustomed to, they gingerly dab and knead the water from his feathers and coat. He does his part to help, absorbing the water through his skin, and it only takes a few moments before he’s escorted to the final stations of his trip around the room.

He hops up on the brightly illuminated platform, chest thrust out and wings splayed up high. The stylists circle around him exchanging ideas and taking notes before coming to some kind of agreement. They descend upon him with shears and brushes at the ready, meanwhile a bright red unicorn approaches him with what looks like a toothbrush while staring fixedly at his horn. Another lifts his right forehoof and sets it on a block, file and polish floating in her aura.

Only thanks to his enhanced senses is he able to follow the flurry of activity going on around him. Every millimeter of the foal from snout to tail is gone over with a fine toothed comb. Every feather is combed and oiled to perfection, his hooves and horn are polished to the point of nearly shining, and not an errant strand of fur is allowed to end up out of place.

The experience is positively euphoric to the point he has to force himself to focus on Madame Adiah's stall to keep from drifting off to sleep. The gentle scraping of his horn alone sends delightful vibrations straight into his brain, and as nice as the preening that Drift and Glacial gave him was, they can hardly hold a candle to the combined attention from a pair of professional preeners.

He only comes back to full awareness several minutes later when he notices a wheeled wardrobe being carted out behind him. The doors are thrown open to reveal an entire lineup of foal-sized formalwear ready for him to try on. As his eyes pan over the array of shirts, jackets, pants and accessories, he can’t help but notice the eager grins on all the mares around him. Even Celestia, dried and in the stall beside him, is watching on with excitement painted across her features.

A lump forms in his throat as he finally recognizes the trap; one he waltzed into willingly without even knowing. The doll is surrounded. He’s cleaned, dried, groomed, and ready to be played with. Conveniently, a whole big box of accessories was just brought in and positioned between himself and the room’s only exit.

“Uhh… parlay?” he tries only to get a somewhat sinister round of laughter in return. “Ah… fudge me,” he sighs, sitting on his haunches. As dozens of articles of clothing begin levitating out of the wardrobe, the colt raises his forelegs in surrender. “Fine! I give up!” he declares, accepting the fate that has befallen him. “Just… be gentle?”

Shortly before sunset

The sounds of conversation and soft music seep through the door as the guests mingle and take advantage of the provided refreshments. As proper decorum demands, the most important guests cannot show up early, so the two royals and one royal-adjacent are, instead, awaiting the designated time in a nearby room playing a few games of chess.

Hailing from somewhere east of Saddle Arabia, the Equus version of the game is nearly identical to Earth’s, with the only changes being to the names of two of the pieces. While Cure incredulously expected the princess to be shoehorned into the whole affair, the king and queen pieces retain their traditional names; it is the bishop and rook pieces whose names are swapped for vizier and chariot, instead.

“Still don’t get why neither ‘a you are wearin nothin,” the colt grumbles under his breath.

Assuming she had literally centuries of experience with the game, Cure had never anticipated putting up any real challenge against her. At the same time, the casual ease with which she has dominated their matches is growing increasingly frustrating despite his best attempts to maintain the facade of indifference.

“I truthfully only wear anything for very special occasions. Not only has wearing one dress or another caused problems over the years, but I genuinely prefer to wear nothing if I have the choice. The same goes for jewelry and other accessories as well. There is no need for anything beyond my crown and peytral, so why bother wearing anything else?”

“Same here, colt. I’m good just how the maker made me. If if weren’t fer yer little stunt you wouldn’t hafta play dress-up neither.”

“Whatever,” he quietly grouses. “Still say it was funny. Your move, boss.”

With the board reset, Celestia begins by moving her king’s pawn out a couple places. Cure follows suit, stopping her pawn with his own. Still not deigning to look at the board, the princess lights her horn and moves the king vizier pawn out, almost as if offering it up for him to take. The colt pauses for a moment, all but certain it’s some kind of trap, but unable to spot what it may be. After a few second’s consideration he decides that it shouldn’t matter so early on in the game, and moves his king pawn to take her vizier’s.

With a coolly indifferent expression, Celestia lifts up her knight and places it in the way of his pawn, stopping it in place and preventing him from moving his queen in position to check her king. Hoping to protect his pawn or, eventually, force the knight away, Cure slides his knight’s pawn out to provide support. He briefly prays that Celestia goes after that pawn with her knight, but she obviously notices his queen lying in wait. Instead, the mare places her other knight out onto the center of the board in a move that thoroughly confuses him.

Now almost certain he’s already toast, he moves his knight pawn up to threaten Celestia’s knight, clearing a path for his queen to come out and check her king once the knight is removed. The mare hums in thought and moves her king knight again, placing it three spaces straight down from his king and threatening the pawn he had just moved. Thrilled to finally check the princess for the first time of the evening, Cure’s queen comes flying out to the edge of the board with a diagonal line straight to her king.

Trying his best to keep the joy out of his voice, Cure proudly calls out, “Check!” but his happily swishing tail betrays him. Chuckling at the sight, Celestia’s knight pawn moves forward to block his queen. Seeing an opportunity to maybe get another queen, Cure takes her pawn with the one that had originally been in front of his king. As soon as his hoof releases the pieces, Celestia’s queen comes trotting out to take the pawn just beside his queen, clearly intending to take it out.

He briefly considers taking her queen, but a knight is positioned to strike back. “I… am totally screwed, aren’t I?”

“Very likely, yes.”

“Colt, you were done ‘fore yer first move.”

“Yer not helpin, ma.”

“Oh, I know. Weren’t never my intent ta help,” she says with a devious laugh, earning a withering glare in return. “Don’t you go givin me them stares, little mister ‘I always have the answer for everything.’ I ain’t yer dam. I’ll come right over there and bop ya one if I gotta.”

Huffing as he turns away, Cure grouses as he looks over the board. “Gettin whooped by one mare while another one threatens me. Y’all stink.” Knowing he’s probably hosed, Cure considers sacrificing his queen to remove her own, but instead eyes his pawn that is only two spaces from the edge of the board. Knowing that his queen is lost, he figures he can get a new one while taking a chariot at the same time. He moves his pawn into position, wincing when his queen is taken, then blows out a sigh of relief when he gets her back on the next move while taking her chariot.

The princess moves her queen one spot closer to his side, which doesn’t seem to really give her any additional options. The move puts the piece on a diagonal with his king, but a pawn is in the way blocking a check. His eyes drift to the nearby knights, wondering if they are poised to strike, but with nearly all his pieces still trapped behind pawns he has few options to respond.

He can move his knight right by the queen to protect the pawn, but there’s nothing stopping her from taking it. His vizier is all but useless, blocking in his king, and his new queen is too far away to do anything to help.

“Mate in three moves,” the princess hums as he surveys the board looking for salvation. “Maybe four more at most,” Celestia gently teases.

“Nopony likes a sore winner!” he huffs, finally reaching for his vizier, moving it in front of the king to give it a little room to move.

So focused on the queen, Cure is thrown off when her knight moves instead to capture the pawn blocking her queen from checking him. It gives him the chance to move his knight to force her queen away, but that’s exactly what she wanted. Instead of retreating with her queen, Celestia’s knight moves down and to the left, putting his king in check from both the knight and the queen in one move.

“Check,” she gleefully announces, “and mate on the next turn.”

Sure enough, there are only two moves that he can make. He can move his king either left or right, escaping both checks at once, but either one will allow her queen to move directly by his king and still be protected by the knight at the same time. “This is bullhonk!” he declares, reaching his hoof out to knock over his king and ungracefully accepting defeat.

“Come now, Cure. You're better than that,” Celestia gently chides, stifling her laughter when he folds his forelegs across his chest. “Such foalish behavior,” she tisks, feigning disappointment. “What would your dam think if she were to see you right now?”

The colt scoffs and rolls his eyes, arguing, “She’d probably be disappointed in the princess she all but worships bein a big ‘ol bully!”

“I am not being a bully,” she patiently denies. “I am merely playing as I would against anypony else. You certainly would not appreciate it if I were to go easy on you, instead. Besides, passing the time with a game of chess was your idea, anyhow.”

“That doesn’t mean you hafta smug up the room whenever ya win!”

“I am not ‘smugging up’ anything! That is not even a word!”

Hoof thrust upwards into the air, Cure declares to the entire world, “I am a prince of Equestria! Smugging is a word if I say it’s a word!”

“And I am THE princess of Equestria!” she counters. “I say it is not, nor shall it ever be one!”

“Yeah, well, you’re not THE princess of the Ponish language! So there!”

“Unlike your questionable authority over the language, I would argue that I am, in fact, THE princess of the Ponish language! It was I who decided to go with the more modern language after the defeat of Discord. Luna’s foalhood books always romanticized more archaic ways of speaking to the point she refused to give it up even hundreds of years later.”

“I swear”, Amethyst interrupts with a snorted laugh, “y’all bicker like an old married couple. Behold, everypony!” she calls out to the heavens, “the almighty rulers of Equestria! Arguin over a board game like a couple’a little foals!”

“Oh please! Like yer any better! Besides, I am a foal! At least I am acting my age!”

“For once I complete agree. And I was not arguing,” the elder mare patiently disagrees. Snout haughtily raised into the air, she insists, “I was simply pointing out that Cure chose the game.” A beat passes and she adds, “And that he was incorrect, of course.”

Cure responds with a dismissive snort. “Whatever. Enjoy your win for now, lady,” he menacingly growls, jabbing a hoof at her chest. “I'll study up and whoop yer tail next time we play!”

Shocked at his impassioned assertion, Celestia cocks a brow and questions the colt, “Truly? You would really invest the time necessary over a silly game?”

“No,” he instantly denies with a scoff. “I got enough crap goin on, but if I just accepted the loss gracefully you probably would have thought a changeling had replaced me.”

A small chuckle escapes the mare as she casually points out, “While the very prospect of you being taken is certainly concerning, I cannot help but feel a deep well of sympathy for any would-be abductor.”

“Oh please, like I'm gonna be mean to ‘em. If there's even any changelings out there then the best thing they could do is come my way. I know what they are, I have a notion of what they've gone through, and I’d bet my bottom bit I could find some way to get their bodies nutrition without parasitic feeding. Enough about the love bugs. How much longer ‘till we can get on with this shindig?”

“I believe Duke Dresser was announced while you were pondering your surrender. The servants will be by to fetch us once he is settled.”

Amethyst chimes in with a smirk, “So ya got plenty ‘a time ta beat the colt a few more times, huh?”

“Oh, so you think you’d do better, huh?” Cure snarks back. “Feel free, ma,” he offers, rolling to his haunches and waving to the table in invitation. “Show us what you got.”

“Eh, I’ll pass,” she declines, flopping a hoof in the air. “Don’t wanna make ya feel any worse than ya already do.”

“How merciful of you,” the colt gruffly remarks. “So,” he begins, turning back to the princess, “is there a reason why your nephew and his git have avoided this whole event like the plague?”

“None that I am proud of,” she responds, annoyance creeping into her voice. “Unfortunately, my dear nephew does not have a very positive outlook on the Guard. Oh do not get me wrong; he understands their value and importance. He simply does not care enough to commit his time to recognizing their efforts.”

“That’s… kind of a shitty stance to have for somepony who has been second in line for the throne for a few decades.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. I would normally be concerned as well, but given the circumstances,” she says trailing off.

“Right, yeah, true enough. It's not like yer goin anywhere.”

“Go ahead an’ tell her why yer worried, colt,” Amethyst urges with a chuckle.

The colt rolls his eyes as Celestia looks curiously between them. “You’re not gonna embarrass me, ma. We,” he motions with a hoof between the princess and himself, “have talked about this plenty of times.” Turning fully to face the solar alicorn, he explains, “I had suggest that when you’re ready to have foals-”

Cure cuts off the sentence immediately when the door opens barely a hoof. A pale blue muzzle with a healthy ping glow pokes its way in and bright green eyes scan the room’s interior before settling on the princess. The door opens wider and an earth pony mare dips her head in a bow, ears pinned flat on her skull. “Apologies for interrupting, your majesties!” she quickly blurts out, shifting nervously from hoof to hoof. “The guests are prepared for your majesties’ entrance.”

Cure fights back a wince at being overheard, but otherwise manages to school his reaction. Amethyst doesn’t do quite as well, cheeks darkening at causing such a gaffe while turning away to hide it. The princess, fortunately, maintains her typical neutral appearance, though Cure does note a slight tick up in her temperature, especially on her face and neck. “We will be out in just a moment, Miss Holly,” she calmly responds in dismissal.

The mare takes the hint, backing out with another bow and pulling the door shut almost on her snout.

“Perhaps such discussions should be postponed until our privacy can be more guaranteed,” she lightly suggests. “As for your concern, however, I do not anticipate needing to rely on my nephew when the time arrives. Now, I believe we have kept our guests waiting long enough.”

“Yeah,” Cure quietly agrees, hopping down off of his seat.

“Worry not,” she assures him, attempting to allay his concern. “I would remind you, again, that castle staff know to be discreet, and that exact topic has been brought up in many a conversation already.” After pausing a beat she adds, “Though that may be the first time any of my servants had heard it from one of us. Regardless,” she draws a deep breath and briefly ruffles her wings, “let us put it out of our minds and enjoy the celebration.”

“Sure thing. So how are we doing this? We goin in order by rank? Horn length? Wingspan? Years of public service? Duration as an alicorn?” His head tilts to the side in consideration for a moment. “Reverse order by last letter of our names?”

Celestia blinks a couple times as she mentally evaluates his list, snorting a laugh when she realizes they’re all the same. “I believe we will go together, unless either of you object.”

Cure merely shakes his head while his mom shrugs and responds, “Works fer me, princess.”

The princess leads the three out of the room and down the hall, pausing briefly near the doors to the ballroom for the shorter colt to get in place. The music fades to silence and conversation soon does the same. A voice can be heard calling out, “Announcing Her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia, His Highness, Prince Serpentus, and his highness’s mother, Lady Minerva!”

The sounds of bodies rushing to their hooves accompanies the door slowly opening, revealing a massive ballroom filled with uncountable thousands of ponies. Even after everything he witnessed during his own coronation, Cure is still amazed and awestruck by the grandeur of a legitimate royal event.

Heads and wings held high, the three stroll down the center of the room, gracing everypony with friendly smiles and acknowledging nods. As ponies begin to either salute or dip into bows Celestia laughs lightly and speaks up in a voice that carries all across the room. “Greetings, my little ponies! Please, rise and stand at ease! This is a celebration of your hard work, after all!”

She greets ponies by name and exchanges pleasantries as they make their way to the north end of the hall where the most important ponies are seated at a large, circular table; the event’s champions amongst them. Celestia rounds the table, standing behind the cushion to Duke Dresser’s left. Cure and Amethyst file in beside her, nodding respectfully to the other guests at the table.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Celestia begins in the otherwise silent room. “As you all know, I am not one for long speeches, so you need not fear that your beverages will become overly diluted before I am finished.”

A polite round of chuckles sounds out in the room and several glasses are hoisted in cheer.

“Before anything else, I would like to express my appreciation for the ponies responsible for ensuring this year’s Guard Competition was a phenomenal success. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of ponies, both guard members and civilians, worked tirelessly not only for the last week, but also in the months leading up to Competition’s start. In particular, Colonel Stratos for the event planning and coordination and Colonel Mayday for managing the day to day operations,” she pauses for a round of applause.

The colonels both stand, offering appreciative nods to the princess until the stomping and clapping die down.

“Of course, as this is a competition, we must also give a round of applause to the overall victors of the event. I want everypony to raise their drinks for this year’s champions!” She raises her voice, filling the room with excitement and as she calls out, “Baltimare’s Regional Guard Unit Three, led by Staff Sergeant Iron Bulwark, stand and be recognized!”

Stomps, claps, and shouts of celebration sound out throughout the room as ponies cheer for the team. Sitting on his cushion, Cure claps his hooves as he looks over the crowd, noticing something odd. Though applause still fills the room, more than a few squads seem far more subdued than he had anticipated. The event is a competition, so it’s understandable that some ponies would take it more to heart, but the disdain he sees on some ponies’ faces stands out starkly in the otherwise jubilant crowd.

As Celestia continues her speech, he focuses his attention on the nearest table with the seemingly disgruntled squad. It only takes a moment’s focus to tune out the princess, but what he hears leaves him every bit confused as it does angry. As everypony listens to the princess’s speech, Cure sits in silence, taking in and committing to memory every pony he hears making ridiculous accusations.

He is only roused from his concentration when a fetlock nudges his side. Barely keeping himself from jumping, he looks up at the princess in question. “Well?” she quietly asks.

Caught not paying attention, Cure blinks and confusion as muffled laughter sounds out across the room. Celestia chuckles warmly, and leans down to whisper in his ear. “I asked if you have anything to add.”

“Oh!” he exclaims, hopping to his hooves. “Sorry everypony! I’m sure you all want to get back to socializing, so just like Princess Celestia, I’ll keep this very short. Just like I am!” he jests, exaggerating a pout. Polite chuckles sound out as he continues, “I can’t begin to express how proud I am that one of my hometown squads managed to win the entire event! Baltimare is lucky to have such stalwart, hardworking, and dedicated ponies protecting it!” He looks around the table, meeting the eyes of every guard in the squad as he says, “I offer congratulations and a hearty ‘job well done’ to each and every one of you!

“I’m not the only one that’s excited to see a regional guard team succeed, either. Now, I don’t think everypony knows this, but alicorn hearing is really, really good, and you wouldn’t believe how many of your fellow guardsponies couldn’t help but comment about how impressed they were with your performance while Her Majesty was speaking. While we don’t have time for all of them to share their thoughts with the crowd, I can’t help but feel obligated to at least recognize a few of them for their vocal support of their fellow soldiers!

“Go ahead and stand up, Sergeant Coldsnap from Manehattan!” The unicorn goes wide-eyed in panic and looks around in confusion, lifting a hoof and pointing at her own chest. “Yes, ma’am! It may have been too quiet for the victors to catch, but I certainly heard you! Go ahead and rise to your hooves!” Ears pinned flat to her skull, the unicorn climbs off her cushion and waves uncertainly to the crowd. “Awesome! Don’t worry, Sergeant, you’re not the only one I’m going to pick on! Let’s make this quick so everypony can get back to the party. Sergeant Wailing Call from Seaddle, Staff Sergeant High Tide from Tailahassee, Sergeant Buckhorn from Whinnyapolis, and Staff Sergeant Indigo Trail from Vanhoofer.

“I heard you praising our victors during Her Majesty's speech, and I think I speak for everypony else from Baltimare when I say thank you for being such good sports! A round of applause for these five, as well, everypony, for being so gracious even in defeat!”

Author's Note

Alright, so... it's definitely time to do a 'state of the story' post. First off, let me assure everyone that this is not an "I'm stopping" announcement. That's not happening. Now, that said, it doesn't take a master detective to notice that my writing speed has gone from about 30k per week to somewhere closer to 3k. I chalk that up to a number of factors that just keep piling on. The biggest, of course, is real life.

I have mentioned in the past that I moved. Ever since then it's been one hit after another with house repairs, unrelated family issues, and miscellaneous shit I don't need to go into. I've read stories where the author disappeared for a while, then cited feeling down/whatever when they finally do get around to posting a chapter. I'd always been like, "eh, I guess being bummed out can make it harder to write." I didn't appreciate how profound an impact it has. My motivation for the last few months has been abysmal at best.

That's compounded by this whole competition arc. It's had a few parts that I thought were fun and that I really wanted to touch on. The mistake I have made is getting caught up in the minutia so badly that it has dragged. And dragged. And draaaaaagged. Now, here we are nearly 5 months and... what? 18 chapters after the start of the arc? A period of time that's only supposed to be two weeks in story? Ugh. There's slow paced and then there's just being glacial (and I don't mean the filly).

I have definitely spent too much time on the details while trying to make the world seem at least somewhat "alive." That's not a task that I think I am fully up for. Some authors really can make it happen, but they're ... ya know... good authors. Ones that make money selling books. I am not even close there, nor will I ever likely be, and that's fine by me! I need to let it happen when it comes naturally, but I've been trying to force it and, in my opinion, it's been a little obvious that I am struggling with it.

So the question is, "Where does that leave us?" Obviously, this arc is almost over. I had (again) a big list of things I wanted to have happen at the ball. I am not sure if I'll bother, or just wrap it up right here. Either way, I absolutely have to change up my schedule. I've been barely finishing chapters the evening before posting for the last few months. That's not something I do well with. I used to have a 3-4 chapter buffer and, earlier in the year when I mentioned that had evaporated, several folks said "Go to every other week and build it back up."

I will be doing that, but first I am taking a break. I don't plan on taking more than few weeks off, and I'll probably poke away at the chapter when I feel up to it, but I need to take a break for a minute and not have the self-imposed deadline taking the fun out of writing.

So... yeah, long rant there, but I promised early on I would keep everyone in the loop as far as how the story was progressing and if there would be changes to how it is posted. So that no one gets anxious thinking I've legitimately bailed, I'll probably hop on just to say hey or something even if I don't have a chapter ready.

Thanks for your continued support, everyone. Enjoy the chapter, short as it is.