Saturday, October 4th, 908 AB (4 days later)

Bouncing out of bed, Cure quickly takes care of the basics, washes up, and dances down the stairs. It’s not quite sunrise yet, but that just means he has time to get breakfast ready for his parents. He’s been riding a high all week since the appointment with the lawyers and even two days of school boredom couldn’t get him down.

Really, going to school sucked far less than he anticipated. The class size is small and the teacher, Polished Apple, was quite the looker as far as he was concerned. Sure, she didn’t have wings, but being the magnanimous type, Cure could overlook that flaw.

Dawn didn’t have them either, yet, but he was certainly developing feelings for the girl anyhow. She’d gotten past the “crush” phase already, so his teasing wasn’t having the same impact as it had the first couple weeks. Now that she knew the colt a bit better she was learning to take his attempts at embarrassing her and just roll with them, occasionally flipping the script on him.

She and her brother had come over to hear the good news when the family got home Wednesday night. They ended up not going for a run that evening; instead Solar and Dawn got an update on everything that had happened and they spent a while talking about enchanting and the potential Cure sees in it.

Unfortunately neither unicorn seems to have a knack for spellcrafting, but Cure’s not in any particular hurry to tackle that mess anyhow, aside from the small tweaks in the book from Canterlot, that is.

He figures when he’s ready to really start working on bigger modifications he can set up some kind of funky horn on a vine rig that he can control from several meters away and just kind of test what happens when he changes one rune or another until he can get a feel for exactly how the whole thing works.

That will allow him to try different combinations and, in theory, the only risk is an exploded horn that he can fix pretty easily. As exciting as it sounds to try, Cure plans on waiting until he’s older and, hopefully, has a bit more magic power to throw around. As it is now he simply lacks the capacity to make more than a couple attempts unless he sticks to the low level spells and cantrips, which he doesn’t see a real reason to alter anyhow.

Horn in place, Cure hops up on the table so everything is easily in view. A mixing bowl, flour, eggs, baking soda, vanilla, sugar, milk, butter, salt, nutmeg, and a set of measuring spoons and cups all float out of the cabinets and the cold storage pots.

Cure is legitimately having fun gathering up the ingredients while thinking up a familiar tune.

"duh duh duh DUN DA DUN"

It just feels like the right kinda tune when he's making everything line up with willpower alone. Waving his hooves and swinging his body back and forth, he doesn’t even register his parents gingerly making their way to the living room.

Stepping carefully and staying far enough back to avoid his heat sensors, the three sit on their haunches and quietly watch the show, both mares leaning on their husband while they smile at their son's antics.

Ingredients gathered, Cure lifts his right hoof slowly as if he’s picking up an enormous boulder, the action mirrored by the bottle of milk. Pouring the measured amount into the bowl he repeats the act with the butter. With all of the fury of a lone soldier firing his soul at the approaching horde he… carefully uses a warming cantrip to heat up the milk and melt the butter.

Shortening thoroughly slain and mixed, he uses both hooves to hoist the gargantuan weight of a few eggs, then calls down the wrath of a thousand samurai to very gently cut them, rending their shell, and depositing their bounty in the mixture; their pathetic remains discarded with the rest of the trash… in the trash bin to the side, where they go.

At the minute mark the music stops. With bated breath the parents watch and listen as the soft and quick hums can barely be heard in the room. With microscopic precision, he mimes tweezers extracting the smaller quantities with the measuring spoons, adding them to the concoction.

Vines finds the whole process adorable. The body movement, the music he’s enthralled with, the exaggerated and silly motions he’s making. It’s a difficult struggle, keeping herself from wrapping around the cute colt and smothering him in kisses and nuzzles and just biting those floppy ears he’s subconsciously using like twin conducting batons.

Title looks on while Cure finally gets to the last ingredient; the flour. As if swirling a fancy wine, Cure twirls his hoof while the measuring cup loosens and scoops cup after cup of flour, the mixing spoon slowly combining the ingredients in the bowl as the pace and volume of the music picks up, then abruptly cuts off.

Once all ingredients are poured in it’s apparently time for the main event. Cure rolls up his nonexistent sleeves, splays his hooves forward to crack his nonexistent fingers, and rolls his neck and shoulders in preparation for the final showdown. Swaying and waving his hooves, Cure’s clearly building up to something. All three parents trade looks with raised brows as the colt gets prepped for a showdown of some kind.

And then, he cuts loose.

Deed finds himself biting his lip trying not to laugh or cheer for the colt. He’s clearly beatin the shit outta somethin, mentally at least, and that pancake batter is takin a whoopin worse than any confection he’s ever seen. The fight goes on for a solid minute with well timed attacks, launched along with the music. Deed can almost swear he hears explosions in the distance as the colt whales on the mixing bowl’s contents.

He’s not exactly sure that punches, hoof stomps, knee drops, and, occasionally, forward kicks are the best way to bust up flour lumps and get a good, smooth mix but he’s damn proud that his son will be ready to kick plot should any hostile breakfast creatures even threaten Equestria’s safety.

Grande finale complete, Cure lowers the bowl onto the counter top and wipes his brow, despite the lack of sweat.

With an approving nod he declares preparations complete and begins floating all the ingredients back where they belong, depositing dirtied utensils in the sink for somepony else to deal with because ya either cook or clean, not both dammit.

With everything set, Cure prepares to get cooking when he’s suddenly assaulted by a round of cheers and applause from behind. Cure can feel his ears sag as he lets out a sigh. “Ahh hell. How much were you there for?”

“Oh, from about the start on, I would say. Way to give that batter what for, son,” Deed cheers, jabbing out a few punches.

“Yeah, Cure. You sure kicked its flank. Now lemme take over. As cute as the widdle Wavey-poo’s playtime was, I’m starvin.”

“Of course ya are…” he quietly mumbles as his mom trots past him.

Freezing mid-step she looks over her withers at the colt. “What?”

“I said anything for my beloved mother,” he insists, with a big, wide-eyed smile.

“I really liked the music, sweetie. Maybe you can find a spell to put some of the songs you’ve heard into one of those gems.”

Title grumbles out a “thought so” as she gets started cooking while Deed sets the table. After his mom burns the first one Vines takes over. She still eats the pancake, of course, despite the smirk Cure gives her.

Once Vines is done cooking up the batter, which is much easier now that Cure has rigged a heating crystal into the stovetop burner, the family starts digging in.

“Not bad, son. You were up awful early. Excited to head into town again?”

“Eh, I’m not sure. I still have some reservations about this, as you know, but I’ll at least be glad once we’re done. I’m looking forward to tonight more than the meeting with great grandpa… no offense.”

“No, I get it. Ya don’t even know ‘em, and we’ve said he’s a bit of a hardflank, so I’m not upset. Just mind yer manners and all. Yes sir, no sir, please, thank you, and so forth.”

“Your sire is right, sweetie. He’s brusque but family is everything to him. Be respectful, but keep in mind he’s a military pony too, so don’t be surprised if he’s a little bossy.”

“Just be yerself, Cure. What could go wrong?” Title asks with a smile. Both Deed and Vines scowl at her for a second before going back to Cure.

“Ignore yer mom, son. She’s just a trouble starter like a blue colt I know.”

“Noted. So do we have time to go to a gym beforehoof? You know I’ve been wanting to get some hard numbers on everything.”

“Yep, yer moms are gonna go poke around the shoppin area for a bit. We’ll be a couple blocks away, but don’t plan on doin much. We don’t wanna show up all sweaty and stuff.”

“Nah, I wasn’t even going to really work out. I just want to see how strong I actually am to get a baseline, then measure TK field strength… then repeat both tests while actively channeling magic to see if it’s a multiplicative effect. If you’re up for it, I’d like you to do the same thing, pa.”

“Sure, I just hope it ain’t too busy what with us goin on a Saturday mornin.”

“Ahh crap… I didn’t think of that. Do ponies work out a lot, though? We don’t even have a gym out here, so I figured it was more of a niche thing.”

Title jumps in to answer. “Not much, honey. You’ll probably only have a dozen or so ponies there, and they’ll all be too busy doing their own thing to pay attention to ya. Just don’t start tossin around huge amounts of weight unless you wanna stand out. Have you made some changes you haven’t told us about?”

“Uhh, not really but kind of. I don’t know if you’d really consider it a huge change, but I’ve beefed up my bone and muscle density a lot. Tendons and ligaments can only get so strong, but I’ve definitely improved them by rearranging their protein structures to be more like what you see in that spider silk I gave you."

"I think they’re a lot stronger, but there’s not really a good way to test. I could replicate them and hang weights or something, I guess," he mutters, ignoring the the fact that dangling weights on, essentially, pony body parts is slightly disturbing to his parents. Refocusing he adds, "The main limitations there are not screwing up something related to my growth, but I’m actively monitoring that and making sure everything is going right.”

“How would you know what’s right, though?”

“Well I scan all my friends every time we run, so compared to them I’m growing a tiny bit more. I can only assume it’s related to getting my mark. Now that I think about it, that’s probably why Ferric is bigger and stronger than anypony else. Well, that and her work.”

Title considers the possibility for a moment and, eventually, agrees that Cure’s theory is likely right. “How much have you grown? You don’t really look any taller, though I did notice ya seemed heavier the other day when you gave me the massage in Canterlot.”

“I’m a little under a centimeter taller. I can only tell because I can compare my scans. As far as weight… well. I’m not sure how “meal appropriate” this is,” he says, getting a sigh from his dam, “but I’ve taken some of the ideas from those insects back at the zoo and… let’s just say I barely have to go potty anymore.”

“Please don’t be disgusting, honey.”

“I won’t dam. I’ll just kinda give you a filtered explanation, how’s that?”

“Thank you.”

“Sure. Well, suffice to say that a normal pony only gets about eighty percent of the nutrients he or she eats. Some of that is because we don’t chew enough, but most is just that our body doesn’t always break everything down all the way to get every bit of energy."

"There’s negative returns on investment, see, so larger creatures like us would normally burn more energy getting everything than we would if some of it escaped our system without being broken down. With a more efficient system, though, that's not an issue for me. I'm using almost everything I eat.”

“Huh… that’s interesting.”

“Right? Well, for us in a civilized society that inefficiency isn’t really a huge problem, especially since I could literally eat anything right now and, worst case scenario, I would just pass it eventually. Most things would get broken down though.”

“Like… rocks, metal?”

“To a degree, yes. Iron, for example, is something we need, just not much of. There’s a balancing act, of course, so if I sat down and ate a bunch of rocks then they gotta go somewhere, ya know?”

“Honey…” Vines warns.

“Well, they do,” Cure answers with a shrug. “I’m not being gross, it’s just a simple fact. I mean, I could change a pony so they can pull the friggin rock back outta their nose, but there’s already kind of a path and supporting muscles to make it go the other way, so why bother?”

“Don’t fill the toilet with rocks, son. It ain’t built for that.”

“HA! No, I’m not eating rocks, but my point is that I can take in ten kilograms of food over a few days and use almost the full ten kilograms. A lot goes towards burning energy and I do have some fat stores. I’m keeping myself around fifteen percent, which is a pretty healthy level.”

“C’mere, sport,” Deed says, waving his son off to the living room. The food is gone now, so Cure quickly levitates everypony’s settings to the sink, getting a thanks from his dam, and trots out to the living room. Both of his moms follow and take up seats to watch.

“Alright, son, lemme get a feel for yer weight now,” Deed says, sitting on his haunches. Cure walks in front of him to let his sire lift him up.

“Well you do seem heavier, but it’s not like ya weigh eighty kg or anything. Maybe just five kg, give or take? I dunno, it’s pretty hard to tell small differences.”

“Right, I wouldn’t want to be your size some day and weigh like six hundred kg. I’d break everything I step on. There’s a balancing act to it, ya know? Since I can change and heal anything in my body really quickly and without using hardly any magic I can try a lot of different things. I’ve been testing different bone compositions to find a good balance between strong, flexible, and not overly heavy. I think I’ve found a good mix.”

“Yeah? How do you test it?” Title asks.

Sitting on his haunches, Cure holds out a hoof. He grows a ten centimeter long, half centimeter thick bone straight out over the course of about a minute, then disconnects it from his hoof and passes it to his sire, who looks it over and passes it to the moms. He repeats the process a few more times, with each sample having a slightly different color.

“Uhh… what are these, Cure?” Title asks as she fans the four bone cylinders out, unsure what she’s supposed to do with them.

“So the first cylinder is the same composition you’d find in a typical colt my age, specifically in their femur. It’s really tough, granted, and it will bend some, but if you stress it much it’ll break. Obviously my femur is thicker than that half-centimeter width, but you get the point.”

“The second one is still what you’d find in a normal colt, just one that works out or is really strong. Honestly, that’s about what you’d expect to find in somepony my age that’s built like Ferric. It’ll take a bit more punishment than the original one, but it’s still just mundane bone.”

“The third is the same composition as that rhino back at the zoo. Rhinos are big, heavy, powerful creatures that can weigh up anywhere from a thousand to thirty five hundred kg. Now that one didn’t seem to work out a lot and had a pretty sedate lifestyle, but I was still able to get an idea for why they can move weighing that much and not break every bone in their legs. You’ll notice it’s a fair bit tougher.”

“The final sample is what I have in most of my bones right now. It’ll bend a lot more before it breaks, and it’s harder to bend it at all. If you were able to balance on that bone with all your weight you could probably hop around on it and it won’t break. You’d punch holes in the floor and your hoof, though. If you put it on a scale you’ll notice it’s only a little heavier than the others, too.”

Deed looks at the samples thoughtfully. Bending a few, he can tell that the colt’s not joking. The last one barely gives at all, even if he puts some effort into it, and it doesn’t show any signs of breaking. “Huh. And this isn’t gonna make ya short or nothin?”

“It may in somepony else if their body couldn’t make more of it. It won’t be a problem for me, though.” Pointing to the sample he explains, “That’s made of living cells, just like regular bones. When I grow it’ll grow naturally too, but even if it didn’t I could just manually grow myself with some work.”

"I haven't seen a bunch of sticks like these laying around, Cure," Title points out. Cure holds his hoof out for the samples, then pops them in his mouth one at a time to the parents' horror.

"What? I don't even need to chew them, I'm just reabsorbing the nutrients. I told you they're living cells and I just made 'em. Anyhow, you do realize that we’re doing something similar to make you grow, too, right, dad? You’ve grown about four hundredths of a centimeter over the last few days. Welcome to second puberty, by the way.”

Deed shakes himself out of the brief shock. “Uhh. Oh! Neat. My voice ain’t gonna change again is it?”

“No, we’ll only make you a bit taller, longer, and a smidge thicker so everything is proportional.”

“I don’t think yer moms can handle that, son,” Deed says with a big grin, waggling his eyebrows at the mares. Neither of them pays him any mind, though, and Cure just lets out a sigh while rubbing at his temples.

“Can you give us all these super bones, Cure?” his mom asks.

“Of course! I'd like to do it in small increments, but that’s the best way to make changes anyhow. Maybe after I make his changes each night I can work on each of you a tiny bit too. It’ll probably be six months or so before all three of you are fully converted, but we can start with the most important stuff in your head, your spine, and your ribs.”

“Mm… I’m not sure, sweetie. You know how I feel about changes. You’re sure the only thing this’ll do is keep us safer?”

“Yep, and maybe a tiny bit heavier. If you weigh 170,” he says, smiling mischievously at his glaring dam, “kg now then afterwards you may weigh 180 or so. Dad would go from about 200 to maybe 215, but he’s gonna put on a good five to ten percent just from being bigger anyhow, so maybe 225 to 240? I dunno…”

All three parents consider their son's proposal. It’s a change that Vines isn’t terribly fond of, but it won’t be outwardly visible and the only time it should matter is if they’re otherwise likely to get hurt, so she’s willing to accept it given it’ll only ensure her family’s safety. Cure continues his explanation while she’s pondering how far down that road she’s willing to go.

“The only reason I haven’t offered to do more for you all is because I wanted to make sure no strange problems would come up. Bone doesn’t just sit there after all, it also houses marrow that makes blood and does several other important things. This does all that too. I’d have to account for areas on your body that need to be more flexible, though… like when you’re giving birth in a few months.” Grimacing at some horrific idea he adds, “Flexibility is better than strength in some areas.”

“I say do it, son. It’ll only keep you and yer moms safer. I can’t imagine when it would ever come up, but ya never know when an accident can happen. This way if yer not there ta heal it they’re more likely to be fine anyhow.”

“Yep, absolutely. I can also make it so you can consciously turn off pain in areas, but you would have to be really careful with that. We feel pain for a reason, after all. I could do that at the same time I’m tweaking your bones, though, that way if you’re hurt you can still function despite the pain that could otherwise prevent you from getting out of further harm’s way.”

Title hums thoughtfully, then with a nod says, “That sounds very useful, honey. I didn’t know you could make unconscious things so they can be controlled. Isn’t that kinda dangerous though?”

“It definitely is. I wouldn’t do that for most things, like your heart beating, but it’s worked out pretty well in other areas.”

Both mares look at their husband with knowing stares. He chuckles a bit and shrugs. “The colt ain’t lyin. Havin control over some things that are usually automatic is pretty nice,” he says with glowing red ears.

“You don’t say… No wonder you stayed…” glancing at Cure, Title stops mid-sentence.

“What? You can say it. It’s not like he got friggin struck by lightning and suddenly his stuff got an upgrade. I was the responsible party, after all.”

“Confidentiality, son! C’mon! Yer killin me here!”

“They’re your wives, dad. They have the right to know just like I tell you what I’m doin to myself. Besides, how else would the damn thing suddenly grow, become prehensile, and start vibratin like there’s a stampede? Special herbs?”

“Uhh… well I heard about this one pill…” Deed starts, getting a laugh from everypony in the room.

“Yeah, and I bet some Saddle Arabian prince sent you a letter sayin you were related to some dead sheik and had an inheritance sittin out there. Ya just needed to send a few bits to collect it, right?”

Pushin the colt over, Deed mutters “shattap.”

Dusting himself off, Cure stands and faces his sire. “Ya better watch it, old timer. Just cause yer bigger now doesn’t mean it’ll always be the case.”

“Meh, I ain’t scared.”

Making a show of it, Cure reaches up, snaps his horn off, tosses it to the side, and full-body tackles the bigger stallion. It… doesn’t go well for him, especially since Deed’s gotten pretty good with his TK field since he went out drinking a few weeks earlier.

Vines and Title simply sit back and enjoy the show, happy to watch the colts burn off some energy before they take off for town.

The Rusty Barbell’s name doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, but that doesn’t stop Deed and Cure from checking out the place. The owner, a large, dark red stallion unsurprisingly named Rusty Barbell agrees to talk to the two in his office after they approach the young stallion working the front desk about gathering some numbers for a "science experiment."

Cure had come prepared, and had drawn out a ledger-like spreadsheet to record all his findings on.

Rusty is about a half hoof taller than Deed is, and although Cure’s definitely bulked Deed up a bit over the last month, there’s no doubt that the larger stallion has put some serious time into the gym, and not just as the owner.

He’s about the only other stallion that Cure’s seen so far that has a legitimately black mane and tail like his father’s and his mark shows two trapezoid shaped weights with a bar between them, bent up in the middle like it’s on a pony’s withers.

After several attempts to get the pair to sign up for a three year monthly plan, Rusty finally agrees to let them use the equipment for half the price of a normal one day pass and let Cure in for free with the express warning not to get himself hurt.

Title had been right, fortunately, and the gym was nearly empty. There were maybe a dozen other ponies on various forms of equipment with a surprisingly even split between mares and stallions. All but two are earth ponies, Cure notes, with a pair of pegasi running on treadmills. Apparently gettin swole isn’t a big deal for unicorns, or they just happened to have different schedules.

Unsure where to start, Cure figures the draft pull weight machine would probably be a good overall indicator of strength since it hits just about every muscle group. With his sire in tow he heads that way.

“So dad, have you ever used any of this stuff?”

“Nope,” he answers, looking the machine up and down.

It reminds Cure of a basic row machine from before, but instead of pulling back towards his body he straps himself into a harness that wraps around his shoulders at the base of his neck. Unfortunately, he’s way too small for the harness, even with it tightened all the way. One thing he learned from watching others’ mistakes is to never, ever use exercise equipment in any other way than it’s designed to be used.

Despite the fact he could heal himself from almost any injury, he decides he’ll forgo the pulling exercise for now, and instead gets his sire situated.

The machine is a very heavy steel contraption, and the cables that go to the harness look like they could pull a good sized truck out of a ditch with no problem, and despite the wear on the unit it was obviously made to easily handle the max weight of the attached plates; a staggering stack that goes up to two thousand kg with a long pin that’s as thick as his leg to change the setting.

The thick pulleys that feed the cables to the harness are situated at the bottom, so Deed should have no problem exerting his full force forwards without being pulled upwards or back at a weird angle.

“Alright dad, the harness seems to fit you fine. It sucks that I’m too small. I really wanted to get some numbers for myself, but oh well. At least I can get some free weight numbers and figure out some stuff there. For now, all you’re going to do is pull forward slowly. I can’t emphasize that enough, dad. Slowly. For now only use raw muscle, so stop cycling your magic, alright?”

“You got it sport. How much you got on there?”

“Two hundred and forty kg. I figure about your own body weight is a good starting point, so three plates. It should be easy. Remember, muscle only. If you use your TK field only do so to not slip or something.” Cure pauses to look down. The pull surface is a thick rubber mat sitting on a metal plate that’s attached back to the machine to prevent sliding and to prevent the machine itself from being pulled over if some moron were to pull too fast and hard. The mat also has raised, padded steel bumps for ponies to anchor their hooves in front of.

“Alright, let’s see what I can do.”

“Move forward so the straps are taut, then slowly pull forward from there.”

Deed walks forward, looks over his withers at the weights, faces forwards, then takes another step. The weights lift up off the floor with absolutely no resistance.

“Okay, two forty is nothing apparently. Let’s go up by about… eighty? You think that’s okay, dad? It’s the smallest increment for the full sized plates, but there is a 40 kg half plate.”

“Definitely. I barely felt it.”

“You’re not using magic are ya?”

“None. I didn’t even have to grab the ground, son. Just basically leaned forward.”

“Okay. Back up and I’ll put another eighty on.”

The pair repeat the cycle again and again and it’s not until Deed is pulling 800kg that he starts to struggle a little bit.

“Okay… so, 800kg you can do… do you think you can go up again?”

“Yeah, that was hard, but just go ahead and toss another 40 on there.”

Cure puts the half plate 40 kg weight on top of the stack. Cure notes that he is lifting a slab of metal that weighs about 80% his own weight with no trouble, even without magic. He does have to use his TK to anchor himself to the floor so he doesn’t fall forwards though.

Deed manages just fine, and it’s when they’re at 920 kg that Deed finally declares that he’s hit his max.

“Damn, dad. That’s kinda boss, actually. Umm… a few ponies are lookin this way. I’m not so sure we wanna do this with magic.”

“How high does the machine go, champ?”

“Two thousand kg.”

“Sweet Celestia. If ya see somepony pullin that lemme know.”

Looking between his dad and the machine, Cure idly notes, “Well… with your magic I bet you could.”

Deed looks over his withers at the colt. “You think?” he asks, surprised.

Turning to face his sire, Cure shrugs, “I honestly don’t know, dad. It wouldn’t absolutely blow my mind if you could do a fair bit more. I don’t think double is unlikely. Triple is the max I would expect.” Cure looks around the gym for a moment. A few ponies, almost all mares, had been checking Deed out, but they’ve basically all gone back to what they were doing.

“If you want… we could try. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea though.”

Deed mulls it over a minute. Shifting from side to side on his hooves, Cure can tell that the stallion really wants to test his limits. With a second check he confirms that nopony is looking their way, so he quickly resets the pin to the very bottom of the stack, removes the half plate, and gets well out of the way.

“It’s set if you wanna try, but for the love of all that is holy go slow, dad, and stop and slowly back up if anything feels off.”

Course decided, Deed steps forward to tighten the harness and the cables.

Cure can almost see the moment his sire starts cycling his magic again. His back straightens and the muscles on his chest, legs, and hips all flex, standing out far more than they do in his normal relaxed posture.

Braced and ready, Deed reaches forward with a foreleg, begins pushing with his back legs, and… slowly pulls himself forward, barely straining at all. With a quirked eyebrow he turns and looks at his son, who’s staring back at the plates with his mouth hanging open. Turning his neck a little more he can see the whole stack sitting just a hoof off the ground. The pull is there, but it's just not enough to unbalance the stallion.

“Huh. I kinda expected that to be a little harder.”

“Dad!” Cure hisses out, “Set that shit down, dude, everypony’s starin.”

Quickly taking a step back, Deed doesn’t account for how much weight he’s dropping. With an enormous BAM noise that echoes all across the gym the dark stallion looks back at the plates, then turns and gives a sheepish smile and a shrug to his son, who’s now doing a double face-hoof.

“Duuude. How long you been liftin, bro?” a green stallion asks, approaching the pair with towel draped over his withers.

“Uhh… this is my first time?” Deed answers, unsure what to say.

“Woah… you do a lot of farm work? You’re shredded, bro.”

“What?” Deed asks, looking over himself. He doesn’t see anything wrong with his coat, so he looks over at his son for an explanation.

“He means you’re ripped, dad. Jacked, swole, etcetera.”

With a big smile and, still wearing the harness, Deed nods to the stallion. “Oh! Well. Thank you! You’re very shredded too, young stallion.”

“Oh my Celestia,” Cure mutters as the owner approaches the machine. Like an angry parent, as soon as he gets close all the other ponies skedaddle and get back to whatever they’re doing, trying not to draw his attention.

“What in Tartarus was that?” Rusty demands as he gets close.

“Umm… I lifted the weight?” Deed answers.

“I saw that, you idiot, how did you lift the whole thing?”

Pointing away from the machine, Deed casually explains, “Well ya see, I pulled thataway.”

“Yeah?”

“And the weights went thataway,” he says, pointing up above the resting place for the stack. Satisfied at his excellent description of the events, Deed smiles broadly at the taller stallion.

“That’s how it normally works, yeah, but how? The only ponies I’ve seen that can move that whole stack are the tall earth ponies that are as big as Her Highness herself.”

“Look, Mister Barbell, I dunno what to say,” Deed says while shrugging. Taking another step forward, the entire stack of weights lifts off the ground while he’s casually standing there talking, “See? I just pull a little bit and they come right up. Maybe somepony changed out the metal ones for wood or somethin.”

Rusty is looking back and forth between the stallion and the nearly two and a quarter tons of weight he’s easily holding off the ground. Scratching at his head for a moment, he waves Deed back towards the machine so he can check it out. Deed backs up again, more gently this time, lowering the stack of weights to the ground.

“Dad we need to go, dam and mom are expecting us. I got the numbers I need, so get outta that thing and let’s go.”

“Are ya sure, sport?”

With wide eyes, Cure motions towards Rusty with his head, then jerks it towards the exit while the owner is inspecting the equipment.

“AH, Oh yeah! Look at the time!” There’s no clocks in the gym, Cure notes.

“Yep, c’mon dad.”

Quickly and quietly, the pair get Deed out of the harness and make their escape while Rusty is bent over the machine inspecting the plates.

Now out the door and quickly trotting towards the shopping area they’re supposed to meet the mares at, Cure looks over to his dad. “I swear, dude, I don’t know why the hay I listen to you sometimes.”

“What?” Deed asks defensively.

“I knew it was a bad idea to try. Why didn’t I say no? I’m the friggin adult here.”

Pouting at his son, Deed hangs his head a little. “Hey… that’s not fair.”

“Well, if the shoe fits.” Looking over to the sad pony face on his sire, Cure rolls his eyes. “Stop yer friggin poutin, it doesn’t work when yer four times as big as me and three times my age. Sorta.” he mutters, shaking his head.

“I just don’t get why I didn’t stop you. Does yer mark mind control ponies or something? Or maybe it just lets you know what to say to get them to listen to ya. That would still be some kind of mind reading ability, though. Maybe it just lowers everypony else’s IQ whenever you start talkin. Meh, whatever, I’m onto you.”

After the gym fiasco, which Cure happily told his moms about, the family sat down and ate a quick lunch before Deed led them to the richer part of town towards the coast. Cure was getting the “you do not belong here” feeling as the houses gradually went from a typical white picket fence single family home to larger and more grandiose estates as they got closer to the water.

Finally coming to a stop, Deed turns towards a house set back a little ways with a wroght iron gate blocking the path up to it with a tall, brick wall surrounding the property and a guard, Cure is guessing, on the other side watching the family. In the center of the gate is an emblem; presumably Brick’s mark. Unsurprisingly, it’s a brick wall. The bricks are five stacks tall. The top, bottom, and middle rows each have three bricks while the second and fourth row have four, offset by half a brick width from the rows above and below.

Deed has a quick conversation with the guard who leans over and looks down a clipboard before opening the gate and waving the family towards the house. The grounds are extremely well kept with a very impressive garden filled with dozens of flowers that Cure couldn’t possibly name. The house itself, if not a legitimate mansion, is damn sure close to being one. It's a lot nicer than any house Cure has lived in in either life.

There's three floors and possibly a basement. There's no ground-level windows, though, so it's hard to tell from the outside. The front of the house has over a dozen windows, several of which have little flower boxes hanging from the front of them.

To the right of the house is a half dozen rows of grape trellis going from just in front of the house down the side towards the back. Several of the vines are hanging heavy, full of grapes; presumably due to be harvested before the frost starts hitting. Cure doesn’t know anything about grape farming, but he assumes that freezing wouldn’t be good for them.

The front door opens as the family approaches, and an offwhite stallion with a brown mane steps out and starts trotting their way. Unlike most ponies his legs fade to a darker brown color towards his hooves. Once he gets close enough he sits on his haunches and throws out his forelegs yelling “YO COUSIN DEED! HOW YA BEEN?”

Eyes wide, Deed quickly trots up to his cousin and almost tackle-hugs him yelling “LUCKY! Long time! How’s the wives?”

“Eh, you know," he says shrugging, "I see y’all are doin pretty good. Yo V, beautiful as ever, honey. Title, right? I think we met at the last reunion. Wow, you are lookin ray-d-ant!” he says, emphasizing every syllable. Poking Deed in the chest he adds, “Looks like you got at least one more on the way, eh, Deed? Congrats, cous!”

“Ah, three actually,” Deed corrects.

“Oh ho! Lookie here mister two-for-one. V! Baby! Congratulations. Long time comin, eh?”

Vines steps up and is wrapped in a big hug from Lucky, then the stallion looks down like he hadn’t noticed Cure the entire time.

“And who’s the big stallion over here? Hey Cure, been a few years. Ya remember yer Uncle Lucky?” Cure is pretty sure that technically, he’s a second cousin, but when in Rome…

Grimacing a bit, Cure shakes his head, “Sorry, Uncle Lucky, I think I must have been like four years old. I can’t say I remember much of the last reunion except fallin asleep with the other foals super early.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Lucky goes over and wraps Title in a hug while agreeing with Cure. “Yeah, sure, that’s okay, young colt. I guess that was just a bit before ya hit five. Summer foal, kinda forgot. Oh well, we got another reunion comin up the year after next, so you’ll get ta meet everypony all over again then.”

Releasing Title, who looked like she was feeling pretty awkward being hugged by some stallion she barely knows, Lucky waves towards the house. “Well come on everypony, grandpa’s waitin and ya know how he is when ya ain’t right on time. Court martial ‘n alla that.” As the family follows Lucky into the house he continues, “Only Grandma Caramel’s here today. Grandmas Vino and Sabre are probably bankruptin grandpa up in Filly right now, hittin them fancy shops up and whatnot.”

“Oh that’s such a shame!” Vines says, “I would love to talk to Grandma Vino about her garden. Well, maybe we can come visit again in the spring.”

“That’d be great!” Looking to Deed he adds, “I’ll tell ya, Deed, marryin a mare that’s good in the garden. Smart stallion, cous.”

“Oh yeah, she saves us a fortune on food. Especially now that Cure’s got us all workin out all the time.”

“Yeah? I thought I felt a bit ‘o muscle under that coat a’yers. Good for you. Grandpa will be thrilled somepony else in the family ain’t a slouch,” he adds snickering.

Walking past the foyer, Cure notes the decorations. The house isn’t over-the-top ritzy, but is very nicely decorated with some impressive paintings of the coast, ocean, and boats. Greek-style columns are spaced out every couple body lengths with fresh flowers or an occasional statuette on them.

Leading the family into a well furnished sitting room, Lucky waves to a few couches. Deed’s grandsire is sitting at a desk in an adjacent office that the family can see through an open set of doors. Lucky trots over to him, leans over, says something Cure can’t make out, and comes back in the room. Brick looks up at the family before refocusing on his papers. Meanwhile the family has all taken a seat on the furniture.

Pony couches are not like human couches. There’s no need for a backrest, so they’re more akin to an elevated cushion. Cure can’t recall from his human memories, but the term chaise lounge feels about right. The closest he’d ever had was one part of a sectional couch that he and Cyndi had bought from some furniture store that was going out of business. That one piece was long enough for him to lay down on, even if his feet would dangle off, and had no arm rests or anything but the back on one of the short sides.

These couches are deeper, allowing a pony to lay width-wise and are more heavily constructed so two or even three earth ponies can be side by side without snapping them in half. Each end does have an armrest, but it's more of a body rest, really, that a pony can use as a pillow if they're laying length-wise or to lean against if they're facing off the side.

There’s three couches in the room and a single-seater, smaller couch that he assumes is Brick’s. Vines and Cure hop up on one couch opposite the smaller one while Deed and Title take the couch closest on their left. Lucky makes himself comfortable to Cure and Vines’ right, across from Deed and Title.

After a few minutes Brick finishes whatever he’s working on and walks around his desk. He’s not any larger than Deed, but he has that “hardass old man” look that reminds Cure of Clint Eastwood around that same age, just bigger and more muscular than the western star ever was. Still, the “do not fuck with this pony” sign might as well have been flashing neon and floating over the light brown stallion as he marched his way into the sitting room.

“Clean Deed. Spreading Vines. Title Search. Cure Wave.” Nodding to each as he says their name and getting a nod in return, he enters the room and climbs on his chair facing the family.

“How’ve you been, Deed? Hear anything from that worthless sire of yers?”

“No sir, not since he took off after Cure was born.”

“Figures. Lucky, we haven’t gotten anything from Jackpot in a while, have we?”

“No, grandpa. Not since he moved northwest.”

Grumbling, Brick looks back to Deed. “So, while I’m delighted to hear from the only other grandson I have that hasn’t moved a few thousand klicks away, I’m assuming this isn’t entirely a social call. Is that sorry excuse for a guard giving you any more problems?”

Wide eyed, Deed’s left speechless, as is everypony else in the family. Looking at the four, Brick shrugs, “What? You think some flankhole threatenin my family isn’t gonna get back to me? No way. Bulwark runs a tight ship, but there ain’t no ship on this coast that’s tight enough I wouldn’t hear about that mess.” Smiling slightly towards the colt he adds, “Good job handlin it, Cure. Always know when to call in the cavalry.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cure says, bewildered by the suddenly far more terrifying grandsire.

“He hasn’t given you any more trouble has he? Tailwind Flare, if I’m not mistaken, or more appropriately,” he chuckles, “Washout. The little prick better learn his place down there in Meadow or next time I’ll have his flanks flyin weather patrol over Stalliongrad.”

“No sir. His family came by a few days ago and apologized for the whole incident. His wife said he was really embarrassed by his behavior.”

“Good. He is an embarrassment. I would have chewed some uppity corporal’s wings off for that kinda shit in my squad.” Scowling at nopony he mutters “fucking pigeons” under his breath. Letting out a sigh, Brick asks, “So. If that fiasco is taken care of, what brings you by today?” Turning to Deed and Title he says, “I know it’s not money. From what I’ve seen your business has been taking off lately.”

“Yes sir,” Deed answers, “Last month was better than any quarter we’ve had since we started. We came by for the family, grandpa. Cure has a special talent that we think could really help everypony out.”

“Oh?” he asks, turning to face Cure. “What can ya do, son? I don’t recognize the mark, but I’m guessing you don’t tell snakes what ponies they can bite.”

“No sir, I can heal.”

Brick freezes on the spot and Lucky’s mouth falls open. Turning to the parents one by one, Brick raises a questioning eyebrow until he gets a nod from each. “Well… that is something. We don’t normally get active special talents like that. Especially like that.” Brick shifts on his chair for a moment in thought. Finally he asks, “So how’s it work?”

“I can detect injury, illness, and some defects like cavities, arthritis, poor eyesight, etcetera. It’s like a combination of the diagnostic spells a unicorn would have.”

“Hmm. That by itself is fantastic, son. So once you find a problem I’m guessing you can correct it?”

“Yes sir. I can also recall the scan perfectly. I have an Illusion enchanted crystal that I can project the scans with too.”

With a glance at the parents Brick smirks, saying “Well no wonder you three look like you’ve just finished Basic. Twice. How long did it take for you to shape up?”

“He got his cutie mark on September 2nd,” Title answers.

“A month?” Lucky asks. “Yer frickin foalin, right?”

“Give ‘em a flex, son,” Deed suggests.

Blasting his magic on full, Cure stands and gives Brick and Lucky the full Rodeo Flex.

“Sweet Celestia, colt. How’s healing get ya in shape like that?” Lucky asks as Cure jumps back up next to his dam.

“He can exercise nonstop,” Brick guesses. “How many klicks ya runnin per day?”

“We were doing up to fifteen daily. We stopped at the gym this morning and dad did a 920 kg draft pull.”

With an impressed whistle both ponies give Deed a respectful look. “My best was 1200 even, back in the day. Not bad for a civvy, son,” Brick says. “As for healing, that’s definitely a service I’d be willing to contract with you for. There’s just one thing we need to do first…”

“Demonstration?” Cure asks.

“Demonstration,” Brick agrees. “One of my soldiers had an unfortunate accident a ways back. He was involved in an altercation with an… unwise griffon while on leave in New Horseleans. He’s got a bad limp now, but he’s one of mine, and we look after our own.” With a smile that promises trouble he adds, “Plus he could flatten a city block if he set his mind to it. You mind if I send for him?”

“If we can trust him, sure. I’ve been trying to keep what I can do kinda quiet until we could meet.”

“Why? Somepony tell you that the nobles would drag ya away?” he asks with a scoff. When nopony answers he looks at the grimaces, then facehooves. “Really? They know better.” His face reddening, he snarls, “We’d skin ‘em alive if those uppity pricks tried taking our foals! They’d thank the stars if we found out before Her Highness. Nopony touches a foal on her watch.”

He shifts on the chair a moment while calming down. “Lucky? Go get Blaster in here. Don’t tell him anything, I don’t want to get his hopes up.”

“You bet,” he says as he hops down and trots out of the room.

“How bad does it drain ya?”

“It can be bad, but I don’t have to do everything in one shot.”

“Hmm.”

“Brick?” a mare’s voice calls from another room.

“Ah Tartarus.”

“Brick? Where are you damnit? The kitchen’s all set up.” she yells.

“I’m in the sitting room!”

A moment later an older, chestnut colored mare rounds the corner and walks in the room. Cure guesses that this is Grandma Caramel, and stands to greet the mare, as does the rest of the family. She has a yellow mane just a little lighter than Vines’, probably faded slightly due to age. Her cutie mark is a wrapped candy of some kind floating in front of what looks like a shortcake.

The mare lights up upon seeing the visitors. “Deed, is that you, sweetie? Oh, Vines, honey! You’re all looking so wonderful! Title! Oh goodness, you must be due in a couple months! And this is Cure, right? Brick says some guard gave you a hard time! How are you doing? Got yerself a special filly yet?”

A round of “Hi Grandma Caramel” choruses through the room.

“Doin great, grandma!”
“Thank you, Grandma. You look like you’re doing well too!”
“Yep, due in January. Deed put two in Vines also.”
“Yeah, grandma, kinda. We’re still young though, so we’ll see.”

“Oh? Vines, is it true?” she asks, wrapping her in a hug. “Did you come just to visit? It’s so good to see everypony, especially this cute young stallion!” she says, releasing Vines and grabbing Cure by both cheeks. Everypony, Brick included, smirks at the colt’s expression.

After a good smooshing she takes a seat on Lucky’s vacated couch. The mare looks expectantly at the family until Cure decides to speak up, “Actually, grandma, we’re here to see if I could help the family with my talent. I’m a healer, grandma. I can help ponies with almost anything.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” she says while clapping.

“I sent Lucky to fetch Arcane Blast. We’re going to see if young Cure here can help him with his leg.”

“That would be fantastic! He’s such a nice stallion." With a tisk she adds, "It’s a shame what happened." Refocusing back on the colt she insists, "So Cure, tell us about your little filly friend.”

“Sure, grandma. She’s a unicorn that I’ve been hanging out with a lot lately. Her brother’s gonna try to join the guard come January when he turns sixteen, so they’re running with us every day so he won’t struggle in basic.”

“Ah, Sgt. Haze’s colt, right? Smart of him,” Brick says approvingly, “How’s he shaping up?”

“Good, sir. I’m sure he’ll have no problem. He’s very committed and he’s lighting fast with his runes too.”

“Excellent. Use ‘em right and a good caster can change an entire battle.”

“Oh enough about that!" Grandma Caramel calls over Brick, waving a hoof dismissively. Turning back to Cure she waves at him. "The filly, Cure. Tell me about her!”

“She’s my age, ma’am, and she’s got a pretty orange coat and a red mane like fire. I tease her by callin her Sunrise, but her name’s Dawn Glow. She’s a real good caster, like her brother, but with her workin to get in shape early I think she’ll end up with a bit more power than he can put out right now.”

“Got yerself a little boomer, don’t ya?” Brick asks with a smile. “Good on ya, son. Just don’t piss her off if you want to keep that tail where it belongs. You know what they say about the fiery ones.”

“Hot and crazy go hoof and hoof?”

Brick stops to consider, then nods in acceptance. “Well… that’s not wrong either I suppose.”

“Brick…” Caramel says warningly with a glare.

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep it clean.” Turning back to Cure he explains, “You got the gist of it, son. The hotter they run, the wilder the fun, but you watch yer flank, or you’ll end up well done,” he rattles off flatly. Facing back to his wife he waves at Cure saying, “See? Not inappropriate at all.”

“Mhmm…” she deadpans back, “I’m sure that’s exactly what you were going to say, too.”

“Close enough,” he mutters as Lucky trots back in the room, followed by a blue coated unicorn with a dark red mane. He looks like he’s a little older than Dawn’s parents; maybe in his early 40s, and has a few visible scars on his forelegs near his hooves. His mark depicts three yellow comets or fireballs in an echelon flying forwards and down slightly.

Arcane Blast is about an inch shorter than Binder is, but he’s clearly spent a lot more time exercising than the orange librarian. He’s not nearly as wide as Deed has gotten, but as far as unicorns go, the stallion seems like he’s towards the upper end of the fitness curve, injured leg or not.

The limp Brick mentioned is quite pronounced. If Cure had to guess offhoof he would assume the injury happened at the same time as the rest of the scars, which put him in mind of defensive wounds a pony would get from a knife fight. That doesn’t strike him as the type of fight that both combatants walk away from with all their parts intact.

Lucky sits down on the floor beside Brick’s chair while Arcance stands, basically, at attention in front of him. “You called, cap?”

“I did. Arcane, I want you to meet my grandson, Clean Deed, his wives Spreading Vines and Title Search, and his son Cure Wave.” Arcane gives a quick greeting to each as they’re pointed to by Brick.

“Everypony, this is Arcane Blast; the best caster I had the pleasure to serve with. He was the top artillery unicorn in the division until some feather duster tried to jump him after a drunken bet.” With a predatory smile he looks to Arcane and asks, “The squaker got what he had coming, didn’t he, Blaster?”

“You bet, cap. He ain’t gettin off the ground ever again. Nice ta meet ya, everypony. You treat me like family, ya hear? You need a hoof, you say the word. The captain’s been like a second father ta me.” Looking back to Brick he asks, “So what can I do for ya, cap?”

“The colt, Arcane,” he answers, waving at Cure. “I don’t want you getting your hopes up, but they say he’s got a special talent to heal. I was hoping you would let him take a look at your leg. It comes with a scanning spell, though, like the medics used, so, you know…”

“He’ll be gettin a good look at everythin, will he? Ya sure yer alright with that, son? Nopony wants to see alla this mess,” he says, waving at himself.

“The first pony he used it on was his sire, he’ll be fine,” Title says, causing a room full of cringes.

“My mom’s right, sir. I’m gonna be a healer. I’ll see way worse than anything you can imagine, I’m sure, and I keep it professional when I’m on the job.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Arcane sits down and holds a hoof out to Cure, “Have at it, kiddo. Can’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Cure jumps down from the couch, trots over to, and sits down in front of the stallion, then grabs his hoof. Activating his mark shows that the legs were not the only place that got a little too friendly with something sharp. The stallion has some decent scarring hidden under his coat on his chest as well, it’s just not as obvious until he sits down. His limp is from a severed ligament in his knee along with some cartilage damage and a floating chip of bone behind the patella.

“Dude… doesn’t that hurt? Why didn’t they fix yer knee with surgery?”

“Doc said it was too f... messed up. I coulda had the surgery, still woulda limped though. What’s the point?” With a slight snarl he adds, “That twat bird ended my career over a fifty bit bet. I shoulda taken his balls and his wings.” With a grateful nod to Brick he adds, “Cap took me in, though, so no complaints.”

“You don’t let talent like yours get away, Arcane. I’ve said it a million times. Those idiots at command shoulda promoted you and had you teaching the next generation to sling plasma like you can.”

With a proud smile Arcane shrugs, “Guess they lack vision, cap. What can ya do?”

“Well, I can fix your knee. It won’t take more than about ten minutes or so. You’ve got a few other minor issues I can fix up while I’m at it, too, if ya want. Your vision’s degraded a bit, so has your hearing… I’m guessing from the explosions in your spells?”

Beaming a big smile, Arcane just nods.

“What about the scars? Keep or fix?”

“Eh, don’t worry bout those, son. The mares love ‘em anyhow,” he says while preening.

“Alright, you may wanna close your eyes a second, I’ll do them first but it may be a bit disorienting havin the world shift on ya. Just sit still or, better yet, hop up on the couch. I don’t want that leg movin while I’m working on it anyhow.”

The unicorn climbs up on the couch next to Grandma Caramel, sitting so they’re touching sides. The mare doesn’t hesitate to give the smaller unicorn a friendly nuzzle. Cure follows and lays down right beside him. Giving the unicorn the full treatment, minus the scar removal, takes almost ten minutes.

There wasn't really much to be done; Cure cleaned up the joint a bit, but the only healing there was fusing the bone back together and repairing the ruined cartilage. If he had to guess he figures the griffon must have jumped on top of the unicorn and tried to thrash him with his talons.

After getting a better look he realizes the scars are too wide to be a knife, and there’s less visible, smaller ones, on either side of where the center talon must have found purchase. The knee was probably hurt during the tackle itself, as there’s no obvious cutting injury on the skin over the area and Cure can’t think of a way that a swipe would cause the damage.

Once the bone and cartilage are fixed up he steals a little fat from the unicorn to repair the ligament and sets everything in place. Hearing, eyes, knee, and other onsetting arthritis issues addressed, he declares the treatment done. Arcane steps off the couch to see how it went and Grandma Caramel is quick to reach over and pull Cure into her side with a loving nuzzle, leaving a leg draped over his withers.

“Sweet Celestia, colt. I woulda killed ta have ya fifteen years ago.” Blinking and moving his ears around while looking about, Arcane is clearly happy with all the changes. He does a few four-legged push ups, trots around the room for a moment, then comes back and wraps Cure in a half-hug, reaching around Grandma Caramel's leg. “Son you just say the word, anything you need, you got it.” Dropping back down, he glances at the parents and adds, “That means any of ya. You need a horn, I’m yer unicorn, ya got it?”

“Wonderful. Truly wonderful,” Brick claps his forehooves. “I’ve heard of some master healers at the Assembly that can clean up some minor wounds, but when we looked into it for Arcane we couldn’t find anypony capable of doing that. Damned impressive, colt. Caramel, dear?”

“Hmm?”

“Cure’s probably a bit tired after that, how bout you take him and his dam for a treat. The four of us,” he indicates Deed, Title, and Lucky, “are gonna talk business. Lucky, have a seat,” he says, waving to the couch Cure and Caramel are about to vacate.

As she stands up she gives Cure a nudge. “Sure thing, sweetie. Don’t be long, it’s a Saturday after all. Come along, Vines, dear.”

“I’ll stick with the colt unless ya need me, boss. Could use a snack myself after alla that.”

Brick waves Arcane away and the four ponies leave him, Lucky, Deed and Title behind as they follow Grandma Caramel to the kitchen.

The kitchen itself is roughly the size of the main level of the family’s home and has a four-pony table already set up with a variety of pastries. Caramel waves the two to the table while Arcane floats a booster for Cure from a closet that was in the hallway.

With a hoof on what appears to be an actual refrigerator Caramel calls over. “Anypony want anything to drink? We have orange, apple, cranberry, or grapefruit juice and milk. Or water, of course.”

“Milk, please,” Cure answers.
“Just water, please, grandma.”

“I’m fine, ma’am. Actually, lemme get that for ya,” Arcane says, waving to a seat for the mare.

“Oh, thank you Arcane, dear. Such a good stallion.” Caramel sits across from Cure, next to Vines, and the two start chatting about foals or something. Cure doesn’t really pay attention and is instead focused on the arrangement of donuts, crepes, and several fruit, custard, and/or cream filled confections lined up in front of him.

Setting the drinks on the table, Arcane joins the three on Cure’s left. “Have at it, colt. Ya gotta sugar up after heavy spellwork, ya know?”

“Yep. A snack and a nap usually get me right back to full." Cure stuffs a few treats in his mouth. After washing it down with some milk he looks to Arcane Blast. "Say, mister?”

“Just call me Blaster, kiddo, none 'a that mister stuff.”

“Okay. Do you ever go to a firing range to practice? My filly friend and her brother go sometimes but I haven’t had a chance to go with ‘em yet.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Gotta stay in practice, ya know? Ya stop hittin the runes right if ya don’t, then somethin bad can happen.”

“I’m startin to get into enchanting a bit. I was wonderin if you have any good stunning spells that aren’t restricted that you could share.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Stunning and sleep spells aren’t that kind of restricted. It’s only when you get inta the wide area stuff that you start runnin inta problems. Any slinger worth their salt can stun and shield and stuff. I’ll send some good stuff home with ya, can’t have anypony messin with the healer after all. Never did much enchantin myself, figured I could just fire away, yanno?”

“Yeah, no doubt. That would be great, Blaster. Thanks!”

The two fall into silence while Cure stuffs his face. Blaster helps himself as well, and after a few minutes he starts telling Cure about some of his time in the service before he was discharged. Frankly, it sounds pretty boring for the most part.

The squad he was with was, like grandpa Brick of course, stationed towards the south of Equestria. The ponies more-or-less worked a 32 hour week, with different squads taking over patrols north of the Appaloosa Mountains, or standing guard in the city or at Dodge as needed. Every two months they would get a week of leave to head off and do whatever.

Overall it seemed pretty chill, but Cure supposes that’s normal when a nation’s been at peace for over a hundred years and has a nuclear deterrent wearing the crown.

Apparently the squad was on leave in New Horseleans when “the incident” happened, but Blaster apparently had some trauma and didn’t really talk about what happened; just that they had a wild evening of drinking and gambling before shit got crazy and a harmless bet escalated too far.

“Cure, sweetie?” Vines calls, pulling Cure out of a bit of a sugar stupor. “Do you want to take a nap, honey? You look like you’re a little sleepy.”

“They’ve had enough time to chat. Let’s take them some treats and let this one rest a bit. All that sugar’s probably given him the sleepies. Blaster, would you be a dear and clean up their plates?”

“You bet, grandma.”

Carrying a platter on her back, Caramel leads the two back to the sitting room where it seems like the four ponies have come to some kind of agreement. She sets the tray on a table between Deed and Brick. Title immediately moseys over and picks a few things while Vines, Caramel, and Cure climb on a couch with him in the middle. Surrounded by warm bodies on both sides and, with a belly full of milk and sugar, he leans into Vines and promptly falls asleep.

The gentle rocking motion slowly brings Cure back to wakefulness. He looks around, noting they’re still in Baltimare, but it looks like they’re almost to the station. Feeling his son moving on his withers, Deed looks back and says, “Welcome back, champ. How ya feelin?”

“Eh, not bad. Wanna let me down? I can walk.”

Deed squats down low enough for Cure to easily hop off and the family continues on their way.

“So, what’d I miss?”

“Not a lot,” Title says, “We worked out a deal with Brick while you were stuffin yer face. He has a few associates that have this or that injury they’ll send your way. We didn’t ask for any money, but he insisted that what yer doin is valuable, so if there’s anything you want or need don’t hesitate to ask. He offered…” she trails off with a grimace.

“A lot,” Deed finishes for her. “He’s settin up a trust for three quarters of the money to go into that you can have when yer fifteen, but even the 25% is generous. Enough that I kinda felt bad, we kept insisting you just wanted to help the family, but he says yer family and he’s gotta look after you too.”

I’m not totally convinced that dude isn’t a mobster. The guard, the gate, the house, the grounds, the art… even the name. It all just give me that “mobster” vibe. Whatever, I’ll be healing ponies, not doin drive-bys, so who cares. Nopony touches the white mage anyhow.

“Did Blaster send anything home with ya?”

“Yep, got yerself a lil spellbook in my bag,” he says, smiling at Title who grumbles under her breath.

With a curious look to his dam she explains, “They bet how fast you’d ask about it. Your sire said within the first three questions. That was number three even if we count the first one.”

“HA! C’mon, mom, really?”

“I figured you’d ask a question or two about the money.”

“Seriously? How much interest have I shown in money versus magic?”

Instead of answering she just hangs her head.

“You just stink at gambling, don’t you?”

“Shattap, brat.”

“What were the stakes? Not another lousy massage, I assume.”

That gets a glare over her withers at the colt. He just smiles back. “Don’t give me those looks, I’ve given you all a massage basically every weekend, so you got no reason to shoot me dirty looks.”

Title tilts her head back and forth in thought and, after reaching the conclusion he’s right, looks forwards again while walking. “I hafta make breakfast tomorrow, and I can’t burn it. It has to be good,” she finishes with a snort.

“And not eat it all before anypony else gets any…” Deed quietly mumbles, getting a whack on his flank from her tail.

The family quiets as they approach the train station. Cure and his moms sit on a bench while Deed gets tickets. About fifteen minutes later the train pulls in and everypony piles on to head home.

Everypony is barely through the door before Cure has his horn in hoof and is getting situated with the book that Blaster sent home. Curious what all is in there, Title lays mostly on top of him and is looking over his head at the spells. It’s obvious that the stallion is a military trained battlemage; the first few pages detail out a number of spells that are restricted without giving their diagrams, but still give insight into how they work.

Cure looks at the description of chain Lightning; a great example. He knows from video games that chain lightning is an electric blasting spell that jumps from one target to another. Cure figures that due to the lack of video games in this time period, the description about how it jumps and how dangerous it can be in a crowded battlefield wouldn’t be common knowledge for ponies.

Lightning bolt, a much lower level spell, is not restricted though, mainly because it’s an aimed, single target attack similar to the typical “magic bolt” attack that any unicorn can use just by blasting magic up and out of their horn. Not being restricted does not, in any way, mean that it can be used except in defense; just that knowing the spell alone is not a crime in itself.

Of course, it’s not like anypony is going around reading ponies’ minds, so knowing a restricted spell, while technically illegal, only becomes an issue if you do something with it, but that's the case with any harmful spell anyhow.

Basically any multi-target or area of effect spell that is harmful appears on the restricted list, especially ones that are not directed like Poison Spray, which is exactly what the name implies. That’s a cantrip level spell, but is essentially the same as shooting a weak nerve gas out of a horn; something the crown does not approve of.

Between the spell book from Baltimare, which is due back in ten days, and Blaster’s book, Cure now has access to a wide variety of “low/mid level” spells. Included are magic missile, the aforementioned lightning bolt, fire bolt, light beam, frost ray, ice dart, stun, repair, stone shape, several shields and armor spells, alarm, web, slow fall, and of course, prestidigitation. Several of those would wear him out after just a few shots at anything but the lowest power level, sadly.

The library book also had some higher level spells, but Cure doesn’t expect to be able to cast transmutation or conjuration without passing out anytime soon unless he’s working on a very small item.

With the problem of selection addressed, Cure now faces another issue.

“How the hell am I going to memorize all this crap?”

“I could help ya with that,” Title smugly whispers from on top of Cure.

“What? How? You know some kinda mnemonic trick or somethin?”

“Uhh... not sure what that means, but I do know a trick. I gotta ask, though," she says, smiling down on Cure from above. "What’s in it for me?”

“Uhh… access to anything I make?”

“Meh, already got that.”

“More massages?”

“Those are nice, but no… I’m thinkin something else.”

“You want me to take over making breakfast for you, don’t you?”

“Yep! Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

“You realize I would help you whenever you ask either way, right?”

“Yeah, I know, I just wanna prove that I’m smarter than you, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Go ahead and say it and I’ll tell you how you can memorize any spell easily after just one look.”

“Fine, ya know what? If you can tell me that then you are smarter than me.”

“Saaaay it!” she teases in a sing-song voice.

“Title Search is the smartest pony I’ve ever met. She’s definitely smarter than me, even if she is a big bully cannibal meanie.”

“Good enough. It’s real simple, Cure. Scan the spell.”

Scrunching up his snout in thought he waves at the books, “I can’t scan nonorganic things. Only living tissue.”

“Like a piece of wood?” she asks, the smile coming through in her voice alone.

“...”

“There we go. I saw them ears perk up. Finally got it, huh?”

Leaping out from under her, Cure turns around and wraps his forelegs around his mom in a hug and gives her a big wet kiss on her cheek. “Ya know what, credit where it’s due. You are smarter than me. Sometimes. Not when gambling, though.” Releasing the mare and running out the door, he calls “Be right back!” over his withers.

Cure runs out to the maple tree in a dead sprint, drawing a look from his dam who’s poking around in the garden. “Mom had an idea!” he shouts while putting his hooves on the tree. With a quick activation of his mark he has the tree shed a thin layer of still-living wood from the trunk about as tall and wide as he is, then quickly repairs the bark over the area.

He runs back in the house, holding it on his back like a cape and slides to a stop in front of the pink mare. With the magic missile spell open, he lays the sheet of wood out flat, then uses his talent to replicate the spell’s diagram on the wood by darkening the pigmentation like written ink. With a double check for accuracy, he verifies it’s correct, then scans it with his talent.

“This is cheating so hard. You’re brilliant, mom!”

“I know,” she says while huffing on a hoof and wiping it on her chest. “I really am.”

With his tail wagging like a happy puppy, Cure goes through the diagrams of every spell in both books. He doesn’t need it for his talent, but he figures it may make it easier to project the diagram with an illusion spell, so he also adds a label and small description of each spell at the top of the page before locking them in.

“This is so totally unfair. I can’t believe I never thought of it! Now I can encode the spells into crystals and you all can charge them up for me, too. Friggin badass. So, mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Several of the spells I scanned aren’t offensive. There’s a number of utility spells too. Repair, conjuration, transmutation, shape stone, and of course the cleaning spells that I need to upgrade for dam to prestidigitation. Start thinkin of things around the house that could be improved because I can write the crystal or, if it’s too high level for that, the scroll, you all can power it, and we can start making major improvements where needed.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“How would you like a real refrigerator like Grandma Caramel had in her kitchen? Well, I could make one with some wood shaping, transmutation, and a prestidigitation crystal chilling it, just like I have the stovetop heating instead of having to burn wood.”

“That would be nice. We’ll hafta talk to yer dam and sire. Vines spends more time in the house than any of us, so she’ll know best what we need. Speaking of yer sire, shouldn’t he be getting ready to go?”

“OH! Wow, I lost track of time there, didn’t I?”

“Ya got a tad absorbed, yeah. Well we better go find em. Take yer horn off when you run outside this time, genius.”

“Whoops. No wonder dam looked at me funny.”

Deed had gone upstairs to take a quick nap and was ready to go within a few minutes of Cure and Title finding him passed out in bed. Title stayed behind, but the two stallions were making their way to Emerald Aura and Gleaming Haze’s house at a steady canter to meet with them about Cure’s ability to help either or both of them out at their jobs.

“So,” Cure starts as the two leave the park and enter town, “the meeting today went better than I dared hope, even if it did start out kinda terrifying.”

“It did. I was not expectin that, I hafta admit.”

“I guess putting a couple decades into the guard gets ya connections,” Cure notes with a shrug. "He clearly had some kinda briefing prepared after he got your letter. Either that or he's been keepin tabs on ya. I have my doubts it's the latter, though, since he didn't seem to know about anything that wouldn't generate paperwork, like our runs."

“Sounds that way. It also sounds like Tailwind may have gotten off easy.”

“Yeah…”

“Son, when ya go to heal anypony he sends over… just be respectful, okay? I got some weird vibes there, ya know?”

“Oh, definitely. I know names aren’t everything, but both his real name and what he goes by have connotations from human literature.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. Brick Top is a crime lord in one story, and Vita Clarion is damned close to a crime lord’s name in another story. It’s also pretty unusual for a pony name, honestly.”

“Yeah, he hates the name, that’s why he changed it to Brick when he got his cutie mark.”

“Still… implications unpleasant.”

“Just don’t do anything to piss ‘em off. He’s bein ridiculously generous towards ya. Then again, you’re almost certainly the best healer on the planet, so… yeah. That’s almost as good as bein able to call on the princess herself. Better, if yer sick I suppose.”

“I’m pretty sure she can heal, dad.”

“Ya think?”

“I do. Remember, she’s attached to the sun. I don’t know what all concepts that touches on, but purification, life, healing… they’re all associated with the sun. I’d be shocked if she doesn’t have a few healing spells she can toss around, but given that the military doesn’t distribute them they’re probably horribly inefficient. Or they require calling upon her domain, which others can’t do.”

“Wanna swing by Lemon’s on the way? It’s just over there.” Deed asks, waving towards the train station.

“Nah, I do need to go over to her and Amy’s house and let them know the good news, though.”

“Yer dam already did. She stopped by while ya were at school the day after we got back.”

“Oh. Why didn’t she tell me?”

Shrugging, Deed says, “Dunno. Forgot maybe? We should really get you set up with the clinic first anyhow. She may not want to put too much on ya at once.”

“I guess, but those cosmetic things are usually really fast, easy, and profitable. I could probably make more money off of that than you and mom could just because there’s so little competition. Maybe you should start lookin for a bigger house if dam and mom are gonna be pumpin out foals left and right.” With a tease in his voice he adds, “Especially if yer gonna end up with two more wives to take care of.”

Deed’s ears turn a little red and he can’t help but smile a little.

“Oh ho! So I wasn’t far off, huh?”

“We’ve talked about it. Yer moms and I. If they approach us it’ll probably happen. I guess we will need a bigger house then, though.”

“Well I’d be thrilled to have Cherry and Lotus officially be my little sisters, so if you all wanted my opinion on it I say go ahead. It may be a little weird calling them each mom, though, given how old I am now.”

“I don’t think they’d mind Amy and Lemon, son. They understand you’re older than most foals in a joining like that.”

“Yeah. Well, here we are…” Cure says while approaching the house. He knocks and waits a moment before Dawn opens it and waves them both in.

“Hey Cure, hi Mr. Deed. Come on in and take a seat. I’ll go get my parents.”

The two walk into the living room where Solar is already waiting for them. Like Brick, the unicorns have actual sofas instead of just cushions on the floor, something Cure suddenly is conscious of that he hadn’t really thought of before. Cure gives Solar a quick hoof bump and joins his sire on one of the couches which are arranged in a not-quite-enclosed triangle with the opening facing the fireplace.

Taking the initiative, Solar asks, “How’d your meeting go earlier?”

“Good. Dad’s grandsire was like… scarily well informed. He knew all about the whole Tailwind thing, he knows yer sire, he knows Sgt. Bulwark. Despite that, it went almost as well as I think it possibly could have. Conveniently, he had a unicorn… I dunno? Guard? What would you call Blaster, dad?”

“Uhh, I believe the term he used was associate.”

“Well, whatever he was, he used to be in Grandpa Brick’s unit, got hurt, was discharged, and ended up workin for him ever since. No clue what he does, but he’s an old school battlemage; somepony I don’t think you wanna give a reason to be mad at ya. He sent home a spellbook with some safe-to-know spells and mom came up with a way for me to cheat and memorize them all.”

“Yeah… that sounds like your ridiculous luck. How’s that work?”

“Ya didn’t mention that to me, son. What’d yer mom come up with?”

“Well, my scans are perfect copies of whatever I use it on, right?”

“Yeah.”
“Uh huh.”

“So I just got a thin piece of bark offa the tree outside and altered the pigments to match the diagrams. Dad? Crystal?”

“Here.”

Cure projects spell after spell directly from his memory, with a label and spell description at the top and the runic diagram underneath.

“So unfair…”

“Oh please, like yer not benefiting from all this. You’re gonna be in better shape than any of those older unicorns and yer still growing. By the time you’re seventeen or so you’ll be an absolute beast.”

Cure had abandoned almost all subtlety with the siblings since he had revealed the true extent of his abilities almost three weeks prior. They still ran at least twice a week, but he basically got the same treatment that the parents had, with his consent of course. The result wasn’t as drastic as with his parents, but within another month both would be within the top percent or two of what a unicorn could ever hope to achieve at their respective ages.

Both still had the disadvantage of not being earth ponies when it came to physical strength and endurance, but no other unicorn in their age groups could possibly come close to their level of physical fitness, and it was very unlikely that any other unicorn could cast like they can now, though Dawn was still missing out on the structural enhancements that showed up on her sire’s scanning spells.

“True, I certainly can’t complain. Two more months, dude. I can’t believe I’m ready with so much time to spare. I really was worried I would wash out and have to wait a year.”

Just as Solar is finishing up Emerald Aura, Gleaming Haze, and Dawn enter the room. Dawn, of course, hops up to lean against Cure’s right side closest to Solar while Emerald and Haze take the sofa opposite of Deed and the two foals.

With greetings exchanged Cure starts the conversation. “First off, thank you both for meeting with us. The reason I had asked Dawn and Solar to speak to you is that I’ve recently gotten some good news and felt I was secure enough to finally start telling ponies not in the know about some of the things I can do.”

Emerald doesn’t allow him time to give any kind of explanation. “What do you mean by that?”

Choosing to ignore the rudeness, Cure opts to extend an olive branch as he had with Wind Shear. “Before I explain, I owe you an apology, Mrs. Aura. I took umbrage with the fact that when meeting you the first time you took the opportunity to interrogate the, presumably, first colt your daughter brought around. I admit, I had a little fun at your expense as a result and for that I do apologize.”

“My feelings for Dawn are real though.” Cure gives Dawn an affectionate nuzzle, something she clearly wasn’t expecting. “I recognize that we’re young and life could have other plans for us, but for now I consider Dawn my very best friend and, in time, possibly more if she feels the same way.”

“Well said, son,” Deed says with a shoulder nudge.

“A parent’s duty is to watch out for their foal, Cure. Someday when you have children, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“I do understand, Mrs. Aura, I just don’t agree that the correct way to watch out for a filly is to immediately question an interested colt about his parents’ financial success, especially when he’s eight years old. Twelve? Fifteen? Yes, that’s an appropriate time to start taking a potential relationship more seriously. I feel like eight is awfully young for that.”

Emerald makes a face as if she’s eaten a particularly bitter lemon. Before she has enough time to come up with a response her husband puts a hoof on her side to get her attention. With a small shake of his head he stops her from continuing the disagreement.

“My wife is just protective of her only daughter, Cure. Perhaps she was a little too enthusiastic with that, but she just wants what’s best for her.”

“If we ended up together I assure you that Dawn would never want for anything. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to speak to both of you. My intention is to offer my services to either the local clinic or perhaps the hospital in Baltimare and the guard as needed.”

“Services? To what? Help patients exercise?” Emerald snidely asks, getting another bump and a scowl from Haze.

“I told you that my special talent is to help ponies get healthy. I never told you how I go about doing so. I can heal ponies, Mrs. Aura. That is a big part of my special talent.”

“Heal?” Haze asks. “Like… actual healing magic?”

Rather than answering directly, Cure tilts his head in their son’s direction while asking, “When’s the last time Solar needed to ice his knees?”

Haze looks at Solar and thinks for a second. “Now that you mention it… your knees aren’t hurting, son? You’ve been running an awful lot more and I haven’t seen you icing them.”

“They haven’t been for weeks. Cure healed them the first few days we ran.” Waving a hoof at the younger colt he continues, “He’s why I’m in as good of shape as I am. He ran us ten to fifteen km every night and healed us up to keep us movin. Look at this,” he says, standing and flexing his pecs.

Haze grimaces at the distances, then takes a good look at his son, daughter, the colt, and his sire. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that every one of them is in fantastic physical condition. “Huh… no wonder you’re both eating so much lately.”

“I was under the impression that healing magic is almost impossible. There’s no one “heal” spell. Especially…” she trails off as Solar speaks up.

“He can heal, dam,” he insists as he lays back down. “I’ve seen it a dozen times now. Trust me, he can do everything he says he can. You’re being way too hard on him because he teased you a little bit when you first met. Be fair; that’s what you always tell us to do.”

Dawn, who’s been quiet the whole time, turns her big doe eyes on her dam and quietly says, “I like Cure. He’s smart and funny and helpful. Is it because he’s not a unicorn?”

Emerald grimaces when everypony looks at her. “Well…” she starts before being interrupted by her son.

“Is that why you didn’t like Honey Sweet?” Solar asks with a scowl, “I really liked her, dam!”

“Now, son,” Haze starts before being interrupted by Deed.

“I… think maybe we should go, son.”

“Yeah. Good talk, everypony. Solar, Dawn. I hope you still come by tomorrow. We should be home all day, right dad?”

“Yep, whenever you want to drop in, feel free.”

Dawn walks Deed and Cure out to the front of the house. With his hearing he can pick up scraps of the argument that’s started inside, but there’s nothing being said he’s wanting to hear.

The poor filly looks like she doesn’t know what to do, so Cure sits on his haunches and pulls her into a side hug, resting his chin just above her eyes with his soft cheek beside her horn, gently brushing against it. Deed steps away to give them a moment of privacy, sitting on his haunches by the street with his back to them, blocking anypony else’s view.

“Geez, first Crosswind’s sire, now your dam. Maybe I’m just horrible at meeting my friends’ parents. I swear I only teased her a little! I’m sorry, Sunrise.”

Dawn leans into the hug and slowly turns her head to rub her horn along his cheek, careful not to stab him with the tip. “No, this isn’t your fault. I don’t think the teasing even mattered. You’re right; she shouldn’t have acted like that.”

“You gonna be okay? Wanna come with me to Lemon’s or go for a sundae?”

Dawn lets out a deep sigh. “That sounds a lot better than going back in there, but no… not tonight. I gotta make sure my brother doesn’t get too worked up.”

Giving her a soft squeeze, Cure lets go with another nuzzle. “I understand. Stay strong, Dawn. If it gets ugly you can both come over. I don’t think it’ll go that far, but just know that you can if ya need to.”

“Yeah… thanks, Cure. I’m sorry about my dam.” She turns and walks to the house, calling “I’ll see you tomorrow” over her withers. Cure hears yelling when the door opens, then it’s abruptly cut off when it closes again with Dawn inside.

Ears sagging, Cure walks down to join his sire, then leans heavily against the dark stallion’s side. “I don’t think I’m very good with the mares, pa. Maybe I oughta stick to magic.”

Deed drapes a foreleg around his son, scrunching him into his side. “Magic’s a whole lot less confusin than mares, son.” Deed lets out a deep sigh before continuing. “Give it time. If it’s meant to be…” he says, trailing off with a waved hoof.

“Wise words, pa,” he says, nuzzling his sire’s side. “Wise words.”

Author's Note

Ever been at someone's house when an in-family fight breaks out? Fun times.

So we finally have the long-anticipated Brick meeting, Cure finds out why Emerald was so quick to question him, and Deed acting like Deed prevents him from getting the numbers he's been dying to get. Poor Cure! Only went one for three today. Oh well, Title's cheat more than makes up for it if ya ask me.

The next two chapters will take place over the next two days, then we get to our first holiday about a week and a half later.

Regardless, that'll be the last chapter of the story for probably two weeks or so. 31 through 33 are mostly ready, I just need to do some tweaking here and there, but unless I find some spare time to really get in and go over them it'll most likely be the 29th before 31 comes out.

If I don't see everyone before then, have a Happy Thanksgiving or whatever country-appropriate holiday happens between now & then.