Sunday, May 10th, 909 AB (the next morning)

“Sir?”

Brick lowers his paper to look over the top at the servant, giving the stallion his undivided attention. The serving staff know he doesn’t like to be disturbed before he finishes his breakfast, so whatever prompted the interruption must be important. Either that or somepony hasn’t been paying attention.

“What is it, Corner?”

“Somepony to see you, sir. I… uhh, I’m sorry to interrupt but -”

“It’s Sunday morning!” Sabre scolds. “What’s so damned important this early on a weekend? Tell them to come back tomorrow.”

Measured Corner cringes, looking to Brick for help. No surprise there; Brick’s earned his reputation as a hardflank, but any married stallion knows it’s the mares you have to really watch out for. Of the three, Sabre has always been the more aggressive one by far.

“Honeybuns,” he gently calls, “it must be important or he wouldn’t have bothered us, right Corner?”

The chastised stallion nods vigorously, avoiding eye contact with the silver mare.

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Caramel gently encourages him. “Who is it?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m pretty sure it’s…. Uhh, well, him, sir,” he answers, motioning to the newspaper, “ma’am’s,” he quickly adds, ducking his head.

Furrowing his brow, Brick turns the paper around to the front page. Another article about the new princeling with the same picture again. Because more speculation and hearsay is super useful. At least the princess seems to be having quite the field day leading these reporters around by their snouts. He shows the picture to the wives, all of whom erupt in a round of gasps, then guesses as to the purpose of the visit.

“Shift’s at the gate this mornin, sir. Says the colt wasn’t there, then just… was,” Corner continues with a shrug. “Everypony on the street’s just walkin past ‘em like he ain’t, though. He insisted it’s an informal visit, sir. He was quite clear there’s no need for anything special. He… uhh… he asked if he could come in and have a glass of juice or maybe a donut, actually.”

Unable to hide the disbelief from his voice, Brick asks in a deadpan, “The alicorn that’s going to be crowned at the Summer Sun Celebration is outside asking if he can come in and have … breakfast?”

“Yes sir.”

He meets each of his wives’ eyes, all of whom have similar looks of disbelief. “Juice and a donut?” Vino repeats back.

“But… we only have some croissants,” Caramel laments, looking over the selection of rolls and jellies on the table. “Maybe I should scramble another egg?”

Corner shrugs, “Can’t say I know, ma’am. I ain’t seen nothin what says the kinda breakfast he likes, ma’am.”

“That’s a good point, Corner. You know how some ponies are with eggs,” Brick reminds them. “At the very least, I suppose we can spare a glass of juice and a croissant for his highness on this fine Sunday morning. Escort him and… is he alone?”

“He is, sir,” Corner confirms.

“Very well, please escort him in.”

“Yes sir. Right away, sir.” Corner turns on the spot, rushing out through the foyer towards the front door, leaving the husband and three wives sitting in stunned silence for a moment.

“Should we… move to the sitting room?” Caramel asks.

Sabre instantly dismisses the idea. “He wants breakfast, let him eat at the table. If he wanted a formal meeting he could have sent word ahead.”

Motioning towards the fridge, Brick asks Vino, “You have any fresh grape juice in there, love?”

“Of course not!” she snaps. “It’s way too early in the season for grape juice!”

He holds his hooves up in surrender and ducks his head in a conciliatory bow. “Just thought I’d ask…”

“I think we have orange and apple,” Caramel says, hopping up to dig in the refrigerator. She soon emerges with a carton of orange juice in hoof, opening it to give it a quick sniff test. “It’s still good!” she triumphantly calls.

“Bring the bottle of bubbly back too, Sweets,” Vino calls. “It’s feeling like that kind of day.”

Caramel grabs the sparkling wine, orange juice, and a glass. Carrying everything under her right foreleg, she trots back to the table. Vino doesn’t hesitate to make herself a day starter.

Just a moment after Vino finishes making her drink, Corner returns, leading an absurdly muscular light brown alicorn into the room. All eyes widen in shock at the colt, not only because he’s actually right there in their kitchen, but also because of the unique gold and brown coloration of his mane, tail, and wings.

Gold guards adorn his pasterns and a matching, emerald jeweled peytral hangs around his neck. His coat glistens with a golden sparkle that wasn’t visible in the pictures. The more angular wings and longer horn for his stature banish any lingering doubt from the family that a genuine alicorn is here to visit.

Corner stops just inside the kitchen to Brick’s left and, upon glancing back to the colt and getting a small nod of encouragement, snaps back forward and stands at attention. “Announcing his soon-to-be royal highness, Prince Serpentus!” He furrows his brow in thought and looks back to ask, “Is that right? I thought, you know, before you’re crowned, maybe another title is better?”

“How the hay would I know? I didn’t go to prince school. Princess Celestia didn’t give me any informational brochures or whatever. Besides, it’s not like I picked this stuff up at the flea market; she hoofed it all over herself, so close enough, ya know?”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense,” he admits in a slow nod.

“You’re kinda ruining the whole thing, dude. Wanna maybe hit it from the top, minus the whole, ‘Is this right?’ part?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, sir!” Corner turns back towards the table and takes a deep breath, once again taking a formal, rigid stance. Brick and the three mares share another round of incredulous looks before turning back to face the entrance. “Announcing his-”

“Ya know what?” the colt interrupts, waving a hoof from side to side, “I think they got the gist of it by now, buddy.”

Corner looks back over this withers. “You sure? I can do the thing if ya want.”

“Nah. It’s all good. Thanks, but at this point it’s just getting kinda weird.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, no! It’s not your fault, dude,” he insists in a conciliatory tone. He scrunches his snout in thought and admits, “I’m probably not even supposed ta be all gussied up like this anyhow, at least not till after the ‘ol S S C. Don’t need ta go ‘round confusin ponies and whatnot, amirite?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ll tell ya what, next time I come to visit I’ll actually have my crown and we’ll do the whole setup again all official-like. Maybe we can get ya a little trumpet or something and a big fancy hat. Can’t be presentin highnesses without a fancy hat, after all, right?”

“I don’t play the trumpet,” Corner admits, hanging his head in shame he adds, “or anything else.”

That causes the colt to pause in thought for a beat. “Well… there’s always time to learn! Ladies love a stallion that knows a musical instrument.”

“Yeah?”

Brick looks at his wives again and waves a hoof, mouthing “what the fuck?” and getting three shrugs in response.

“You bet, champ. The trumpet’s a good one too. Great for the lungs and I bet some of them lip exercises ya hafta work on are good for other applications too, if ya know what I mean,” he says, waggling his brows.

Corner doesn’t seem to connect the dots; he just stares in confusion at the short colt.

“Don’t worry, it’ll come to ya. Probably at three in the morning.” The eye roll is audible from the tone alone.

“Oh I hate when that happens!”

“Right? It’s like, ‘Thanks, brain, I didn’t need another four hours of sleep. That idea finally clicking is totally worth being tired all day!’”

Corner nods, enthusiastically agreeing with the colt. “Yeah, why can’t that happen at three in the afternoon?!”

“One of life’s mysteries, my stallion.”

The two share a commiserating sigh before Corner turns back to the room and finds four sets of eyes staring at him in annoyance. “I should go. Nice meeting you, sir!” he calls, rushing back out towards the front.

“Later dude!” the colt shouts, watching as the stallion disappears out the front of the house. He turns back to the curious faces and motions to his horn. “Do you mind if I cast a privacy spell?”

“Not at all, your highness,” Caramel responds. The colt all but sighs at the title. Brick can sympathize; even being addressed as ‘sir’ took some getting used to. He can’t fathom going from no title at all to, essentially, the highest in the land.

The room outside their little bubble blurs and the sound of birdsong abruptly cuts off. The mares look around slightly bewildered, but Brick recognizes the spell from his days in the Guard.

“Ugh, finally,” the colt mumbles. He clears his throat and smiles broadly. He waves a wing in greeting and, in a much more familiar voice, calls out, “’Mornin grandpa, grandma’s! You’ll never guess what I did!”

A beat of silence passes. The sharp intakes of air and one slightly less surprised look are the initial response; Brick being the one to break the silence. “I had wondered…” he confesses. The statement causes the grandmothers to whip their heads in his direction, giving the stallion a combination of annoyed and curious stares.

“Yeah, I figured Uncle Lucky said something to ya. Given the timing of the incident and whatnot I’m pretty sure they put two ‘n two together as soon as they saw the papers.” He glances back out into the hall and points a wing at the closet. “Mind if I grab a booster?” he asks. At the “be my guest” motion Cure slides open the hall closet, floats out the booster, shuts the door, and sets it on Caramel’s right between her and Brick.

“Are your parents not with you?” Caramel asks as the four watch on in shock at the ease with which he’s using his new abilities. He no more than hops up on the seat before Caramel has a glass of orange juice poured, a plate with a croissant set in front of him, and a foreleg wrapped around him, snuggling the colt against her side. He laps up the physical attention, careful to give his great granddam a loving nuzzle without poking her with his horn.

“Nah, I told ‘em where I was going and I can keep in communication with them by using the Sending spell.”

“But… somepony just tried to foalnap you!” she cries.

“Yeah, and I took all twenty six of ‘em out by myself. Easily. Don’t worry, granddam,” he says, nuzzling her again, “I’m way more prepared for trouble than you could ever imagine.”

“If you say so…” she slowly concedes, unwilling to further push the issue.

“How?” Brick asks.

“Airborne and intravenous sedatives. I can directly transmute living material inside another creature.”

Brick’s eyes widen before it dawns on him, “Ah… you would have to in order to be able to heal, I’m guessing.”

“Exactly. Healing is just how I use my talent anyhow. I’m a full blown biomanipulator, grandpa, and I don’t even know what all impact this,” he waves his right wing, “will have on my talent. The princess said it’ll be a while before I start developing my abilities as an alicorn.”

Sabre, finally out of patience, waves a hoof at the colt nearly shouting, “What the hay did you do to yourself, Cure?!”

“Oh it wasn’t intentional, grandma. It turns out that if you do enough crazy shit -” Caramel shoots him a weak glare while giving him a firm squeeze, “err, sorry granddam. If you do enough crazy stuff with your talent to help ponies or, I dunno, basically ‘take it to the next level’ while doing objectively good things, apparently Harmony itself is all like, ‘Not bad, colt, have some extra body parts on the house,’ or something,” he explains, finishing with an unsure shrug.

“Not that it was completely free, mind you. I had ten grand worth’a crystals on me that went kaboom when I exploded. They didn’t even leave the dust behind!” He tilts his head in thought and adds, “To be fair, it’s not like Cure salsa painted the area either, thank the stars. A good trade, overall, I guess. Nopony wants ta spend all morning cleaning up colt chunks blasted all over the place. I’d just had breakfast too, so it woulda been a real mess there.”

As he’s talking he uses his horn to spread some strawberry jelly on his croissant, then, once done with his blunt statement, hums in delight while taking a big bite. He levitates the orange juice over, grabs it in his hoof, and takes a long draw before setting it down and licking his lips, wiggling back and forth in his seat happily as the grandparents all look on a little queasy.

He points a hoof at Vino’s glass and asks, “Mimosa?” All four glance at the drink in question before giving him looks of confusion. “OJ and bubbly, right? That’s what I thought those were called.”

“Mimosa,” Vino repeats, tasting the word. “I like it! It sounds exotic.”

“You should try it with some rum, cherry, and pineapple juice mixed in, grandma. That right there’s the breakfast ‘a champions if ya ask me,” he suggests, smacking his lips at the idea.

“That does sound good,” she agrees. Turning to her left she asks her wife, “Do we already have a shopping list started somewhere?”

Sabre shrugs, looking somewhat at a loss at the strange direction the conversation went in.

Vino huffs, rolling her eyes at the silver mare. “Never mind. I’ll send somepony out to fetch some later.”

“Forget the damn drink!” Sabre shouts, turning back to the colt. “What do you mean you exploded?” She pauses and gives him another up-down look and adds, “You seem fine to me.”

“Twas but a flesh wound,” he answers in a high pitched, nasally voice, snickering at some private joke. “I don’t think I really exploded, but that’s what it looked like to my parents and all my friends. A big, white flash and something like a thunder crack.

“Close enough, I guess. The boss lady had just pulled a prank on me, settin me up to get cr… err, get hit by a bunch of pie tins filled with whipped cream. Apparently I blasted a bunch back at her in the process,” he finishes, chuckling in amusement.

“And she wasn’t upset?” she asks.

Eyebrows hiked, he asks, “Have ya ever met her?”

“No,” she confesses. “She was at a few Officers’ Balls we attended, but I didn’t speak to her myself.”

“Supposedly,” Brick interjects, “she enjoys a good prank as much as anypony. My interactions with her were always strictly professional,” he explains.

“She’s not like you’d expect from some noble. She’s, for all intents and purposes, just like anypony else. Just older and more powerful. And taller. Believe me, if anything she was ecstatic that there’s another alicorn now. You’ll get ta meet her if ya want; that’s actually one of the reasons I came here today. You got plans for the Celebration? I wanted to invite everypony if y’all are interested.”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Brick answers, looking at his wives for confirmation.

Vino leans to her left towards Sabre, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “Weren’t the Clovers throwing a party at their estate this year?”

“Supposedly,” she answers with a shrug. “I heard their youngest granddaughter is finally pregnant and they wanted to celebrate.”

Caramel gives Cure another soft squeeze and overrules any previous plans the family might have had. “We would be absolutely thrilled if we could attend your coronation, Cure.” Scowling at her wives she curtly adds, “The Clovers can make do without us,” before softening her tone and looking down at him, “if you’ll have us.”

“Sweet! I’ll get in touch with the rail company and see if we can get a few cars this time. One was pretty crowded with me, my folks, and all the other foals. I’ll be traveling to the capital a week or so ahead of time to help with the births but there’s no reason for everypony else to go early.”

Brick waves off the concern, shaking his head at the suggestion. “Don’t you worry about a thing, son. I’ll make arrangements for all of us. Or I’ll check with Countess Evergreen. She’ll certainly be attending; presumably her office would coordinate logistics with the princess’ ponies, so your transportation, as well as anypony you invite, should be taken care of.”

Cure looks completely baffled at the suggestion. “The princess didn’t tell me all that. Should I reach out to the mayor of Golden Hills instead? I guess I figured I would have to arrange my own transport and stuff.” He pauses in thought, looking up at nothing, “Ya know, sayin it out loud… that sounds kinda dumb.”

“No, Cure,” Sabre cuts in. “Royal matters are not tended to by barons. Baroness Wheatfield would be reaching beyond her station, even if you do live in her city. Besides, the rail line to the capital originates here.”

“Exactly,” Brick agrees. “I would expect somepony from either Countess Evergreen’s office or, maybe even Marquis Merryland to be in contact to organize everything.”

“I’ve heard the name, but I don’t know anything else about the marquis,” he says with a shrug.

“He’s responsible for overseeing Baltimare, Fillydelphia, and Hollow Shades,” Sabre explains.

“Bitsburg and Sire’s Hollow too,” Brick adds. “Fillydelphia is where he lives, though. Do you know if the princess has told anypony who you are?”

“Only Captain Stance, as far as I know. My identity is being kept under wraps until I’m older.”

“A wise choice. Are you okay with the mayor knowing we’re related?”

“Sure, as long as she’s made aware that, per the princess, that information is not to be shared beyond ponies that need to know. I think the pony runnin the city probably counts. Ugh… I’m probably going to need somepony that knows who I really am just to take messages for ‘Prince Serpentus’ or whatever.”

“I have ponies I can trust to be that filter, Cure. I’ll coordinate everything if you’re okay with that. Just let me know. As for arranging the travel, I’m betting the princess has already dispatched instruction to… well, one of them. Sometimes it just takes a moment for the cogs to start turning.”

Brick pauses in thought and shakes his head, taking a deep breath and blowing out a sigh. “My great grandson… an alicorn prince. I should have seen this coming when you started deaging ponies.”

“We’re all very proud of you, Cure,” his granddam insists, snuggling the colt into her side again. The other three are quick to agree, making him internally cringe. It’s nice to hear, but at the same time the constant praise and thanks makes him uncomfortable.

“Thanks everypony. This is just the start, though. There’s lots more to do.”

“Well said, Cure. We’ll need to see if lodging is available. Even if transportation is being addressed I’m sure everything in the city is booked up.”

“I could reach out to Prince Blueblood, maybe?” Cure suggests drawing curious looks from the group.

“Never met him,” Brick responds. “I’ve heard the stories, though. Supposedly his guard detail is where you end up when you p…” Caramel scowls at the stallion, “tick off Captain Shield enough.”

“He didn’t make the best impression, at least initially,” Cure admits. “He heard the rumors of an alicorn colt running around the castle, so he showed up with his son, wife, and two daughters while the princess was working with me on magic stuff.”

“A coronation and a wedding?” Vino teases, earning a hard look from Caramel.

“Afraid not, grandma. He became decidedly less interested when I pointed out I was an earth pony. It’s not like my foals will be alicorns; they’ll be whatever tribe their dam is. Regardless, when he showed up I mentioned maybe buying a second house in the city next year. His wife mentioned they have several spare houses in the city, many of which they never use.”

“Guest homes?” Brick asks.

“Yep. He offered to house me and my family while we’re in town. I’ll probably be stayin at the palace while I’m there helpin with the births, but I bet you could hang out there. I’m not sure if that would count as owing him a favor or whatever, but I can deal with that.”

“That sounds wonderful, honey!” Caramel cheers, hugging the colt to her side again. “Just let us know if that won’t work out. We could always stay the night in Detrot; it’s not a long train ride to Canterlot from there and I’m sure they’ll have extra trains going with all the ponies attending.”

“Okay. I’ll check with the princess when I meet with her tonight. She may just let y’all have a room at the castle. She’s got dozens of ‘em.” The mention of meeting her tonight gets surprised looks from everypony until he clarifies. “It’s an alicorn thing. She won’t actually be here. The plan is for me to talk to her every weekend. She probably has some updates on the whole foalnapping thing anyhow.”

“Hrn,” Brick grunts in obvious agitation. “You let me know anything you hear, son. I’d like a run down on that whole situation before you leave if you have time.”

“Sure thing, grandpa. I wanted to talk to you about something slightly related to that, actually.”

“What is it, son? Got a suspect?” Cure can’t help but catch the hint of malice that flashes across the stallion’s face. The furrowed brow, involuntary flexing of the pectorals, and setting of the jaw on both he and Grandma Sabre promise violence as thoroughly as a loudly racked shotgun. Even Grandma Vino pauses mid-sip to listen intently and his granddam hugs him all the tighter.

“No, unfortunately. None that aren’t in her majesty’s custody, at least.” The tension, brief as it was, ebbs back as Cure continues, “With my talent I’m probably about as dangerous as a pony can be, but inevitability at some point, somehow, I’ll come across something that magic won’t work on.”

“I see. That’s possible; a sharp spear is a lot more effective on a dragon than most spells.”

“Exactly. One of the Wonderbolt performances was an aerial melee demonstration. I was wondering if your security teams have a trainer for that or if you could recommend one for me and the pegasi fillies I hang out with.”

“Oh goodness,” Caramel mumbles, “a unicorn and now pegasi? How many little fillies are chasing you, Cure?”

“Somewhere between five and seven. Two are maybes, honestly. One is more likely than the other, so probably six.”

All three grandmothers gush excitedly over the news while Brick quietly prays, “Maker help him,” under his breath. Focusing back on the question, he explains, “Our trainer teaches primarily defensive group tactics and de-escalation. Security work involved less fighting than most ponies assume. I can get some names for competent pegasi defense instructors, though. If it’s something you enjoy, maybe I can reach out to an old friend of mine.”

“Couldn’t you just ask the princess to have a Guard trainer?” Sabre asks. “They certainly have plenty down at Fort Meadow.”

“A good point,” Brick agrees. “Colonel Muster would likely leap at the opportunity to have one of her captains train the new prince. In the meantime maybe see if there’s any classes locally. I’m pretty sure they do one for pegasi at least.”

“Huh… I didn’t even think about that. Maybe I’ll check into that and see if I can take a few classes in Canterlot eventually. Wind Shear, the less likely maybe, wanted to take something too. I think her younger sister will want in on it also, so it would be nice to find something to do with them until next year when I go to CSGU.”

“You’re moving to Canterlot?” Vino asks.

“The tentative plan, for now, is for me to take classes, supplement that with lessons from the princess, and fly home on the weekends. I can fly higher, faster, and without stopping compared to any pegasus, so it’s a much quicker trip than you’d think.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Brick mumbles. “You may need a specialized trainer to get the most out of it. Pegasi will train for you to fight like a pegasus,” he says, reaching over to prod Cure’s wing. “Your flight mechanics are different, not to mention how strong you will be compared to them. The princess herself may be about the only pony that knows how to fight in the air like an alicorn, or take full advantage of those when you’re on the ground.”

“True, but she strikes me as much more of a caster than a brawler.”

“Me too,” the stallion agrees. “It may be up to you to find a style that takes advantage of both.”

“Another thing to ask the boss about,” he sighs. “Oh well. So, do you all have about an hour or so free? The whole coronation thing isn’t the only reason I came. I was thinking maybe you all would want to get the new and improved deaging treatment.”

“New and improved treatment?” Sabre asks. “Did you figure out the real thing?”

“Yep. It turns out alicorns are a tad more magically powerful than an earth pony. Who’da thunk it, right?”

“Howdy, boss,” Cure greets as the princess seemingly emerges from a cloudbank.

“Good evening, Cure.” She makes her way closer and lays on her barrel, him copying the position a moment later. “Before anything else, please do not tease me about bugs in my bed ever again.”

“Bugs in your bed?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. “What the hay are you talking about?”

“You said not to let the bed bugs bite when last we parted. I was concerned that perhaps you were pulling some kind of prank.”

“Oh! No, that’s just a saying. It means sleep well. I think,” he offers with a shrug.

“One I have not heard before,” she explains. “Needless to say, my bed was thoroughly examined.”

A barked “HA!” escapes his lips before he manages to catch himself. Smiling at the scowling mare he quickly apologizes. “My bad, princess. I may pull a prank here and there, but I don’t see me ever doin somethin like that. There is a parasitic bug called a bed bug, but I didn’t see any in Canterlot.”

“Good,” she nods approvingly. “I have fantastic news.”

“Oh? Did Green Slip… slip up?”

Celestia pinches her eyes shut and lets out a disappointed sigh. Cure waits eagerly with a growing smile, lightly snickering at her expression far more than the joke itself. “Horrible puns aside, yes.

“He had his attorney reach out to an associate when he learned he would be released. The friend brought him enough money to flee the city despite the conditions of his release stipulating he was not allowed to. He wasted no time making his way to the train station, unaware he was being followed.”

“Really? Awesome! He went straight to ‘em then?”

“Not exactly. My fears of him eluding pursuers were well founded. If your scent marker was not so effective he very well may have. Fortunately, despite his best efforts, he was followed by Lt. Spear to the company headquarters in Detrot. Upon his arrival he began arguing with the receptionist, then was nearly thrown out by security.

“At first the lieutenant thought perhaps he detected her and led her on a false trail, but the mare in charge of their security showed up and escorted him to a conference room. Moments later he was joined by several of the company executives. As he had violated the terms of his release and was observed entering the building, no warrant was needed to conduct a raid. They were still in the conference room when Guard units arrived.”

“Wow. I hadn’t even considered that. Did you plan that out?”

“I would like to say yes, but I did not. Fortune smiled upon us when he left the city. We would be remiss if we failed to capitalize on such convenient circumstances. I would take credit for the foresight to issue Lt. Spear a royal commission, but that’s just something you do when you are sending somepony across typical jurisdictional lines. That granted her authority over any guard units she may have needed to commandeer to conduct a successful operation.”

“Still, good call, boss. You keep this up and I’m totally pushing for a six percent raise instead of just four.”

“Well I’m afraid the news isn’t all good, so perhaps hold off until we’re done before you commit too much.”

“Oh… kay.” Cure takes a good look at the princess. With such good news he had expected her to be more enthusiastic, but it was delivered more like a doctor giving a prognosis.

She continues, “One of the executives arrived while guards were removing copies of the company’s financial records. She allegedly was opposed to doing anything about you from the start. According to her, she stated such when the information of your existence was first brought up during a meeting in December. As a result she was excluded from future discussions, including the one where hiring Green Slip’s crew was proposed.

“She suspected the others were moving forward without keeping her informed so she kept copies of any evidence she had up to that point. When nothing happened for several months she assumed they let the matter drop.

“She was quite eager to share everything she had saved, little as it may have been, in order to exonerate herself. One item she saved is a copy of the letter where somepony reached out to them and, apparently, several other potential buyers regarding a pony that would, ‘put them out of business.’”

“So this pony… she? He?” at her nod he continues, “he sent letters to companies to… what? Try to arrange a meeting?”

“Yes. He hoofwrote them himself. He even took them to the post office in pony. His behavior, overall, was quite amateurish. It is a wonder not a single one of the recipients hoofed the letters over to their local Guard commander. Or, given their actions after, simply foalnapped him to extract the information. I can only assume most dismissed the proposition as ridiculous. The contents of the correspondence would not have moved many to action, but those few who responded…”

“Came after me.”

“At least a couple did, yes. We still do not know who stole your trees, but it was likely the other company that responded to his letter. He insists he had no contact with the zebras and only a few sales, so we’re still not sure who reached out to them, if anypony did. It is possible they determined you to be a threat purely based off of the healing occurring in Baltimare and from witnessing your capabilities at your own business.”

“So he sold to the ones that hired Green Slip and the other that sent the thief?”

“Presumably. We have no way of knowing. He did not keep records of who bought the information. He told them about your trees, told them of your work with the local guard unit, and gave your name in exchange for a paltry sum.”

“Like… five, ten grand?”

“Far less than that, total. Which is likely why they chose to simply pay what he requested.”

“Seriously?! How much?”

“Between the two sales, thirteen hundred bits.”

Cure throws his forehooves in the air and yells, “Come on! Thirteen hundred bits?! That’s less than we paid for our new furniture! I probably would have paid him several times that amount as a reward for warning me!”

“Funny you should mention furniture. He used the money to remodel his den and buy a billiards table,” she offers with a shrug.

“What a prick! I don't know why, but I think I would feel better if he got like… I dunno, a few grand from it, at least.”

“I believe Corporal Strike was correct; your definition of a lot of money is quite a bit different than most. Regardless, he clearly put less value on your family’s safety than you do,” she dryly remarks.

“I guess. So this dude’s in it up to his ears, I’m guessing?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. He will face the same punishment as Green Slip and the others. Whatever form that takes will be for the judge to decide. Again, they are all lucky that no harm came to anypony. If you had been forced to defend yourself more violently then they would have been held responsible for any casualties, even ones you inflicted upon them.”

“Yeah, they’re really lucky I didn’t call Arcane down on them. I’m not sure the train would have survived, though.”

“Indeed. Artillery battlemages are great on a battlefield. They need different training to be effective in close quarters, otherwise collateral damage is a significant concern.”

“Will I need to testify? I’m worried they may ask how I did what I did.”

“No. The statement you gave to myself and my officers is more than adequate. The redacted version can serve as your testimony. Corporal Strike can act as a witness and as the arresting guard as well, though he will be able to decline answering anything considered confidential. The judge can request access but I will only grant it should there be a good argument why he or she needs to know something not in the redacted version, which I do not anticipate.”

“Eh, fair. I’m guessing judges should know how to treat confidential material.”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Besides, if the judge finds out their target is the new alicorn then, if anything, I would assume that would probably make things worse for them.”

“I’m not so sure. Judges are, after all, supposed to remain as impartial as possible. It’s possible, but ideally any victim, regardless of tribe or even if they are not a pony, should expect the same treatment under the law. There are some ponies such as nobles and royals who, if targeted, will result in additional charges, but the presiding judge is still expected to conduct themselves professionally.”

“That's fair, I guess. If that’s really how it all works then you should be proud of the system you’ve set up.”

“I am.” The mare frowns as she says, “And here is the part where I must apologize to you, Cure.”

Tilting his head in confusion, Cure regards the princess. “For what?”

“For my part, little as it may be, in the entire affair.”

A look of realization crosses his face. “It was that officer, wasn’t it? No wonder you weren’t happier about delivering such good news.”

“Inadvertently and indirectly, yes,” she answers with a nod. Scowling, she adds, “One of my own is ultimately responsible, and in the most disappointing and foolish way possible.”

“How?”

“The officer became slightly inebriated while meeting with the relative I had previously mentioned. In public. At a restaurant.”

“And let it slip that a colt out there is going to hurt their business.”

“Yes. Their conversation was decidedly less private than they likely expected. Your antiviral tree, along with the weekly training sessions with Sgt. Bulwark’s squad were mentioned. The stallion that sent the letters overheard her, then later observed you headed to Base Carol. After seeing you he was able to determine your identity. Apparently it was not difficult, given you operate your business under your real name.”

“So your officer got drunk, blabbed about me and my trees, and this jerk just happened to be there, overheard their conversation, tracked me down, and got the bright idea to sell my info to any pharmaceutical company that would listen?”

Celestia takes a deep breath and sighs while nodding. “A single inappropriate conversation nearly cost you everything. Your life, your family, your ascension… all the lives that will be better because of your continued well-being. All jeopardized by a fool meeting with her sister getting inebriated on cheap wine. I truthfully do not know how much was consumed, nor does it ultimately matter. I cannot begin to adequately apologize for the conduct of my officer, Cure.”

Scoffing, he waves the issue away. “Did you give them the wine?”

“In a way. At least some of it was purchased with money that came from my coffers.”

“Change your procedures then. Remove identifying information from reports for anypony that doesn’t need to know.”

A beat passes. Celestia slightly wilts.

“The officer needed to know for some reason.”

She gives a small nod.

“It’s somepony in Baltimare.”

She answers the statement with another nod.

“Then they made the very poor choice to drink and disclose confidential… it was confidential, right?”

“Not exactly confidential, no. Restricted, but that’s not the same. At the time of the disclosure your information was available to anypony at or above the rank of sergeant in the Baltimare region. Initially there was no reason to limit its distribution. Now only Captain Stance herself has the authority to approve anypony viewing your file, and every individual that does so is recorded.”

“Her lieutenant doesn’t?”

Celestia’s wings sag more at the question.

“It was her lieutenant, wasn’t it?”

“It… was.”

“Wow. The freaking second in command of the entire city is responsible for almost getting an alicorn colt foalnapped and, likely, murdered. That’s quite the accomplishment to have on your resume. And yet, the only thing she’s guilty of… she, right?”

“Yes. And your line of thought is correct; the most serious offense that can be charged, given the circumstances at the time, is conduct unbecoming an officer.”

“What’s the penalty for that?”

“If found guilty? Dismissal and potentially six months imprisonment, at most.”

Cure waits for her to continue. She just stares at him.

“That’s it?”

“Yes. That is the maximum penalty, given the circumstances. As nopony actually suffered any harm the options for prosecution are severely limited.”

“That’s cow manure! Her idiocy could have gotten me killed!”

“And what would you have me do to the mare? It’s only due to the broad scope of the charge that she faces more than a formal reprimand. In all likelihood that is what the disciplinary board will recommend anyhow. She has served for fifteen years without incident until now.”

“She disclosed my information to somepony that stood to gain from my death. You said it yourself; aiding and abetting.”

“And yet there is no indication that the sister’s employer was even informed of the conversation. The mare nearly fainted in worry when they showed up at her door to question her. Recall, if you will, to be charged with a crime one must expect or should have expected the result of their actions to result in a crime. The seller’s actions meet that criteria. Hers do not.

“Another hurdle to prosecution would be the fact that you, yourself, told every family member of all your friends the same thing she shared. Granted you did so months later, but you also disclosed far more in the way of details.”

“That was a private party! And it was my information to disclose!”

“It may have been, but it took place in a public restaurant. With no security and in a location where anypony could have overheard everything you said.”

“But…” he trails off, trying to think of an argument and coming up empty.

Celestia continues despite his interruption. “If anypony had been seriously harmed as a result of her actions then she could have faced involuntary mareslaughter charges. I certainly prefer this outcome, but given that no actual harm was done…” she trails off in a shrug. “I know it is little comfort, but as a result of the charge, even if it goes nowhere, the lieutenant’s career is, essentially, over. This will be in her file no matter what and she will have to bear the shame of her mistake for the rest of her life.”

“My heart weeps for her, princess, truly. I could have died, but she’s, basically, being told ‘naughty, naughty!’ Fair trade.”

“I understand your frustration, Cure. Truly, I do. I know I am asking a lot from you, but please try not to fixate on this. Instead, look at the positives here. The zebras are no longer a threat to you, we have determined who hired the mercenaries, we have the information broker in custody, and we know how your identity was leaked in the first place.

“Aside from your missing trees, everything has been resolved. If any further action is taken against you, not only would they face typical charges, but also potentially high treason.”

Cure releases a sigh, begrudgingly nodding in agreement. “I… will move on from this. I would ask that the lieutenant be kept as far away from me as possible. I won’t seek vengeance, but I can’t promise I wouldn’t do something regrettable if she were right in front of me. At least for now.”

“That is fair. As I said, she is being reassigned. As little comfort as it may be, she expressed immense regret for her part in this.”

“I… I don’t want to sound like I’m angry with you, but… I don’t want to hear any more about her. She can just go away. Forever, hopefully.”

“I understand. I know you are upset. I have had to deliver unpleasant news many, many times. You are taking this far better than I suspect many would.”

“Well what am I supposed to do? Demand her blood? Scream and start throwing things?” He waves around at the empty space of the astral plane. “There ain’t much ta toss around in here, boss.”

“It has been my experience that many take their anger out on the messenger,” she calmly explains.

“Yeah,” he argues back, “and exactly how many ponies have cussed you out and tossed ya outta their houses?”

“You would be amazed. Hundreds, possibly thousands. I try not to think back to those days often. There were some battles early on where less survived than did not. Always making it through with, as far as they could see, few or no injuries… many a widowed spouse threw far more than insults when I delivered bad news.”

The response instantly dumps water over any simmering anger the colt has. “Damn. Well… you sure know how to take the wind outta my sails, lady.”

“I’m sorry, Cure. Did you… want to be angry with me?”

Sighing, Cure shakes his head no. He stands, walks over to the princess, nuzzles into her chest, rears up, and wraps his forelegs around her neck in a hug, pressing his neck against the left side of hers.

“Help,” she calmly calls to nopony in a flat tone, “He’s trying to strangle me.”

“It’s going to be a really slow death, boss. Feel free to beg for mercy.” He pauses a beat. “Ya know, whenever.”

“Certainly,” she agrees, wrapping her left wing behind his back to pull him tighter. “Here, let me help speed things along.”

“I’ve heard about ponies that are inta that kinda stuff, ya weirdo. That ain’t my kink, FYI.”

“Cure,” she sighs. “I do not want or need to hear about any kinks you may or may not have. You are ruining a perfectly good hug.”

“I bet that would get me more than six months in the slammer,” he lightly grumbles.

“As well it should. Ruining hugs is a severe crime, young colt. Between your attempted regicide and misdeeds at the zoo I am beginning to detect a budding criminal’s pattern.” Celestia notes the colt minutely tenses at the mention of the zoo. “Unusual magic was detected and a blue colt, green and pink mares, and a dark stallion were seen leaving just as guard units arrived. It did not take a master sleuth to piece that one together.”

“You can’t prove nothin!” he quietly exclaims.

“A magical imprint was detected in the spiders at the scene. I had the analysis removed from the file, but I wonder who that signature would belong to.”

“Ah. Well.” He pauses for a moment. “Shit.”

“Mmhmm. Community service would be the normal punishment. Perhaps a fine. Given that you started volunteering shortly thereafter,” she trails off with a shrug. “Are there any other… mischievous hijinks I need to be aware of?”

“Nothin there’s a report for,” he immediately replies. Withering under her patient stare, he answers, “No. I think that’s the only time I had yer guards called on me, but there’s a silver pegasus filly I need to apologize to in regards to that. Dark blue mane, wing cutie mark. I don’t suppose her name is in the report?”

“It is. I would give you her information, but disclosing the contents of Guard documents is a serious offense. I need this job, Cure. I can’t afford to get tossed in prison for six months and it’s been a long time since I’ve tried my hoof at farming.” Cure leans away and meets her teasing gaze with a scowl. “Too soon?” she asks, looking slightly abashed.

“Maybe a little,” he answers with a slow nod.

“Evening Whisp. Sgt. Bulwark can provide you with her address. Just note, that’s W-H-I-S-P, not the typical spelling.”

“Alright. Thanks, boss. I’ll be sure to make it right before the ceremony.”

“Please do.”

Cure releases her from the hug, sliding down her chest until he’s curled between her forelegs as she folds her wing back. “It may be best to not cover that up, princess. Maybe instead of hiding my magic signature just put a note in that the culprit is a foal and that they performed community service after approaching the crown.”

She hums in thought before nodding. “That is not a bad idea. I will get it taken care of.”

“Good deal. So, moving on from all that fun stuff,” he says, getting a scoff from the princess, “I need to know if there’s already plans in motion regarding logistics for my coronation. I’m lookin at forty, fifty ponies if my friends, their families, and my family are all coming.

“I’ll have to check with them to find out, but that’s a lot of ponies to move, potentially. Grandpa Brick said you probably have already sent something to the mayor of Baltimare, but nopony has reached out to me yet.”

“Notice was sent to both Marquis Merryland and to Countess Evergreen. If you do not hear from either before the end of the week then let me know.”

“Sure. Just an FYI, Grandpa Brick has offered to serve as a point of contact for Prince Serpentus. He knows I’m trying to lay low for now. I do need some kind of public ‘send mail here’ address, I suppose.”

“I was going to have everything sent here to the castle to be filtered first, then delivered to Countess Evergreen’s offices in Baltimare. It was one of the things I wanted to bring up with you tonight.”

“I’ll let grandpa know. He’ll probably have somepony go pick it up from her office. Am I already getting fan mail?”

“We have received several inquiries as to whether you are currently searching for a prospective mate.”

“Geez, already?”

“Indeed. Over a dozen just from within the capital before the end of the week.”

“Damn. Can’t say I blame them, though. If they’re under the impression my foals will be alicorns I could see why. Having a bunch of unaging grandfoals is a heck of a way to secure your legacy.”

“Exactly. Regardless, we are filtering those out, but the rest can be sent on for you and your grandsire to review.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, princess. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t gotten any studding contract offers.” The statement causes the mare to freeze for the tiniest fraction of a second. Cure’s head whips up to meet her gaze with a slowly widening smile. “How much?”

“No.”

“Duh. I’m just curious.”

“Cure Wave!”

“You have to tell me. I checked. Interfering with studding contract delivery is a crime.”

“Not when it’s for a foal!”

“Actually, I don’t think there was an age requirement for that part. Granted the contract can’t be…” he smirks, waggling his brows and deepening his voice before breathily saying, “fulfilled,” he has to stop mid-sentence to laugh at the disturbed cringe she gives.

Celestia lifts her right foreleg and drops it on him, smushing from his withers, up his neck, and down his face, curling her fetlock around his horn. She leaves it there for several seconds, closing her eyes and letting out a deep sigh while the colt cackles in glee underneath her. “I may have preferred remaining ignorant of your true nature,” she flatly comments.

“So how much? Seriously, I’m just curious.”

“Fine!” she huffs. In a dismissive tone she answers, “The offer was only for two hundred anyhow.”

“No it waaaaaassn’t,” he immediately counters in a sing-song.

She slowly looks down at the colt, moving her leg out of the way to meet his eyes. “Are you calling your princess a liar, Cure?” she nearly accuses.

“Nope!” he exclaims, popping the p. Smiling broadly he leans to his right and pokes at her chin with his left wing primaries. “You’re doing what I would do. What I always do. Telling the truth in a way that’s obscuring the real truth. It was for two hundred grand, wasn’t it?”

“Damnit,” she grumbles, turning to look away.

“Jeez, that’s more than I make in a whole quarter. Who the hay has that much cash to throw around?”

“Many wealthy families. Unfortunately for you, the contract requires the conceived foal to be an alicorn.”

“Ah. Well that ain’t happenin. At least, not a real alicorn.” Not unless you’re the one issuing it, he thinks but wisely does not say. “Besides, that kinda changes the situation; two hundred grand for an alicorn foal seems like a bargain instead.”

“I suspect the goal is to have a foal by you regardless of its tribe. It is not a terribly subtle attempt. That, as far as we know, your foals will be the same tribe as their dam has already been theorized aloud. It is, after all, how it normally works.”

“Yeah, and unless some metaphysical weirdness happens that’s what I would expect as well. I almost kind of wonder if an alicorn foal, assuming it could be conceived, would harm its dam.”

“By… placing too much strain on her body?”

“Not her physical body. I could ensure she would live through that. I mean whatever metaphysical drain would happen. I don’t know if research has been done on that, but one would assume whatever spark either comes from the dam or maybe, from the initial… uhh… joining,” he finishes, pantomiming the act by pressing his forehooves together.

“It is the latter,” she answers. “Significant research was done, as a matter of fact.” More softly she explains, “I funded much of it myself.”

The statement stabs Cure right in the feels, as it takes a conscious act to force his ears not to wilt in empathy for the struggles the mare has gone through. Cognizant of his emotions, she carries on. “It is believed that this is why foals of married, devoted parents tend to have better health and, initially, magical strength.

“If your ‘Colt Trees’ are successful, initial results of which seem very promising, then the overall health and wellness of future generations should be better than we’ve ever seen. Reducing the need for hired studs and increasing the number of happily married parents will make a huge difference.”

“I bet. They’re testing those already?”

“Absolutely, Cure. The Origin, Blood, and Antiviral trees you’ve created will all each have a significant impact, but none of them hold a candle to those. I know you have not had the opportunity to meet her, but Director Storm reassigned her top analysts and research doctors to that project the very day after you departed. I would not be surprised if she now has your picture hanging on her office wall.

“It is way too early to say conclusively, but initial estimates put the likelihood of conceiving a colt somewhere between seventy and ninety-eight percent depending on which combination of treatments are used. By the way, all of your previously anonymous contributions are being credited to your Prince Serpentus identity, now that an alternative to ‘Anonymous’ or your real name is available.”

“Heh. Anonymous,” he says snickering. “That sounds good, boss. I’m sure that’ll head off whatever detractors pop up. I know you’ve probably already gotten at least a few ponies asking why you’re ennobling some nopony from nowhere.”

She reluctantly nods, reassuring him at the same time. “Naturally. There will always be somepony that disagrees with something in any crowd, of course, no matter what, it seems.”

“Right. I bet you could fly down out of the clouds hoofing ponies a check for a million bits and, eventually, you’d find somepony that would refuse it outright. Well, regardless, I’m glad to hear that’s working. Did she say anything about the whole ‘female only sperm’ thing?”

“She was completely unaware that it may be a widespread problem. Several archivists have been assigned to identify sires that have produced only fillies, and a Memorandum is being dispatched to RHA’s nationwide.

“Within a few weeks every doctor in the nation will be made aware that an unverified concern has been brought to our attention. Hopefully before the next season is upon us we can confirm the issue and identify at least some of the potentially impacted individuals.”

“Huh. Damn, you move fast, boss.”

“It is a rather significant public health issue, as you pointed out. The biggest challenge will be determining what to do once the impacted individuals are found. As you may imagine, no treatment is available, other than the direct application of your special talent. Given your age, I would not ask that of you.”

“Ahh fudge. You do realize that at least somepony out there is gonna start calling ‘Prince Serpentus’ Doctor Dick or something like that, right?”

Celestia struggles to hold back a snort, mostly succeeding. The colt still shoots her an unimpressed look, despite the effort. “I apologize, Cure. I know that you did not want to, if I recall, go on a ‘nationwide tour adjusting everypony’s…’ well, balls,” she has to pause as the colt starts giggling.

“First I made her cuss, now I got her to say ‘balls.’ Oh wow, I’m going to have to see if there’s a bingo card out there somewhere I should be filling out.”

Celestia rolls her eyes and huffs at the colt, nudging his side with a knee to get him to refocus. “As I was saying,” she continues, “I know you specifically did not want to do that, so I will not ask that of you.”

“I know healthcare is free. Are travel expenses included in that?”

“Under some circumstances, especially involving a specialist, yes. Unfortunately, I do not believe there is sufficient budgeting to arrange transportation for a sixth to a tenth of all stallions in the nation. And, potentially, colts as well.”

“No… I wasn’t going to ask you to ship a few hundred thousand stallions my way. And even if I went to each metro for a weekend we’re talking six months or more of travel. I’m just thinking out loud, really. What about having a few thousand come every month while I’m staying in the capital going to your school? I bet by then I’ll have enough magic that fixing such a small part of the body-”

This time it’s Celestia’s turn to interrupt, as she can’t help but snort at the comment.

“- for some unfortunate ponies, not all of us, thankfully. Anyhow, it literally takes less than a minute to blast somepony with my magic to fix that issue. Heck, since I don’t physically need to touch them I could probably do a few dozen stallions every five minutes or so. They’ll just need to be… ya know… in like a private, divided up area. I guess.”

She frowns in thought, tilting her head as she asks, “Why? To maintain their anonymity?”

“Umm… remember when I used my talent on your ear?”

“Yes?” He spots the moment it clicks; the princess’s eyes go wide and a hoof shoots up to cover her muzzle. “Oh my,” she quietly mumbles, then begins giggling despite herself.

“Yeah, laugh it up. I ain’t interested in being in a room full of stallions sportin boners, boss. That ain’t my kinda party. How about we trade talents for a year; I’ll take care of the big, glowing ball, you take care of the small, furry ones.”

The princess can’t help herself; no matter how hard she tries not to, laughter escapes her lips. Giving up any attempt to maintain her regal bearing, she squeezes the colt between her forelegs, shaking his whole body in laughter.

“To hear such things from a foal,” she manages to get out between giggles. “I would normally be horrified, but it is just so bizarre.”

“Horrifyingly bizarre is just Sunday to me, boss.”

“Indeed. I suppose this is one instance where I would not be in such a hurry to be able to do what you do, Cure. Still, ponies have gotten by for many centuries despite this challenge. We will identify potential patients and, if you decide you can treat them, then perhaps once we have a better idea of the numbers we can come up with a plan.

“Given the scale I am not certain it will be possible for ponies that are in need of treatment to remain anonymous, but such is the nature of things during a public health crisis. I’m sure that is a sacrifice many would be willing to make if it means being able to sire a colt versus not.”

“True. I guess this is something I’ll be better capable of dealing with when I’m older too. Just let me know if it ends up being a lot worse than anticipated. If it’s bad enough then I’ll figure something out. And don’t exclude females that have ovarian issues. I don’t want anypony to accuse me of being sexist or whatever.”

“Very well,” she softly agrees. “That will increase the number of ponies that need treatment, but I will not exclude mares with fertility issues from whatever plans we examine. Hopefully we can identify the cause of this, assuming there is one, and prevent the problem from continuing.” The two sit in silence for a moment regaining their bearings.

“Took me a minute to remember what we were discussing,” Cure admits.

“I believe we were talking about your grandsire serving as your… well, assistant, essentially. Just so you are aware, the photos have been developed, framed, and shipped to Staff Sergeant Bulwark already.”

“Neat! I can’t wait to see them. Thanks, princess!”

“You are quite welcome, Cure. I’ll be sure to direct future shipments, should there be any, to your grandsire instead.”

“Great! As far as setting up travel, grandpa said he’ll check with either Countess Evergreen to see if she or Marquis Merryland have gotten word from you yet.”

“Either of them can arrange for private transport for you, your family, and any of your friends you invite. Or their parents, given their age. Notices were sent to both that a young colt in their region is to be crowned, but I withheld your true identity for the time being. If you are fine with them being made aware then I will dispatch notices to them. They would have to know eventually to arrange transportation either way, and the date is fast approaching.”

“Yep. Sounds good to me. Besides, couldn’t a marquis order a captain to tell them something like that anyhow?”

“Not if it countermands my own order, no. Or yours. I have not made it known that your authority is limited. I am trusting you immensely, but I have little concern you would issue any official orders that I would not approve of.”

“Wow. Thanks, boss. I mean… other than ‘Don’t tell anypony my real name’ I doubt I’d ever issue one. Maybe if I saw some kind of glaring injustice, but even then, I’d probably just kind of get everypony to chill out and then let you know what happened that night.”

“That would probably be best. I do not want to be caught unawares should somepony feel you have overstepped.”

“Yeah, we don’t need anypony comin to run to tell mommy, do we?”

Celestia scoffs while nodding. “Entirely too likely an outcome, depending on the pony.”

“That sucks. So that should take care of transportation. Next I may need some help arranging room and board for everypony. It’s such short notice and everything was already booked up for the Summer Sun Celebration that I’m not so sure they all will be able to find places to stay. I had considered seeing if Prince Blueblood’s offer is still on the table, but…”

“You are concerned he may, at some point, ask for something in return?”

“Eh, sorta. I mean, there’s not a lot he would ask for, I think, that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill pretty easily. Especially once my magic capacity grows. If he asked for anything too ridiculous I could just point it out, but I have little enough experience dealing with nobles that I’m not sure exactly what the expectation could be.”

She shakes her head, dispelling the concern. “There is no need either way. You are, or will be, a prince of Equestria, Cure. You can have as many rooms at the castle as you require. Feel free to invite your whole family if you so choose; I will have your room ready near my own before then. Of course, you are welcome to stay there whenever you like. I can certainly spare two, three, or even a dozen more rooms in the guest wing for anypony else for the coronation, or whenever an event is coming up. Within reason.”

“Great. Thanks, princess. I don’t plan on abusing that.” Cure pauses in thought for a moment, considering whether there’s any specifics of the coronation he needs to address. “Do I need to like… prepare a speech? Will I speak at all?”

“You do not have to, given your age. As there has been no prince or princess crowned since the founding of the nation there is little precedent from which to work. If you were an adult you would be required to do more, but aside from a vow to ‘help ponykind as you have already been doing’ I will not ask more of you. Would you like to give a speech?”

“Oof. I dunno.” With a cringe, he admits, “I feel bad since, ya know… from the sounds of it, hundreds of thousands of ponies are coming just to get a glimpse at me. I’m going to be in disguise, I’m not using my real name, and the thought of not even saying anything when they’re taking the time and spending the money to come?”

“I’m sure they would appreciate hearing from their new prince,” she offers with a shrug he can feel through his back. “You do not need to say much and, if you would like, I could have somepony write something up for you.”

“No. I’ll come up with something. Maybe next time we meet or the time after I can run it by you.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing it then.”

“Yeah, well… don’t get your hopes up. Aside from that there’s only one other thing. I met with Dr. Care and Ms. Gale, my supervisor at the clinic, about starting to heal as Prince Serpentus beginning in July.

“The plan I proposed is to go there Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings for a few hours and clear out their ICU and ER patients, then work on any chronic patients thereafter. They may start shipping in ponies with disabilities or chronic conditions from other areas afterwards.”

“That is phenomenal, Cure. Just take care not to overburden yourself. You must take time for yourself as well.”

“We’re talkin nine hours or less a week. Way less than I’m spending in school right now. I’ll be fine. Anyhow, when I told Dr. Care about becoming an alicorn I didn’t really give any details. I just said ‘I exploded and when I came back I was an alicorn,’ basically. She wanted to know if I’d be willing to do a physical exam since nopony knows anything about our physiology.”

“It would not be a bad idea,” Celestia agrees. “I would have insisted on an examination, but who could I possibly ask to ensure your good health that would be more capable than yourself?”

“Makes sense. I’m sure the doc will be thrilled. The last thing I wanted to run by you is combat training. I plan on doing some self defense classes, maybe some aerial fighting training. Do you have a hoof-to-hoof trainer capable of teaching me when I’m going to school there?”

“None that would know how to fight like an alicorn. Pegasus fight training should be similar enough to use as a basis, though. I am certain we will be able to find somepony once you get settled in.”

“Cool. I think that’s the last thing I needed to bring up with you tonight, princess.”

“Oh? That’s all?” she coyly remarks.

“It has been a busy week,” he responds.

“True,” she agrees, “I do not have anything else urgent to share with you. I will have more as the big day approaches. I am meeting with Family Planning to discuss arrangements for the upcoming birthing season. If you could, by next Sunday, let me know what dates you are available.

“Also, Cloudsdale will be in the area, so if you would like to stay and assist them, discuss it with your parents and tell me next week. I do not want you to overdo it, but even having you nearby for an emergency situation would be phenomenal.”

“Huh. I’d planned on coming back to Baltimare, but Cloudsdale has a much larger population. Pegasi also seem to have a harder time giving birth.”

“They do,” she agrees. “Earth ponies have a significant advantage there, which is the one of the two reasons I wanted to bring it up. The other is due to, as you noted, the larger number of births. Estimates for the summer birthing season in Baltimare are just over five hundred. Cloudsdale, however, is planning for around two thousand.”

“I’ll talk to my parents. Logically speaking, it would make more sense to stay and help Cloudsdale out than it would Baltimare. With the twins, though…”

“I understand. I do not want you to feel pressured. It was merely a suggestion. Talk it over with your parents and let me know.”

“Alright. I’ll see what they think and let you know next weekend.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Cure,” she says, reaching down to nuzzle the top of his head.

Cure rolls over, wrapping his forelegs around her muzzle and pulling her into a hug. “No problem, boss. Get some rest, alright? And, ya know… watch out for them bed bugs.” He shoots her a smirk, gives her one last nuzzle on her chin, then disappears under her scowling visage.

“I can feel it,” she sighs. “I’m going to have to throw a Fireball at him one day,” she confesses to the void.

Author's Note

Next week's will be shorter but the two afterwards will be about like this one.