Sunday, May 24th, 909AB (the next day)
Afternoon

“I get it,” Cure begrudgingly acknowledges, “it just kinda sucks they won’t be able to come.”

“Such is life in the guard, son,” Haze sympathetically agrees. “He’s certainly not the only one in the Baltimare region that would like to attend, but considering he was a newly minted private it was somewhat of a miracle he could accompany you the last time.”

“Miracle in many ways,” Deed agrees. “Havin a certified guard there ended up helpin all around. Both us and him, as a matter ‘a fact.”

“I can’t believe he’s a corporal already!” Dawn cheers. “The best part was watching him try to explain how it happened to all of his friends. He finally gave up and told everypony it’s confidential per her majesty.”

“Well… he’s not wrong,” Cure offers with a shrug.

Thanks to the convenience of the Sending crystals it is easy enough to find out when somepony is home. The four are on their way to visit Rising; or, more specifically, to speak with her dam. According to their friend, her dam is a little hesitant to let the girl go back to the capital after last time, so Cure suggested it may help alleviate some of her concerns if the local guard XO could spare some time to reassure her.

Haze, while technically being on the clock, is not in uniform at the moment. He explained that while the armor may add some more weight to the conversation, the filly’s dam is already quite aware of his position due to their friendship and previous meetings. He also doesn’t want to come off as intimidating to the mare, something Cure could understand given the fact two extremely fit stallions are accompanying him.

Cure hadn’t expected Dawn to tag along, but he didn’t have a good reason to say no when she asked. As with the sergeant’s armor, he figures having a filly and a known friend of her daughter with them may put the mare more at ease. The two have been friends since before he really got to know any of them, after all. In fact, Cure has only seen Rising’s dam a half dozen times that he can recall.

The first was when he was making rounds to drop off Hearth’s Warming presents. Though he was just being a good friend and, perhaps, a little bit of a shit, he left her with the impression that he was romantically pursuing, or at least interested in, her daughter. At the time the pair were no more than friends and, even to this day, he would hesitate to describe their relationship as anything else, even if it is closer.

Still, with so few colts the very prospect of seeing any of them alone with nopony to just be there for them… it’s a fate that entirely too many mares find themselves dealing with. It’s one of the reasons Cure isn’t even slightly upset with Sgt. Song after the previous day’s deception. Though slightly underhooved, he just can’t find it in himself to begrudge a dam trying to introduce a good colt to their daughter. That’s just part and parcel of being a parent in pony society, at least as it is now.

The second time he met the mare she didn’t give him the opportunity to get away without scooping him up in a hug. It was when he and his sire walked all the fillies home after dark, and was done in thanks for buying Rising her saxophone. He can understand; he is completely irresistible and totally adorable, not to mention handsome and, of course, humble. Mares that don’t have an overpowering urge to hug him more than likely have something wrong with them that even he can’t fix.

One other time was incidental when the friends were all hanging out, then there was the tree reveal party, then their departure to and return from the capital. The two didn’t have any time or reason to chat on those occasions.

“Indeed. Or at least, that’s partially true. While I certainly appreciate her majesty’s actions, I do worry. The brightest candles, and all that.” The stallion glances down at Cure and shrugs, “I suppose that rule doesn’t always apply.”

“Not sayin yer wrong, sarge, but I’m pretty sure that rule does apply to me too. There’s only one pony I’m not so sure about, and I don’t think a flame burnin out would be a big concern for her.”

Haze chuckles while nodding in agreement. “Perhaps so, son. His dam certainly had some mixed feelings about the promotion, though. She is thrilled for him, of course, but the Academy starts classes in September, so it’ll only be a few months before he’s shipped off again.”

“She’s already getting mopey,” Dawn says in agreement.

“Oof… and Maelstrom is a lot further away,” Cure adds in understanding. A small, worried frown crosses Dawn’s face, so he trots a bit closer, brushing sides with the filly.

“Ain’t it up near Chicoltgo?”

“Indeed,” Haze confirms. “Just northwest abutting up to the northern stretch of the Galloping Gorge. Some centuries ago they used the sheer cliff wall as a target backdrop. That is, until enough accumulated damage caused a rockslide. Environmental preservation groups stepped in, as you would expect.”

“Huh. Neat. I wonder if we’ll get to go there someday.”

“I can’t fathom why you couldn’t, Cure. Though I’m not sure that there’s much to see from a tourism standpoint. It’s tall, granted, but,” he stops and raises a brow at Cure shaking his head.

“Nah, I mean, like… go to the academy. Like, I’m confident we would qualify to get in, I’m just not sure…” this time Cure trails off at Haze’s dumbfounded expression.

“You are still considering joining the military?”

The colt nods.

“Why?”

“Why… would I join you mean?”

“Yes. You’ll certainly not lack for opportunities to serve, if that’s your motivation. There’s little for you to learn that you could not from another source if that’s why. I know she’s busy, but certainly her majesty would be a better teacher than almost anypony else possibly could be. Money certainly isn’t a driving force for you, nor do you need the career opportunities service would provide.”

“I dunno. There’s a few reasons, I guess. First off, if I ever do plan on doing anything official, leadership wise, having that experience will probably be helpful. There’s also the… I guess trust or respect? Faith?” He pauses, tilting his head up in thought before nodding. “Yeah, trust, I guess, is closest. Anyhow, with military experience ponies that may otherwise doubt something I say would probably be more inclined to consider it.”

“I don’t reckon yer gonna have a problem gettin ponies ta do what ya say, champ.”

“Indeed not,” Haze immediately agrees. “The title you’ll have aside, most ponies would likely obey a command automatically. If you, in your disguise, if that’s even the right term for it, walked into Base Carol and ordered full readiness the captain’s first order would be to put the base at yellow alert.” With a shrug he adds, “Her second may be to send a dragonfire letter to Canterlot, but nonetheless, she would obey until told otherwise.”

“Huh. That… “ he pauses, considering his words. “I dunno what to make of that. It makes sense, I guess, but that’s also a little scary. Still, with proper military training if a situation were to come up someday I’ll at least have an idea as to what’s going on and what needs to happen. Without it I’d have to rely entirely on the ponies around me knowing what to do and I would hafta assume they’re right.”

“True,” Haze concedes. “I suppose, ultimately, you have time.”

“We all have time, sarge. You two put any thought into havin a few more since my revelation?” The question gets a scowl from the filly, but Cure just gives her a curious look. “What? Don’t wanna be a big sister?”

“I’m fine with being a big sister!” she huffs. “That doesn’t mean I want to think about it.”

“As a matter of fact, we did discuss it. Only in passing, though. Perhaps at some point in the future we’ll consider it, but I believe we both wish for a few years for ourselves once our little glowbug is all grown up,” he fondly offers, leaning left to nuzzle the filly’s neck with his snout.

“Gonna wait a bit before startin all over, are ya?” Deed asks.

“Exactly. Who knows, honey. Perhaps in ten or fifteen years when you’re ready to be a dam we’ll be ready again too. It would certainly make foalcare easier, having foals at the same time. It’s certainly not a concern now, nor will it be for a long time.”

Brows furrowed in thought, Dawn considers the implications. “But… if I had a foal then you and dam did mine would be older than its aunt or uncle!”

“It happens sometimes,” Deed comments. “More with earth ponies than y’all, but it does happen. Especially when, like us, somepony has one young.”

“Yeah, babe. My great grandparents are, biologically, twenty five now. If they decided to have another foal I’d be older than my grandmother or grandfather at that point. Of course, just making a mare young again doesn’t mean she’s going to be able to have more foals.”

“What?” Dawn asks, “Why not?”

“She’ll probably have run out of eggs,” he casually answers.

“I... was not aware that mares simply ran out of eggs,” Haze confesses. “I was under the impression the body produced them until, eventually, it stopped.”

“Huh-uh. Females of most species have a set number of eggs when they’re born. For us it’s like... a few million. Each season the one the body deems the healthiest, or sometimes more with fraternal twins, is released in the body and the mare experiences estrus. Once the number of eggs goes below a certain threshold the mare doesn’t have that happen anymore and they can’t have any more foals.”

“Fascinating. In my defense, my medical experience is, obviously, not focused on reproductive issues.”

“Yeah, I would hope that’s not something somepony’s callin the guard for help with. I mean, maybe in some of those books,” he says with a laugh as the filly beside him looks like she wants to wretch.

Haze just groans, complaining, “You would not believe how many times I’ve been told, ‘I’ve always loved a stallion in armor,’” he says in a nasally impression of a mare’s voice.

“Yes I would,” Cure assures him. “I get it secondhoof, but if I put a bit in a jar every time somepony’s suggested introducing me to a filly I could pay my taxes with it each quarter.”

“So wait,” Dawn interrupts, “if just making somepony young again won’t give them eggs, how could you possibly make it so they can have foals again? I mean, if you didn’t use your talent on them while they still had eggs...”

“Offhoof, I would imagine I could just give mares something similar to... well,” he frowns in thought, looking past the filly to her sire.

“Testicles?” Haze casually offers, legitimately curious. The suggestion nearly causes Dawn to trip when she whips her head around, staring at the stallion in horror while Deed guffaws and looks away.

“Not exactly, but sort of?” Cure answers. “I mean, obviously the product would be quite a bit different, but the underlying function would be similar. I’m not gonna walk up to some mare and be like, ‘Sure, I can give ya foals again, lemme just cram a ballsack up in there and you’ll be all set!’”

“CURE WAVE!” the filly screeches in admonishment. Haze snorts out a laugh while Deed lets out a deep, loud laugh.

“Maybe that would help ‘em with all the craziness,” Cure whispers to his sire, setting off another round of laughter. He has to course correct when the scowling filly bashes into his right side.

“Perhaps,” Haze begins while still lightly chuckling, “you should work on your bedside manner. And for Celestia’s sake don’t let her dam hear you say that. She may have a stroke. Or kill you. Perhaps both.”

“Yeah. Well between that and a few other things in nature, I’m sure I can come up with something. Some animals, though not many mammals, actually produce eggs throughout their life. I’m just not sure if whatever I come up with will be in the form a treatment I can distribute or if it requires my direct use of my talent.”

An air of silence falls on the group as they ponder, walking the remainder of the short distance to their friend’s house.

Cure trots ahead a few steps and gives the door a rap, calling out, “Knock, knock! Yo, RP! It’s us!” The enthusiastic call out gets a chuckle from the unicorn stallion as his daughter sighs and rolls her eyes again. The small smile doesn’t escape his notice.

The sound of hooffalls on the other side precedes the door swinging open only a moment later. Rising, her dam just behind her, smiles at her two friends and quickly hops out to give both a nuzzle. The mare looks young given Rising’s age. Cure wouldn’t put her past thirty, but it is a little harder to tell with earth ponies sometimes. She has a light cream colored coat and darker, deep red mane.

“Hello,” the mare greets as they make their way in. “We’ve met a few times, but I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.”

“Sergeant Gleaming Haze, ma’am. Dawn’s my little girl.”

“Clean Deed,” his sire greets with a nod. “I think one ‘a my wives was talkin yer ear off at the colt’s tree party. Well, she weren’t my wife yet at the time, I suppose.” At her thoughtful look he clarifies, “Lemon Sweet? Yellow coat ‘n light blue mane.”

“Oh! Of course! She owns that wonderful candy store by the train station! Congratulations! I’m Crisp Script. A pleasure,” she greets, then looks up at the dark stallion. “Three wives?” she asks, smiling broadly.

“Thanks! Four, actually. Lemon and Amethyst Blossom were married already. We’re all one big, happy family now.”

“Four? Oh my!” She puts a hoof to her chest and very blatantly looks the stallion up and down. “Goodness, me, that is impressive. I can certainly see it, though.” Rising sags a little with a sigh while Dawn looks over Cure’s withers at Deed, trying to find whatever it is that sparked that reaction. Haze looks like he wants to go find an adult, but Cure has to struggle to hold in a howl of laughter. “Come right in, please make yourself comfortable,” she says, stepping aside and waving everypony in.

Cure follows Dawn into the house, trailing behind Rising. As he enters the living room for the first time his attention is immediately drawn to the bookshelves that line the wall opposite the large bay window. With his acute vision he spots some familiar looking, new looking books on some of the higher shelves; they’re the same “Scarlet Heart” series his dam had chastised Title for leaving out some months ago.

Like Dawn’s home, the family has actual couches instead of cushioned mats, though there’s only two, both perpendicular from the far wall with the fireplace. The two stallions take the closest while Rising motions the other foals to the one her dam has returned to.

“You lay here!” she commands, pointing right next to her dam. Cure glances at his sire, unsurprised to find both stallions smiling in amusement. He hops up just a few hooves away from her dam on her left side. Before he can sit the yellow filly starts pushing on his right haunch, nudging him to the left. “No, Cure, turn so we can both fit!” she demands.

“Yes, ma’am,” he obediently turns, facing the broadly smiling mare. Dawn watches in confusion as her coltfriend is marehandled. “Like this, ma’am?” he teasingly asks, laying with his barrel twisted so his right haunch and chest are flat on the couch and hind hooves are nearly dangling off the side.

Nodding in approval, the filly looks at Dawn and waves her to her, apparently, reserved seating on his withers. Once she’s situated, Rising happily flops over his lower back, crossing her forehooves primly by his hind legs. “You good?” he asks, looking up at her from under Dawn’s chin.

“Mmhmm!”

“Sure you don’t want a pillow or anything?”

“No thanks!”

“Some fresh fruit, perhaps?” he offers.

All the adults are shaking in laughter at the scowl she sends him. “I could go for some cherries,” she snarks back.

“You bet!” he easily agrees, reaching into his mane and pulling out a cherry-laden vine before passing it to the perplexed filly. “Extra sweet and no pit as milady prefers,” he drolly offers.

Somewhat hesitantly, the filly accepts the vine, analyzing it with furrowed brows. “I thought cherries grew on trees, not vines,” she quietly mumbles.

“My dam is a mare of many talents,” he assures her in non-answer before turning back. He finds her dam looking more closely at his mane mouthing “Where the?” in confusion. “Sorry, but we’re all out of cherries, ma’am. Just sold the last batch. Hopefully we’ll get some more in on our next shipment.”

A sharp poke to his side and a quick “Behave!” causes him to frown at the surly unicorn on his back. “See if you get any treats,” he grouses under his breath.

“Maker help us,” Haze quietly bemoans, wrapping up a protracted facehoof. “Miss Script, Cure had asked that I join him to discuss our upcoming expedition… to…” the stallion pauses, distracted by the two fillies having a foodgasm over the cherries. He shakes himself to refocus, continuing, “to the capital for the Summer Sun Celebration and Cure’s coronation.”

“It’s really true?” she asks, turning to analyze the colt, shocked to find a horn sticking straight out of his head. The colt closes his eyes in concentration for a moment and, in a flash of light, a four by five hoof, elegantly framed photograph is floating in the air before her. Taking it in her hooves, she immediately spots Cure, horn and wings on full display along with all the other foals, the younger adults, his parents and siblings, and of course, the princess.

“Well done, Cure,” Haze compliments. “Much easier than teleporting yourself, hmm?”

“That was awesome!” Rising cheers. “You teleported that all the way from your home?!”

“Our house,” Dawn answers. “He left yours and Saph’s there. He just wanted to show off.”

“I’m goin over there so we can practice our skit after this. It also seemed like a good way to dispel any remaining doubts,” he offers. “And the sarge is right. A half kilogram frame is a lot easier to teleport than all this hunk’a pony,” he says, motioning to himself with his right forehoof.

Nodding, the stallion explains, “Most adult unicorn stallions aren’t much more than about a hundred and thirty kilograms. I’m a little on the heavier side thanks to all of the exercise. How much do you weigh now?”

“Not much more than a few months ago; like eighty-five, maybe.” Plus about another forty or so crammed in my bags. “Range is definitely based on true mass, though. I can’t go farther just ‘cause I’m using the pegasus aura.”

Haze nods in understanding. “A shame. You could teleport to Fillydelphia in only a couple hops otherwise. Assuming you had identified good landing points, that is.”

“I can fly high enough to see Fillydelphia from here, sarge. Griffons ain’t got squat on me.”

Script looks appraisingly at the colt. There’s no denying he’s very muscular, but he’s only a few centimeters taller, though a fair amount broader, than her daughter. “Are you heavier because you’re an alicorn?”

“Sort of. We’re definitely made a lot different from the other tribes, but I don’t know how much of that actually contributes to weight. I wasn’t really any lighter before all this happened. My muscles are way heavier, but that’s mostly ‘cause they’re larger and, more importantly, denser than what you'll typically find in nature aside from a few specialized spots. A lot of our physical strength is the result of metaphysical cow manure I can’t follow, but it seems to be multiplicative instead of additive.

“Our bone structure is pretty different on a microscopic level; I’m pretty sure the compact layer is made of some kind of cobalt compound instead of calcium, which makes no freakin sense ‘cause I don’t think the boss lady eats rocks. At least I can explain how the dragons are replacing theirs, but don’t ask me what greens she’s eatin to keep her from gettin some kinda osteoporosis. It’s probably either recycled or maybe there's some kinda automatic transmutation goin on internally. I can't detect minerals like that with just a snapshot scan, so who knows?

“Either way, that was just the mark one alicorn bone structure. Mine are a fair amount stronger because of the way individual bone cells in the compact layer interlock on a molecular level when stressed. The softer tissue still adheres, but gets squeezed out of the way so the much harder pieces fit together like a three dimensional puzzle. That spreads the pressure out instead of letting it focus on one spot and, even if one cracks it doesn't move since it's trapped by all the ones around it. To a point, I suppose.

“I’m prototyping a few different titanium, aluminum, and steel hybrid bone structures that I’ve come up with using transmutation. Heavy metal poisoning is a concern for others, but the titanium seems really promising since it’s safe and nonreactive. The best compound I’ve found so far was a complete accident.

“Kudos to Sapphire; she bought some cubic zirconias when we were in Canterlot and since they’re knockoff diamonds and not considered ‘precious,’ transmuting stuff into it is perfectly legal. It only took me a couple days to get enough powder to line the important spots and lemme tell you, my cranium is tough and absoluuutely fabulooous!” he finishes, waving his forehooves in the air and chuckling.

The fillies share a confused look while Script slowly turns her head from the colt back to the two stallions, then raises a single brow in question. Both shrug helplessly, Haze offering the only answer he can come up with. “Alicorn of Life. I only followed some of that.”

“I… see,” she slowly drawls. “The picture shows wings,” she inquires, looking meaningfully at his left side.

Cure lifts the hidden wing along with Dawn's forehooves, extending his primary and secondary feathers. “I keep ‘em hidden, same as the ‘ol magic wand,” he says as he waves at his head.

“Huh. That’s useful,” she comments to his vigorous agreement.

“I believe we may have gotten somewhat off topic,” Haze observes.

Cure nods in agreement. “I do have that effect.”

“Indeed.” He turns to face the mare and explains, “My understanding is that you had some concerns regarding our safety during the journey. Given what happened last time, I can certainly understand where you are coming from.”

“Well, of course, after all…” Script begins, then pauses and looks uneasily between the foals and sergeant for a moment before saying, “Rising, honey, how about you three go up to your room for a moment.”

Cure, unused to being left out of adult conversations, looks to his sire and Sgt. Haze. The fillies accept the request without argument and, upon receiving a nod from the stallions, Cure hops down to join them.

The three head up the stairs as Haze begins outlining some of the semi-publicly shareable precautions that have been discussed. Though the house isn’t as large as Sapphire’s parents’ house, the upstairs hallway has four doors; two on each side. The farthest, he assumes, leads to the master bedroom and the first one on the left is a small bathroom. The farthest on the right is their apparent destination, but just like Onyx had in his home, the first one on the right appears to be a home office.

Cure only glances in as they pass, but does a full-on stop and back up move when he sees something that, if he’s identifying it correctly, he didn’t even know existed in this world. “Hey RP, what’s that?” he asks, jerking his head towards the desk. The two fillies rejoin him and peek into the room. “Is that a typewriter?”

“Mmhmm. Dam’s written a few books. She just bought it last year and says it’s much easier on her fetlock.”

“Can I look at it? I won’t touch, I’m just curious how it works.”

The filly worries her lip for a moment and looks down the hall towards the stairs. She looks back and gives a small nod, but repeats back his promise. “No touching. She says they’re super expensive.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, walking up to the desk it’s sitting on. The desk surface is low enough that he can rear up and look. There isn’t a booster in the room and, given that he really doesn’t intend to use it, he doesn’t need one. Dawn joins him a moment later, looking over the solid metal contraption that’s drawn the colt’s curiosity.

Cure had always been curious how ponies could use a typewriter. Sure, their TK field would be capable of substituting in for fingers with some training, but despite the strength and flexibility it offers it lacks in speed and precision compared to fingers. Whatever pony invented this, and he’s fairly certain it must have been a pony, they went a very different route, probably to make it more viable for unicorns and pegasi as well.

While it still has the visually unique carriage that human typewriters have it lacks anything resembling keys. Instead, there are two spots for forehooves to rest in the center of a pair of disks where the keys would normally be. Along the outside of the right disk is the alphabet, spread out into groups of eight color-coded labels.

The grouping at the nine o’clock spot has A through H. The A is white on a black background, the B is the opposite, and C through H are color coded with red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. Groups of letters, then numbers, and finally symbols are arranged at the cardinal and ordinal points.

“Ah… so you move the left disk in the direction of the color, then the right one to pick the corresponding letter. Huh.”

“Yep, and there’s a pinwheel thing that spins around and goes ‘whap’ to make the letters.”

“I don’t see space, upper case, or carriage return.”

“You press the color wheel for upper case. The hoof pedals do space and go to a new line,” she says, motioning to the floor.

Cure goes back to all fours and lights his horn, finding two pedals where a rear hoof would rest on the right side of the lean chair. He spots a wire or cable running up to the back of the typewriter from the unit. Given that there’s nothing magical or electric he can detect, he can only assume that there’s some kind of tension wire that hitting one or the other will trip.

“You’re such a geek sometimes,” Dawn observes.

“Yeah, I know. You gotta admit it’s kinda neat though. Can she type really fast with it?”

“She does most of her writing when we’re at school, but I know she’s a little faster with it than she can write,” the filly answers. “I think hoofwriting is better, but when she really gets going she can fill up a page in only a few minutes.”

“Cool. Thanks for lettin me check it out. What kinda stories does yer dam write, anyhow?”

“She says she writes history books. I’ve never read them ‘cause they sound boring. C’mon, I wanna practice my song for tomorrow!”

“Okay. Don’t think I’ve ever been in a filly’s room before, even if I did see it after the whole pie thing,” he agrees, following the pair.

“Evenin, boss!” Cure calls as the princess emerges from a bank of clouds. As soon as she lays down he nuzzles into her chest and collapses between her forelegs.

“Good evening, Cure Wave. You seem to be in a good mood today.”

“You bet! Sgt. Haze was able ta talk RP’s dam inta comin to that little shindig ‘a yers, so that’s almost all’a my friends and most of the parents that’ll be there. Solar hasta work and Star’s stayin back with ‘em, though. Afterwards me ‘n Saph worked on our talent show skit, then when I flew a list of everypony over to my great grandsire’s I just happened to show up right when granddam finished pullin a whole sheet’a sweets out of the oven!”

“That’s wonderful news, not to mention fortuitous timing. I don’t suppose you brought me one?” she asks with a hopeful, nearly pouty expression.

Cure furrows his brows and tilts his head in confusion. “We can do that? I haven’t taken anything outta my bags ‘cause I was afraid they’d disappear or somethin.”

Giggling behind her hoof, Celestia shakes her head no. “We appear as we see ourselves, but physical items don’t come here with us. Not really, at least.”

“But…” he points a hoof at her peytral and tiara.

She closes her eyes for a moment and they fade into nothingness as she explains, “They appear on me here, but will still be where I left them when I return should I remove them here. Otherwise that would be a very convenient way for us to transport items, would it not?”

“It would,” he easily agrees. “Well, once I can do that alicorn dragonfire mail thingy I’ll shoot ya off a couple whenever granddam whips some up. The mare’s named Caramel and she damn well knows how to make ‘em. My… his mom used to try to make ‘em, before. Said she could never find a good enough candy thermometer for those and fudge. They seemed fine, but she always said only gra… her mom could get ‘em perfect every time.”

Celestia wraps her forelegs around the colt, squeezing him gently against her chest. The pair sit in silence for a few minutes. He blows out a deep sigh and reaches up, nuzzling the side of his muzzle against her neck. “Thanks, princess.”

She nods in acknowledgement and releases him from the hug, giving him room to twist so he’s laying mostly on his side against her right foreleg. Looking up to the mare, he continues, “Yeah, so RP’s dam just happens to be an author. Did you know that?”

She nods and says, “Employment history is part of the dossier for all of the parents of your friends and classmates.” At his raised brow she explains, “Investigating associates of important ponies is standard procedure. It’s not terribly invasive; just a little more than what you’d likely ask from a prospective employee.”

“Ah. So… you read any of her books? Apparently she writes some kinda history books or something. RP couldn’t tell me any of the titles and Miss Script insisted they wouldn’t interest ‘a young, energetic colt.’”

“I’ve likely read almost every book in existence, Cure,” she answers in a flat tone.

“That’s a yes, then?”

She looks down, meeting his eyes in challenge.

“Have a favorite? I greatly value your opinion, after all. The girls and I enjoyed the ones you loaned to Drift. If you can suggest a good one maybe me and all the others can sit down and read it together.”

“Cure,” she calls in a tired tone.

He turns away, idly commenting, “I’m really curious what kind of fascinating things we could all learn. You know what they say, after all. Those who don’t learn from history and all that. I like to think of myself as somewhat of a subject matter expert in that particular area, as a matter of fact.”

She raised a single brow, waiting patiently for him to continue. Never one to disappoint, he does so right away. “After all, a sharp mind adept at quickly storing and retrieving facts helps immensely, and my unique capabilities mean that I’m able to not only get the big picture, but also catch the smallest detail. It’s the little parts that frequently get overlooked, and if you’re really paying attention, sometimes those little nubs of information can make a huge diff-”

Celestia lifts and drops her foreleg right on top of the colt again, looking away and sighing in exasperation as he cackles underneath her. “Of all the foals…”

Not missing a beat, he continues, “She asked my sire to pound her out.”

“What?!” she shouts, moving her hoof to the side to meet his eyes.

“She didn’t ask right there in front of us, but I overheard.” He waves his ears and explains, “Better hearing than a bat, remember? Just as we were leavin she wrote a little note and stuck it in an envelope for my moms, then asked if he would consider ‘being available come fall,” and changes his voice to huskily add, “and possibly before.’”

Rather than be mortified or embarrassed, she gives a firm approving nod in response. “Good. Your sire is a fine stallion. I do hope he considers making himself available to as many mares as he can. Harmony knows the need exists.”

“Yeah we’ve talked about that a few times. I’m planning on lending a hoof when I’m older, but I’m not sure how Dawn, assuming we’re together, would take that.”

“Both you and she will need to have a serious conversation at some point in the coming years. More than one, I suppose. As much as I treasure ponies’ right to choose, the simple fact is that there is a need and, upon reaching adulthood, you will be expected by many to do your part as well.”

“Yeah. Not looking forward to that. Well, the conversation part, or the ‘expectations’ part.”

“You care for her and don’t want to hurt her. While her desire to have you to herself is understandable, it simply is not feasible for now. If you were a typical pony then, by all means, but as the Alicorn of Life…”

“Right. I know. I think she’s seeing that too. Unicorn culture, ya know?”

“I do. I’ll not bring up the many sacrifices I have had to make, nor would I expect so much from any of my little ponies, but we must all sacrifice some things for the greater good.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anypony wants to play the ‘who’s given more’ game with you.” Cure rolls on his rear, retracting his horn and nuzzling into her chest and neck. “Everything’s gonna get better now, boss. We’re all here for ya.”

A smile splits the princess’s muzzle at the declaration and, unbidden, her right wing wraps around the colt to pull him in tight. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate that, Cure, despite your… oddities.”

“You bet, princess.” With one last nuzzle she releases him, letting him lay back down between her forelegs. He rests a cheek on her right pastern and looks up at her. “So, whatchya got for me this week, boss? I don’t suppose there’s been any updates on the prick that rented out our house?”

“There has. Even with his cutie mark hidden by a suit it was not difficult to find him. Only so many dark red pegasus stallions live near Baltimare, after all. He was showing a house to a young couple up in Parkdale when a squad happened upon him.”

“Really? Seems a little quick,” he comments, looking up suspiciously at the mare.

Her wings shift slightly as she turns away. “I… may have, on occasion, glanced in that general direction. Pegasi and other flying creatures tend to be somewhat more noticeable when in the sky. That’s all.”

“Uh huh. Well, my parents, especially my moms, will be happy to hear you found ‘em so fast, so thanks for that.”

She flicks a wing dismissively, saying, “Oh, I didn’t do much. Just peeked over there and, maybe, sent a letter or two. No big deal.”

“Whatever you say, boss. Speaking of goins on over here, I’m bettin you’ll be super excited about this,” he says, projecting an Illusion of the day’s front page of the Baltimare Examiner in front of himself.

Celestia leans forward to take in the picture of the colt, in his Serpentus guise, hugged on all sides by a family of bat ponies. Only his hooves, face, and one wing are visible through the tangled weave of membranous wings and forelegs squeezing him tight. The headline reads “Prince Serpentus Saves Family” and the lead indicates he detected a fatal, hereditary heart disease while doing health checks after Junior Guard Training the previous morning.

“Fantastic work, Cure!” she cheers, squeezing him tight again. “Oh, I’ll have to have copies sent to the castle! To think such an opportunity would present itself on your very first public outing!”

“Oh yeah, I guess it was, wasn’t it?”

“As far as I know, yes. Well done!”

“Thanks, boss. Much better picture than this one,” he says as he changes the Illusion to one of him slamming Lt. Silver into the mat. Celestia giggles and makes a sympathetic “Aww” upon seeing the lieutenant’s bulging eyes. “I’ll hafta make it up ta him. Hopefully his squad won’t give him a bunch of crap over gettin beat up by a colt.”

“Perhaps. Guards do like to razz each other. I’m sure he will be fine. I wager any but an earth pony would find themselves at a similar disadvantage, and they should know that.”

“Most earth ponies too, I bet. Nonstandard musculature, princess. Those minotaur are lucky I only gassed ‘em. Speakin of which, how’s that whole mess going?”

“The minotaurs have been sentenced already. Their leader will serve eight years and his subordinates seven and a half. The zebras have a competent attorney, but their trials, as well as the ponies’, should wrap up by next week. They will all be sentenced and sent to Salt Lick Penitentiary a few days before you arrive in the capital.”

“Good. Good riddance to ‘em. How’s the whole Pure Dew Pharma investigation coming?”

“You saw that in the paper, I’m guessing?”

“Royal Guards storming a pharmaceutical company and arrestin almost all the executives tends to garner a headline or two,” he points out in answer.

“You have been good so far. Just keep in mind, my order still stands,” she gently reminds him.

“I know,” he huffs. “I’m behaving.”

“Good. Those trials will likely take longer. Unlike the fool that was selling your information, they can afford the finest attorneys; something they have taken advantage of. Ultimately they are wasting time and money.

“The evidence against them is substantial and with my direct order giving Lt. Spear the authority needed to conduct the raid they have no valid argument to have collected evidence dismissed. The one who had… has, for now, a noble title will face additional corruption charges due to her position.”

“One of them is a noble?”

“Not of high standing; merely a Lady. Regardless, It infuriates me to know that she, who would accept the honor, would then take part in the planning of the abduction and, in all likelihood, murder of a foal!” She doesn’t shout, nor does she growl. Her voice becomes a physical force mid-sentence, gaining a resonant echo as her mane and tail whip up with flecks of golden flame. Cure feels the heat and pressure swell; a warping, gravitic effect permeating the area as he sits stock still while trying not to gain the attention of the eldritch entity glowing above him.

The fuming mare sucks in a deep breath and slowly blows it out, releasing the tension held in her astral body and the surrounding area. “She shall find my mercy quite lacking when she comes before me.”

He waits a beat for her to take another breath before asking, “You sentence nobles? I figured a judge…” he trails off when she shakes her head no.

“They are nobles. For disciplinary matters regarding their appointment they report to me, and no others.” She looks down at him, “For now. Maybe you, as well, someday. In this case I shall make my displeasure known, so that others would not forget should they ever consider doing something so dishonorable in the future.”

Cure shrugs and nods in response. “Sounds good to me, princess. The lady made her bed. She can sleep in it now. Maybe I oughta give her heart a check before you see her. We wouldn’t want ‘em gettin off too easy and if you get all fiery like that with most ponies they could keel over on the spot. Or mess themselves.” He raises up and makes a show of looking under himself. “I’m kinda surprised I didn’t. Coulda swore somethin slipped.”

Laughing uproariously at the colt’s silliness, Celestia nods in agreement. “Perhaps so. I shall have to temper myself beforehoof. My apologies, Cure. As we’ve discussed before, I try to maintain my control. In times past, the astral was a place I could come to, as they say, take off the tiara. Then again,” she glances upwards, “I suppose that still holds true.”

“Sure thing. And when I get a little older and taller maybe I can drag ya to a sparring ring. You can show me how to fight like an alicorn and, as long as ya don’t go too far, work some ‘a that stress out.”

“Goodness! I can only imagine the guards watching as two alicorns spar. That would be quite the sight!”

“Bet they’d be watchin through a telescope if they got any brains. I just wonder how many times I’ll hafta whoop ya ‘fore ya start whining ‘bout how unfair it is.”

Scoffing, Celestia pushes the colt over on his side. “Please. I find myself somewhat less than intimidated.”

“Yeah, you just keep pushin me around while I’m little, old lady. You’ll see someday.”

Celestia raises a single brow at the colt as he cockily bobs his head side to side. She wraps her hooves around him, getting a squawked “Ack!” then lays her head and neck across his back, smushing him from dock to snout under her. She giggles in amusement at his futile attempts to push her off, then pauses to tilt her head when she feels him still unexpectedly. Her eyes go wide in alarm when something, in a lightning fast strike, coils around her neck, over her back, and down her sides, binding her wings securely in place.

Recoiling away on instinct, she finds the colt lassoed to her by bands of pink flesh sprouted from his sides. His neck elongates disturbingly and rotates a full one hundred and eighty degrees, putting the two snout to snout. “Thought ya had me, didn’t cha? Other way around, boss!” he teases, smirking.

“I feel I must congratulate you, Cure. I do believe that was the single most upsetting thing I’ve ever seen a foal do. Ever.”

“Awww,” he gushes, eyelashes elongating as he flutters them, “you say the nicest things. I figured this,” he tilts his head back to indicate his long neck, “out a few weeks back and have been dyin for a reason to try it.

“Normally Drift woulda said somethin funky by now but she’s been behaving herself for once. And ta think, all it took was thousands of bits in presents, helpin her parents conceive twin colts, an all expense trip to a show, and custom, one of a kind wings,” he complains with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Would you mind… ?” she asks, shifting a wing against the bindings.

“Hmm? Oh! Right, sorry!” With an apologetic expression, the colt retracts his neck and withdraws his tentacles, dropping to the floor. Celestia lays down on her barrel again, though she keeps a wary eye on the colt. “Why ya lookin at me like I’m gonna bite ya, princess?”

“Really, Cure?” she asks, mildly scowling at the colt.

“What? I’d never do anything mean, especially to you. Weird is fine to a degree, but not mean. Yer lucky ya didn’t get a tongue up yer schnoz or something. I’d totally do that to somepony else.”

“A tongue up my -” she freezes, staring wide eyed at the colt as his tongue, stretched thin and narrow, snakes out of his mouth, up around his snout, and into his right nostril. He goes cross eyed for a moment and, to her dismay, the tip of the tongue pokes back out the left nostril before snaking back into his mouth. She opens her mouth to point out the obvious but freezes when the original portion of his tongue comes out like a serpent’s tail, only to follow the remainder up, into his nose, back out, and into his mouth.

“Ta Daaaa!” he shouts, throwing his hooves wide. “It’s a shame you can’t come see the show tomorrow. Plenty more where that came from.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Nah, not really. I’d probably cause a stampede from all the panicking parents. It’s a magic show, so lots of sleight of hoof and goofy aura tricks nopony ever thinks of. It should be fun.”

“Hmm. Very well. I had best not hear of anypony being traumatized, though.” The princess pulls the colt back between her forelegs, though she still keeps her head up and away from him.

It hurts a little to see her react like that. He doesn’t think what he did was really that big of a deal, but he figures perhaps she’s had some event happen where she may have been similarly bound or trapped. It occurs to him that it’s also the first time he’s done any kind of shapeshifting in her presence without warning, and that it was a form of attack that may be twigging some kind of subconscious prey instinct she hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

He gives her a reassuring nuzzle on her leg and moves on, resolved to avoid doing anything like that again, or at least until the trust level between the two is sufficient that she knows he’d never do anything harmful to her. “You bet, boss. Speaking of traumatizing ponies, I’m meeting that zoo filly this Friday. I’ll let ya know how it goes next week.”

“Excellent. I’ll look forward to hearing about it. I do have a few updates for you as well. Testing continues with your trees. Several lab mice have been impregnated using a variety of different treatments. The first batch of… pups, if I’m not mistaken -”

“That’s right,” Cure confirms, nodding into her right cannon.

She smiles in thanks and continues, “they should be born in a couple weeks. If they are healthy and produce healthy pups then perhaps by next spring we will be ready for limited testing with volunteers.”

“Damn, glad I don’t have that job. Who do you have to piss off to be the dude applyin tree goop ta rodent crotches?”

“I…” Celestia pauses, her face going through a myriad of expressions. First thoughtful, followed by disgusted, and finally settling on mild amusement. “It’s not the most glorious of tasks, I will concede, but an important one nonetheless.”

“Right, absolutely. I just imagine somepony sitting in a lab with the whole coat and goggles on using a cotton swab to slather blue gel on a mouse’s wiener thinking, ‘Thank the stars I went for that master’s degree! Best job ever!’”

Celestia chuckles lightly, slowly shaking her head. “Regardless, your Origin Cell tree’s testing may be complete as soon as next month. The data from Baltimare Hospital helped speed that along. Your Antigen tree may be ready in time for the fall flu season, but the Vaccination tree may need adjustment.

“The team responsible for testing it has recommended that instead of a unit that’s designed for public use that it be repurposed for use in a sterile environment. Rather than provide vaccination for thousands of strains, they would prefer being able to expose it to one or only a few strains and have it target only those.”

“That’s doable,” he agrees. “It’s a narrower scope and, technically, easier, in fact. I’ll produce some seeds like that when I come in a couple weeks. Or I can have my parents bring some of my plants and transmute them wholesale when they arrive.”

“I’m sure either will suffice.”

“I’ll do both. They’ll have a working tree and a few spare seeds that way. Back to the Colt tree, Sgt. Song had a good point about testing. If it’s viable, she suggested Hollow Shades. It’s close enough I can fly over for monthly checkups and has a large bat community. Their smaller numbers exacerbate the whole gender ratio problem.”

Celestia considers it for a moment before shaking her head no. “I would not want to test a medicine on them if possible, even with you nearby. While they would benefit more than many from the treatment, they would also be more susceptible should any problem arise long-term.

“Then again… If it’s a problem you can easily correct, I suppose that would mitigate the risk.” She purses her lips and hums in thought before finally nodding. “I will mention the possibility, at least.” She looks at the colt consideringly and points out, “I suspect before long you will be the far more popular alicorn amongst the bat ponies. Training with them, saving their families from heart problems, resolving their low population numbers. They always favored my sister for obvious reasons.”

Cure shrugs in indifference. “Can’t say I’m interested in a popularity contest, boss. Ponies always like whoever gives ‘em stuff or fixes things for ‘em. They tend ta forget the stuff not right in front of them. They may not actively think of you when they can enjoy their day to day lives with peace and stability, but they’ll sing your name in praise if, stars forbid, somethin comes by and reminds ‘em.”

“Well… let me know if you begin to notice anything,” she requests.

The colt gives her an unsure look. “Notice anything? Like what?”

“You are using your talent constantly, and sharing it freely with others. It has always made me wonder… was I the more magically powerful one because ponies cherished the day? Was it because of the passing of time that we grew, or was it because we followed our destinies? With no other examples from whom to draw conclusions I have no way to be sure.”

“That’s… a lot to chew on, boss.”

“It’s more of a curiosity than anything, really. I suspect that it will matter little in the long term. Just tell me if anything changes, okay?”

“Would’ve either way,” he assures her. She smiles and nods in acceptance, letting the silence linger for a moment. With no other topics to discuss, Cure slowly rolls to his hooves, turns, and wraps his forelegs and wings around her neck and chest. “Goodnight, princess,” he says, nuzzling his brow into her neck just behind her jaw.

To his relief, she wraps a wing around him again and pulls him tight. “Goodnight, Cure. I will see you next week.”

Author's Note

Okay, I think there were some parts that I did better on my first pass through editing, but then my browser crashed and I lost all that. And no, it wasn't because I wasn't saving. I made a bunch of changes, saving after each one, then the browser crashed. It brought back up the first version of the chapter and I didn't notice that all the changes I made weren't present until after I made one more and hit save, thus overwriting all the ones I did in the meantime.

That happened when I tried to use autocorrect to change "Juinor" with "Junior" and, if you do a Find & Replace, you'll note that the word only appears once at about 70% of the way through the chapter. A chapter that, when I started, had under 8000 words.

Good times.

Oh well, I hope everyone enjoys. For all the other Americans out there, Happy 4th tomorrow. Don't do anything too stupid. Fingers are only useful when they're attached.

Thanks for reading, folks!