Friday, June 12th, 909 AB (4 days later)
Mid-morning

Celestia takes a dainty sip of her tea and regards the pegasus on her right. “Are you sure you don’t mind, lieutenant?”

Opposite the purple mare, the colt grumbles as he spears a slice of pear with his fork. “Yer makin it sound like foalsittin me’s a downright chore.” He taps a hoof on his chest insisting, “I’m delightful ta be around!”

Neither mare deigns even look in his direction, further frustrating him.

“Of course not, your majesty. It’ll be a nice break compared to the last few days.” She gives the princess an adorable pout and whines, “Unlike somepony, I didn’t get to snuggle with all the little ones.”

“Dunno why you’d want to. Babies are gross. You know where those things were just before,” he mumbles, wrinkling his snout in disgust.

“Royal privilege!” is her immediate reply overtop his crass remark as she thrusts her hoof in the air. “If you’d like, we could always trade duties for today. I’m sure you would greatly enjoy the council meeting, after all, and I wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on him. Too much, that is.”

The mare fails to suppress a shudder at the offer. “Hrm. Tempting, but I guess I’ll take him.”

“Still sittin right here, ya know?”

Both mares glance at the colt, share a look, and go back to their conversation. He huffs in annoyance, floats an apple over, nearly dislocates his jaw, and eats it in two bites, core and all.

“Very well, Lieutenant Spear. I wish you good luck today. I suspect you’ll need it more than I.” She turns to the openly scowling colt and continues while poking his side with a wingtip, “And you, young colt. Do try to behave yourself for the lieutenant.”

Cure lets out an indignant squawk and holds his forelegs out wide as he looks between the two. “What the hay?! I always behave!”

“Thank you, your highness. I’ll be sure to let you know if he’s good or not.”

“Y’all are a riot. Whatever,” he grouses, changing his coat and mane to the light purple, golden-maned appearance of the mare. “When do ya wanna head out, mom?”

“That’s weird,” she comments. “I don’t see many colts with a purple coat.”

“Yeah I’ve noticed that too,” he agrees. “That and pink are really common for mares but I don’t think I have ever seen a single pink stallion either. Not a single colt I’ve delivered was either color, though one had a dark purple mane.”

“It is uncommon, but not unheard of,” Celestia explains. “I believe the magic of the world, or perhaps Harmony, plays a part. I know of a few stallions that were born with coats you would typically associate with mares. Most had their colors magically altered, much like the service you offer.”

“Huh.” He inspects his foreleg and shrugs. “I dunno, it is a pretty color. I don’t exactly see anypony giving me crap over it, but that’s more ‘cause ‘a my bulk than anything.”

Lt. Spear nods in agreement, looking over the muscular colt. “Without the horn anypony would assume your sire is an earth pony. You’re way too wide for a normal pegasus.”

“Yeah, trimming down some is something I’m gonna work on as I grow. Imagine me with this frame a hoof taller than the princess,” he says, tilting his head at the mare in question.

“You showed us with the suit,” she points out. “It was honestly a little intimidating. Especially with talons.”

Celestia, for her part, doesn’t comment; merely staring ahead with an indifferent look on her face. It doesn’t escape Cure’s notice that the temperature of her cheeks went up a tiny amount for a moment, but that may be because she’d taken a sip of her nearly boiling tea.

“You ready to head out?” he asks.

“Sure. Do you want to fly? I can have the sergeant send a carriage to the shopping district in about an hour.”

“Awesome!” He hops down off his booster, trots over to the princess, rears up, and wraps her left side in a foreleg and wing hug. “Good luck, princess,” he says, nuzzling into her chest.

“Thank you, Cure,” she quietly replies, squeezing him with her foreleg. “Go have fun today. You’ve certainly earned a break. And try not to give the lieutenant too hard of a time.”

“No promises!” he says, squeezing her again before the two separate. Lt. Spear and the princess exchange farewells as the pair make their way out.

For however long he may live, Cure is certain there will never be a point where shooting through the sky will ever be anything but awesome. The power and endurance of an earth pony make him feel like some kind of war god; the magic of a unicorn, while limited at his age, is flexible and varied.

The pure, unadulterated freedom of the wind, the feeling of his broad wings slicing through the air, and the escape from the gravity of the world; pegasi have no idea how good they have it. The colt struggles not to giggle whenever he takes to the air.

After grabbing some bags and suiting up, the pair take off from the southwest side of the castle and execute a dive to gain speed, shooting down the mountain towards Ponyville. After a couple hundred meters the lieutenant pulls up, keeping an eye on the colt until she sees him matching her maneuver. They shoot up just a little north of the moored Cloudsdale hospital, then circle east towards the northwest shopping district, keeping slightly under Cloudsdale’s floor.

The pair of purple pegasi come in for a landing just beside the fountain in the northwest shopping district and start making their way to his first stop of the day; Tinkerer’s Treasure, a hobby shop that the princess suggested when he mentioned wanting to buy some crystals.

The shop, like many in the mountain city, has its door held open to allow the cool Canterlot air to circulate into the store. Excitement getting the better of him, he prances eagerly through the door, hopeful to find at least a few good deals. Dutiful as always, Gliding Spear follows behind him smiling broadly at his foalish glee.

With a sniff of the air Cure picks out the scent of ink and parchment, making a beeline towards the enchanting section of the store. He glances back at his minder when he hears her let out a small giggle and shoots the mare a curious look.

“It’s nothing,” she initially demures.

“What?” he asks with a hint of insistence, barely slowing his trot as he continues on his path.

Huffing out a sigh, she explains, “It was cute. You’re normally super serious compared to most foals.” She shrugs her wings. “Tartarus, even compared to a lot of adults. Your smile when you were flying; I’ve only seen you look genuinely excited a few times. It was nice.”

“Flying is amazing,” he happily chirps. “I always dreamed of being able to fly. Not just for practical reasons, though that’s a huge plus. The sights, the speed, that adrenaline high you get… I just can’t get enough of it.

“Again, though, the ability to get from home to literally anywhere in Baltimare inside of fifteen minutes is super convenient. An hour by hoof and rail or fifteen minutes by wing. I mean, come on!”

Spear scrunches her snout as she nods. “That’s really unusual for an earth pony. Most I know get a little anxious once they’re more than a couple meters above solid ground. They really don’t like the sky carriages. That aside, I genuinely don’t know how others get by. I would lose my mind going everywhere by hoof.”

“Slowly,” he answers as he approaches his desired section, “but I have some ideas to address that.” As he expected, the more expensive stuff is locked up, so after looking over the offered supplies and not finding anything particularly interesting he makes his way to the counter. On display inside of a glass case are the crystals of tiers mid-low and higher along with several enchanted products.

Quills of Transcription are ten thousand bits each and, try as he might, Cure can’t think of anypony that would benefit enough from one. The description of the item thoroughly impresses the colt, and if they were half the price he would be getting one as much for the novelty as the convenience.

Each quill comes in a hoofcarved, elegant box that includes instructions for setup, a smaller travel carry case, and the golden earclip that makes the whole thing function. Something that never occurred to him when he pictured such a device is how exactly a transcribing pen would work. He’d always imagined speaking aloud and, somehow, the writing instrument would just magically know what to do.

The reality is that there are a hundred variables that are done automatically when somepony writes. Where to write, what style, print size, where the ink supply is, how low the ink level is, and how much ink to gather are just a few of the things that immediately come to mind, mostly thanks only to Ed’s experience trying to get his phone to do a decent job transcribing text messages.

Somehow, nearly all of those functions are transmitted from the earclip to the quill by the user’s will. It doesn’t require that the user even speak aloud, which would probably be really annoying in most environments.

As tempted as he is to get one for his parents, none of them do an excessive amount of writing. His mind refuses to consider just how Drift would probably show her appreciation for such a thing, but ten grand is too much to spend on the girls at this point. He considers that it would, in a way, be a wonderful gift for the princess, but there are at least a few issues with that idea.

First and foremost, it’s a somewhat significant gift; far larger, price-wise, than anything he’s given to any of the girls that are both his age and, objectively, closer to him. Second, while neat, it doesn’t do anything that a horn doesn’t already do, so it just wouldn’t have much of an impact for her. Finally, he would just about bet his horn she either has a hundred of the things already, or more likely, the ability to make one herself with little effort.

A few lesser knickknacks are also offered; eternal lights in a variety of styles from candles to lanterns to peytral, hat, or helmet-mounted versions. Old fashioned ear-horn looking devices that work like parabolic microphones and can listen to a pony from dozens of meters away, even if they are rather conspicuous in their appearance. A legitimate sound amplifier amulet that presumably works like the device the rodeo announcer had is available for a grand.

“What kind of ideas?”

The lieutenant’s question draws him back out of his thoughts as he turns from the case to look curiously at his temporary guardian. “Huh?”

“For unicorns and earth ponies to get around?”

“Oh! Yeah, maybe like some kinda teleportation grid, along with some ideas of different land-based vehicles, both for individuals and groups. I have a few larger, longer range flight ideas too, but those are more for inter-city travel. Maybe even a gondola lift of some kind up the mountain, but that’s a ways out.”

Cure goes back to looking in the case while Spear stares in incomprehension at the bizarre colt. On one wing, he is just a colt not even nine years old. On the other, he’s not even nine and is an alicorn that’s already pulled several amazing things out of seemingly nowhere. It only takes another two seconds of thought for her to mentally shrug and accept that, in all likelihood, the foal isn’t just blowing smoke, even if she doesn’t know how he would get a boat to go up a mountain.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he calls, raising a tall wing and waving it in the air. The attendant, an older, deep red unicorn mare, makes her way over with a frown.

Barely making a token effort to hide her annoyance, she looks over the display counter and gruffly asks, “What do you want?”

Apparently dismissing the rudeness, Cure rattles off his order; a small selection, but one that makes Spear’s bit pouch want to cry. “Four mid-high crystals, five mids, four of those compressed bit pouches,” he pauses and looks at the lieutenant, then amends, “make that five, and I’m curious about that sound amp necklace. If you’re wearin that thing does it work on musical instruments or do you need to get one specifically made for that?”

The attendant gives the colt an exasperated stare for a moment then turns to Lt. Spear. “Get your colt under control or get out of here. I have a store to run, not a daycare.”

“Oh hey, I got a suggestion instead,” Cure speaks up before Spear can reply. He rears up to lean his forehooves on the top of the counter and starts reaching back into his mane. “Forget the sound amp,” he says as he starts stacking thousand bit coins on the counter five at a time, “and knock about ten percent off the total for being a rude prick.

“Instead of just flat out leaving and tellin everypony how you talk to customers you’ll still get a big sale today, even if I’ll never be back in my entire life. How’s that sound?” he asks as he sets the last of seven stacks of five on the counter and gives the mare an angry glare.

Cure isn’t sure what the mark-up on crystals is, but he’s confident it’s well over ten percent, at least on the bigger ones. She may be taking a loss on the mids, but the mid-highs are over seven times the price (five thousand bits compared to seven hundred) for approximately two and a half times the capacity. If her profit is cut from thirty or forty percent down to twenty-five percent then maybe she won’t talk funky to the next potential customer.

Gliding Spear winces at the curt admonishment. The mare stares a long moment at the stacks of bits, then floats one up to inspect it. She sets it on a small white stone that turns green, then does the same with another. Satisfied the bits are legitimate, she grimaces and looks between the two apparent pegasi while Cure meets her eyes with an unflinching stare as he awaits her response.

Catching the mare’s eye, Spear gives the colt a quick side-eye, looks back to the shopkeeper, and does her best to convey that it’s probably not the worst of the two options. The colt doesn’t take well to ponies disrespecting him, as she saw with his “snake” display with the captain. He probably wouldn’t have to do anything more than tell a few ponies the absolute truth about his visit to the shop for it to cost them more than a few thousand bits worth of business.

Glancing back and forth between the pair, the mare gives Cure an ugly scowl, nearly shaking in anger. “Get out!” she shouts, pointing a hoof at the door.

The colt shrugs and bobs his head in a nod, then looks over his withers. “You ready to head out, lieutenant?”

When Spear turns to respond to the colt she sees his horn is suddenly on full display. “Uhh... sure, your highness.”

“Great!” he cheers, backing away and lowering himself from the case. He faces the pale, gawking shopkeeper and gives her a nod while floating the stacks of bits back into his mane. “Take care,” he calls as he makes his way to the exit.

Spear hesitates following a second to look back at the terrified mare. “I’ll talk to him,” she quietly tells her. A small, almost automatic nod of acknowledgement is her only answer. She hurries to catch up, finding the colt waiting for her just outside. Unsurprisingly, his horn is no longer visible again. “While I understand your frustration, that may have been a little too harsh, Cure,” she gently scolds.

“Maybe,” he agrees, lightly nodding. “And, yet, at the same time I was there to spend an absolutely ridiculous amount of money. That place probably sells a hooffull of that stuff a month and there I was to drop a normal pony’s annual salary. Or more.” He waves his wing back at the door as he continues, “I bet that’s a decent chunk of their total sales for the week. All she had to do was talk to me like she should to any customer.”

Blowing out a deep sigh, Spear can’t help but acknowledge his point. “You’re not wrong, but you’re also a foal who was asking for stuff no foal would normally be able to afford and a pegasus usually wouldn’t care about. Maybe next time let me talk to the shopkeeper? You don’t want everypony talking about the new prince trying to abuse his position to get discounts.”

“That’s not what happened at all!” he growls quietly enough to not draw attention from passing ponies. “I didn’t even bust it,” he inclines his head and flicks his eyes up, “out ‘till after she said ta get lost!”

“I know!” she hisses. She takes a deep breath and, more calmly, repeats herself. “I know. But how will it look, hmm? What will ponies believe if she spins it that way?”

He huffs in annoyance and kicks idly at the ground before giving her a begrudging nod. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. I have my doubts she’ll tell anypony anything at all, but I could see that.” He looks around idly, grimacing as the thought of the princess scolding him crosses his mind, even if he still feels like he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Fine, I’ll let you take point from now on.” He blows out another sigh and glances to the lieutenant before smirking. A quick step closer and he leans against her side, unexpectedly nuzzling up under her chin, and asks, “So, ma, know anywhere else that sells that stuff? There was a hobby store we stopped at last year once, but I’m not sure if they had the bit pouches too.”

She blows out a deep sigh and returns the nuzzle. As sweet as the colt can be sometimes, deep down, all the way into the marrow of her bones, Lt. Gliding Spear can feel that today is going to be a long day.

Unsurprisingly, there were more than a few stores that sold either or both the crystals and the compressed bit pouches. The latter store had a wide variety in stock in addition to their more mundane offerings. Given his still somewhat smaller frame compared to an adult, Cure opted to stick with his original plan and bought four more for himself, then a fifth for the lieutenant. The mare quietly accepted the gift, even if he could tell she was unsure about doing so. She probably knew he would insist and opted to skip the ensuing argument and make a scene; a wise choice in his opinion.

Cure is somewhat disappointed that their fourth stop, an appliance store, didn’t have anything new and awesome for sale. There are a few appliances they lack such as a stand mixer, blender, or a can opener, but he can’t imagine his dam or moms using those much at home. Lemon already has a commercial grade, hoof-cranked mixer in her kitchen at work. He’d shown her how to use the Spin cantrip on it via a crystal which gives it way more flexibility with programmable speed, duration, and direction.

As for the can opener there are few enough canned products available that the purchase isn’t worthwhile. There are some soups and sauces available in tin cans nowadays, but with a garden out back and the combined talents of Cure and his dam there’s just too little use for canned products.

Even if they used cans often he had found a few good cutting spells when he’d spent time with Celestia before. A low tier crystal for only fifteen bits is not only slightly cheaper than a nice automatic can opener, it’ll never stop working and is a hell of a lot more fun to use.

Though he wouldn’t have any need for it, he had kind of been hoping to see some kind of magical Roomba or, at least, an enchanted broom and dustpan. Maybe even a mop since all but their bedrooms have hardwood floors. Instead, everything was relatively mundane compared to what one would expect in a fantasy world. When so many washing and cleaning apparati can be cheaply replaced by a single crystal there’s just no need for dishwashers, vacuums, washing machines, or dryers.

Done looking around, Cure leans against Spear and asks, “See anything you need in here?”

“Not really. And you’re not buying me anything else!” she insists, bumping his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you bought me that bit pouch,” she quietly admonishes. “You shouldn’t be spending money on ponies like that.”

Cure shrugs as he makes his way out the door, Spear just a step behind him. He turns left to head down the street to a toy store as he continues, “Don’t think too deeply about it, lieutenant. It’s a gift. A way for me to show my appreciation for all you’ve done.

“You arrested that prick Green Slip, found the real culprits, found the three imposter guards and my trees, you’ve been nice every time I’ve interacted with ya, and now yer spending the day foalsittin me instead of makin somepony else do it. I know you don’t mind,” he rushes to say when she opens her mouth, “but I appreciate it. I don’t know how much you know, but I make lots of money.”

“Obviously,” she scoffs.

“Right, but ya know… what good is a pile of bits in the bank compared to showin somepony you appreciate what they do? Stuff like that,” he jerks his head back towards her small saddlebag, “that’s just the kinda stuff I do for my friends.”

“Well…” she slowly says, “I do appreciate it. Everypony was super jealous of my suit, too.” She giggles softly and adds, “You should have seen my husband try to put it on. He managed, sort of, but it looked incredibly uncomfortable. Getting it off of him took a lot of work.”

Cure winces in sympathy. “I would think it would’ve been really uncomfortable in… uhh… places.”

The pegasus guffaws at the observation, laughing as she nods. “His voice went up an octave or two.”

“I bet. The princess and I talked about having a health fair for her officers and their families in a month or two. Maybe ya ought ‘a bring everypony by and I can scan ‘em for their sizes and, who knows, maybe they can look forward to something special for Hearth’s Warming.”

“I just said -” she starts before he interrupts her.

“The suits hardly cost me anything to make. I actually made a bunch for my friends to sell back home before I left. Here,” he waves off to the side, “watch.” The two move out of the way of passing ponies and stand by the side of the street between a few stores and mostly out of sight.

Cure makes a show of reaching back under his wing and, using a scan of the lieutenant, quickly assembles a second suit for her, then another that’s about a half hoof taller and slightly larger with the extra ‘male support’ additions.

Without knowing the coat color of her family, Cure opts to go with a slightly off-white cream color. It goes with most other colors and isn’t so glossy that it’s hard to look at in bright sunlight. The mare watches in awe as he pulls first one, then another out from seemingly nowhere.

“Quit lookin at me like I’m doin somethin amazing,” he whispers, rolling his eyes. “You’ve seen me do crap that makes this look like nothin.”

Spear lets out a sigh and nods in acknowledgement. “True… true. Sorry, it’s still kind of crazy to see.”

“Nothin compared to my big suit,” he points out, getting another nod. “Anyhow, these aren’t all nice and enchanted like yers is. It’ll get ‘em by ‘till December, though.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it either way. Thank you, Cure.”

“No biggie, just tuck those in your bag or even in the bit pouch and let’s go. I wanna see if there’s anything neat in the toy store. I’d like to get something like what the princess had me workin on the other night for myself and Dawn.”

“What’d she have you doing?”

Cure scrunches his snout, thinking best how to describe the activity the princess had him working on. “Ehh, I guess the best way to describe it is like… an obstacle course game kinda thing?”

“For… unicorns?”

He nods as they enter the store, the two of them barely slipping by several other parents and foals coming and going. An older filly working as a greeter points them to the aisle with horn practice toys.

As the two start walking that direction Cure, between one aisle and the next, blends his wings in, absorbs his flight suit, and pops his horn out as he continues his explanation. The quick tribe swap gets a blink out of the mare but she figures this is just his normal. The fake cutie mark, a stylized question mark, causes a double-take, but after a split second of thinking it over, it seems perfect given the circumstances.

“Yeah, so I’m not doing the best job explaining it, but imagine a huge box, right?” She shrugs and nods. “The front is open and inside it are a bunch of wires with small plates that X-shaped holes in ‘em. So you have the X-shaped pieces that fit through those holes and you gotta float the shapes around the course and thread ‘em through the holes on a color coded circuit.”

“I’m not sure what it’s like to have a horn but that sounds challenging.”

“Doing one piece at a time isn’t too bad. I could do that, even if I was kinda slow rotating them just right. It’s doing multiple pieces at the same time that’s more challenging. Especially when they’re moving in different directions and you still gotta rotate them in different orientations to fit through the obstacles. Really the whole thing reminds me of a variant of the shape box toy I made for my baby sister, just very different, I guess. I may eventually make my own, but for now, meh,” he says with a shrug.

“Levitation itself is pretty easy, but keeping the force wrapped around a small object like that without it spreading and gettin stuck when you get to a hole is a pain. Doing so while rotating the piece and moving it in three dimensions is that much worse. It’s definitely something I need to work on. Keeping the levitation bubble tight and only using it on specific parts of an item are things I’ve not really practiced.”

Truthfully, even doing one piece at a time was a challenge. Cure had always visualized a spherical ball of force wrapping around smaller objects. Much like a hand, it’s not difficult to “grab” a larger object, but smaller targets are easier to pick up in the telekinetic version of a closed fist. The exercise earlier in the week forced him to instead pinch the piece between two “fingers” of force, the edges of which would catch on the obstacles when his concentration slipped.

Conversation pauses as they round the corner to the aisle. It only takes a few seconds to find a variety of kits for different sized courses. The largest come in heavy cases that fold out and are about the size of his entire body while standing. He floats a couple of them down and sets them by his side as he continues, “Of course the boss lady had’ta show off. The pieces come in different sizes, bigger pieces being harder ‘cause ya gotta hit the hole just right with less room for the TK bubble.

“She made two dozen of the bigges ones float through the friggin contraption like it was nothin. They might as well’a had a mind if their own the way they were moving. I mean, on one hoof it was kinda mesmerizing ta watch, but talk about feelin inadequate,” he finishes with a scoff.

“She does have a slight advantage…”

“Just a tiny one. She’s only had a horn about two thousand times as long as I have. Whatever,” he dismissively shrugs, “I’ll get there eventually. Hopefully in well under eighteen hundred years.”

He takes a moment to look over other “educational” toys available and is surprised to find horn training accessories. A closer inspection shows them to be sleeves that fit over a foal’s horn. “I had no idea such a thing existed,” he comments.

The sleeves have a variety of uses; some say they dampen vibration to provide resistance, in theory forcing the muscles to work harder to vibrate. Others allegedly vibrate in patterns that stimulate what a horn does, teaching a foal to play back notes to get accustomed to the “feel” of each rune.

“Me neither,” she says, “but I’ve never had a reason to look into it. I wonder if they work.”

“They do,” a nearby customer cuts in in answer. Cure and the lieutenant both turn to face the mare that just walked into the aisle, an off-white unicorn with a curly deep red mane. A filly around Cure’s age, almost an exact copy of her dam with a slightly lighter mane, is nodding in agreement right by her side. “All three of my daughters initially struggled with runes associated with this,” she points a hoof at the upper front right part of her horn, “area in particular.

“A little practice a few times per week and they built the muscles up enough that, within just a year they were able to activate them with near perfect resonance.” She turns to Spear and continues, “If your son is struggling with any runes or just becomes fatigued too quickly I highly recommend them,” she finishes with an affirming nod. The mare furrows her brow as she notices that a unicorn colt and pegasus mare have identical coats and manes, but apparently decides asking how that happened would be inappropriate.

“I do the alphabet twenty times a night with the resistance band!” the filly proudly declares. “I used to get tired after only three or four.”

Cure is honestly unsure if that’s fantastic or just normal. Never having done much with a normal horn, he can only assume that twenty, especially with whatever resistance the sleeve tacks on, is pretty good. Foals their age wouldn’t normally cast more than a few spells before their magic would be running low, so there’s little reason for a horn to have to go through that many runes until they’re older.

“That’s amazing, but twenty sounds like a lot,” he comments. “I don’t know how many is normal, but can’t you strain your horn by overdoing it at our age?”

The mare speaks up before her daughter can. “Twenty is safe, but that’s all she’s allowed to do until she’s older. Do you not practice, yourself?”

“I’ve never really needed to worry about endurance.” Given his stature, the mare seems to accept that easily enough. He can almost see the gears turning in her head when his distinctly earth pony build is pointed out, but he carries on regardless. “I found out the other day that my levitation dexterity isn’t where it needs to be, though,” he tilts his head to the boxes, “so I figured I should get a set for me and my unicorn fillyfriend back home.”

“Oh? You’re in town for the coronation?”

He smiles broadly and nods. “For the most part, yep. I may stick around a day or two after, but then I’ll be headed back home to Baltimare.”

The “I” gets a furrowed brow as the mare looks between the colt and his guardian. The strange response and lack of a correction from Lt. Spear seems to throw her off even worse as she tries to piece together exactly what is going on here. The quiet sigh that escapes the lieutenant doesn’t escape Cure’s notice, and he can’t help but shake slightly in a quiet laugh at both mares’ reactions.

“Well thanks for the heads up about the therapy sleeves,” he calls, lifting both boxes onto his back despite their size and weight, “I’ll keep ‘em in mind in case I run into anypony that would benefit. We have a few more places to hit before lunch. It was a pleasure,” he adds, ducking his head in a shallow nod as he starts towards the cashier. Calling back to the filly, he says, “Maybe I’ll see ya again next year when I’m back for school. Take care!”

At Cure’s insistence they make a quick trip to a bakery to buy some snacks for themselves and his guards, then drop off his purchases in the waiting carriage. Spear argued it was unnecessary, but Cure figures standing around a busy shopping street watching a parked carriage all morning is boring, and a small thanks, necessity aside, doesn’t hurt anypony.

He knows he tends to spoil ponies around him, but he’d rather splurge and spend a few bits on the off chance it’ll win over somepony that would have otherwise been only interested in doing their duty. Loyalty, he knows, isn’t freely given, and he’d rather have the ponies that’ll be keeping his family safe think of him as a kind, generous, friendly foal they actually care about and not just the lucky alicorn colt they have been ordered to put up with.

Once he loads up his training kits and passes them their sugary bribes, he hops in the carriage and makes another quick change back to pegasus mode. The move gets a look of confusion from the three, but it seems like “alicorn” is an acceptable blanket explanation for any weirdness around him, so they collectively accept the strange behavior and take his purchases back to the castle.

Cure’s next stop will probably be a quick one, but that depends on whether his attorneys are with a client at the moment. The flight over to the firm, which is just southwest of the train station, is quick, and the view of the city from a few hundred meters overhead is just as breathtaking as it has been every other time.

Unfortunately, there’s enough traffic in the sky that instead of really taking it all in he has to focus on where he’s going. The skies aren’t exactly crowded like the streets are, but there’s more than enough bodies flying around that neither gawking about nor going fast seem like a good idea. Even at a sedate pace it’s only a five minute flight to a small park landing area buried in the surrounding office buildings.

The pair make their way into the law offices, relieved to find that the office is empty of any other clients. The mare behind the reception desk calls out in greeting as soon as the door closes behind them. “Good morning and welcome to Ace, Hardwick, and Rose. How can I help you?”

“Howdy, ma’am,” he greets, the top of his head barely above the desk, “I was wondering if Ms. Rose or Ms. Issue are available and, if there is such a thing, if you have a form I can get my parents to fill out that will authorize me to make some decisions independent of them.”

“There is not,” she immediately answers. “Foals below fifteen must have a parent’s approval for most things unless they have been emancipated. You’re already a client?”

“I am…” he hesitates a moment before asking, “Are you bound by attorney-client privilege as well?”

“Anycreature that works in a law office is, the same as the attorneys themselves,” she answers with a nod.

“Cool. My name’s Cure Wave, and I wanted to update one of them with a change in status. I think Ms. Rose is, technically, my attorney. Ms. Issue was needed for a special talent demonstration during my initial consultation.”

“Ah,” she bobs her head in understanding. “Fridays are usually their paperwork days,” she explains, her eyes drifting to Lt. Spear, “Is this an urgent matter?”

Spear gives a weak shrug and shakes her head no. “Not urgent, as such, but important. I’m First Lieutenant Gliding Spear, second in command of the city’s garrison. I can’t tell you what to do, but…” she pauses, slowly looking back to the colt, “I suspect they will want to see him if they have a few minutes.”

The receptionist quirks a single brow and looks between the two before nodding. She stands and approaches Moon Rose’s door, knocking gently then poking her head in for a few seconds. She shuts the door and returns to her desk. “She’ll just be a moment, she just needs to finish what she’s working on. Please have a seat.”

They make their way to the cushions and lay down; the lieutenant gets situated first and Cure flops next to her, leaning against her left side. In what he can only assume is a reflex, her wing raises and wraps over his back, pulling him closer into her side. Her eyes widen and she freezes for a moment once it registers what she did, but the colt just sighs in contentment and rests his head on her cannon.

The snuggling isn’t terribly uncommon for ponies, even between adults and foals not their own. It’s not exactly common either, but it is a little more familiar of a gesture than would typically be expected given their relationship. It would be completely expected from any of his friends’ parents or somepony that’s a friend of the family, though.

He can’t think of a problem with it, so despite it being slightly overly familiar, he just rolls with it. She’s basically his guardian for the day and she is out of armor, so there’s no reason why he shouldn’t treat her the same as he does the princess. There’s also the fact that a warm, soft wing is draped across his back and he’s snuggled up to a pretty mare. All things considered, this is A-OK in his book.

While they’re getting situated the receptionist unlocks and enters the records vault, closes the door, finds Cure’s file, takes it into Moon Rose’s office, then returns to her desk. It’s only a few minutes later that Moon Rose opens her door and peeks out. She looks at the purple pegasus colt and mare snuggling on the cushion and, to Cure's surprise, gives them a beaming smile.

The pair get up and approach the blue mare as Cure calls out, “It’s me, Ms. Rose. I’ll explain.”

“Sure! We’ll have to use the conference room,” she says as she motions to the same room as last time. Quickly locking her door behind her, she sheepishly explains, “Friday is our paperwork day and I have a few things out on my desk.”

Her behavior seems a little odd compared to the last time they met, but he's confident a changeling didn't replace the mare on the off chance he would happen to stop in. With an acknowledging nod, Cure beckons the lieutenant to join him and the two follow her into the room that looks exactly as it did last time, booster seat and all. Once seated and, with the door closed, Moon Rose regards her alleged client and the mare she recognizes as the XO of the city guard.

“So,” the colt starts, “last time I was here the first thing I asked was if I was covered under attorney client privilege. You called me eloquent,” he recalls, “then I demonstrated my talent with an Illusion crystal and fixed Ms. Issue’s eyes. She gave us a coupon for dinner.”

Moon Rose nods, easily remembering the details of that meeting. With a knowing smile she says, “I recall your dam stopped by the Friday before a certain rather significant event…”

Cure chuckles warmly and nods as his suit merges back into his suddenly blue coat. His wings remain and, in only a second, his horn is once again prominently on display, standing tall off of his brow. “I figured y’all probably put two and two together.”

Her face lights up in excitement as she leans closer to fully take in the colt’s appearance. “If you’ll allow me…?” she asks with forced calm, pointing at the door.

“Sure.”

She gets up and leaves the conference room, nearly vibrating in eager anticipation. A knock and a quick hushed conversation can be made out and, a moment later, Ace Issue comes barreling in the door with Moon Rose right on her tail. She takes one look at the alicorn, shouts “Celestia damn it!” then stamps her hooves, cursing and slowly spinning in a circle while carrying on. Finally she stops, looks at Moon shooting her a sneer, and says, “I’ll go get yer stinkin bits!” before stomping back out of the room.

“You bet it was me?”

“I sure did!” she proudly declares. “I suspected when I saw the snake in the sky and heard the announcement. When I read that Prince Serpentus is a healer?” she scoffs, “I knew it had to be you. The timing was too perfect. Ace said the colt in the pictures looked nothing like you, but I told her!” she nearly shouts, shaking a hoof in triumph. “I kept saying, ‘He does cosmetic alterations for work, dum dum! Of course he looks different!’”

“Yeah, yeah, here’s your damn money!” Ace growls, floating two ten bit coins to the blue mare as she re-enters the room. She pushes the door shut and joins her partner on the other side of the table, sitting down in a huff and giving Cure a weak glare. “I guess I can forgive ya since you fixed my peepers, colt. Most ponies that cost me money don’t get off so lightly, so consider yourself lucky!” she exclaims, jabbing a hoof in his direction.

The smug look never leaves Moon’s face as she regards the alicorn. “An alicorn colt,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “Well done, Cure. I’ve been keeping an eye on the papers.”

“Smooth moves with those plotholes on Monday!” Ace interrupts in a laugh. “Those pictures have been in almost every paper all week. If half those morons aren’t already fired I’ll eat my own tail.”

“Indeed,” Moon agrees, “for our celebrity clients I would normally refer them to our own public relations ponies, but I’m sure her majesty has that taken care of. Aside from winning me a free lunch,” she shoots Ace a smirk who responds by sticking out her tongue, “what can we help you with today?”

“Well last time I was here you said to come to you with anything other than plotting to overthrow the princess. I was wondering if your policy on that has changed.” He pays no attention to how Lt. Spear slowly turns her head to glare at him.

“I’ve already got the SiC of the guard in my pocket,” she scoffs, “and Cpt. Shield seems ta really like me too,” that gets a snorted laugh from the lieutenant, “so I figure I’ll just keep givin the boss lady cake all’a the time and when she’s so big her legs can’t reach the ground past her belly then the throne will be mine!”

Ace raises a hoof and waits until Cure points to her. “Can I be your Chancellor of Laws?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I’m in!”

“Cure?” Spear calls, voice dripping exasperation.

“Hmm?”

“You said you always behave. Plotting coups, even nonviolent ones, is not behaving.”

He rolls his eyes and loudly sighs. “Fiiine! The job sounds like it sucks anyhow.” All three mares nod, even if Lt. Spear’s is shallower and somewhat reluctant. “I really just came by since I figured you needed to know. Eventually, at least. I’ll still need somepony representing my interests on the off chance that were to become necessary outside my role as a prince.”

“That’s probably wise,” Moon agrees. “Having incomplete information about a client can cause difficulties. We may need to refer you to other firms for things of a more international nature.”

“Yeah, colt,” Ace seconds. “That’s a whole different set of rules, there. We’re not well versed in international business law. Not enough to represent you, that is.”

“That’s fair. I do have some things I want to make that’ll have an international impact, but the more I’ve thought of them the more I’m leaning towards working with my great grandsire to make ‘em happen. I can grow plants that will produce meat-like food, for example.

“I’m thinking primarily pig, chicken, and turkey. Maybe if those are well received I’ll do some fish, a variety of other seafood, and, of course, delicious, succulent pegasus.” A wing immediately slaps his back. “I may end up reconsidering the last one,” he admits, not even looking at the scowling lieutenant.

Still giggling, Ace nods in agreement. “That may be best. Come to us with everything and, if it’s outside our expertise, we’ll set you up with the right firm.”

“Right, I know. I mean, we got sent here because of your reputation with criminal and magical stuff. I may need some assistance setting up a scholarship program at CSGU eventually, but that’s a future project.”

Moon Rose cocks a brow in question. “A scholarship program?”

“Yeah. The princess said she’s okay with it, but I’ll need to reach out to Principal Brightstar once I’ve got the details sorted. Think of it like a bounty program for spell diagrams. I list an idea, offer a bounty, put some stipulations like magic cost in there, and submission get payouts if they work.”

“Huh,” Ace grunts, “that’s a weird way of doing it. Not a bad idea, though.”

“Yep. Hopefully I’ll identify a good sorcerer or two. I have ideas; if they can make ‘em possible I’ll make them richer than they ever dreamed. It’s not important right now,” he insists, flipping his wing in dismissal.

“I know today’s your day to catch up on work, so I’ll get out of your manes. One last heads-up; I’ll be living here attending CSGU next year, so if y’all ever need healing, dental, or vision then let me know. I’ll be making arrangements to do my cosmetic work after school, too, so if yer interested in getting anything done, there ya go.”

“Finally, and this part is confidential for now, but keep in mind, biomanipulation… Alicorn of Life,” he reminds them. He lifts his broad wings and flips the mental Crystal Pony switch on, sparkling in blue and green, “there’s a lot I can do that I don’t advertise, and for select, privileged clients like yourselves, those special services are negotiable,” he finishes, cutting the effect back off.

The two attorneys are silently gaping at the sudden display. Ace swallows thickly as she slowly nods. Moon Rose coughs to clear her throat and tactfully says, “We’ll keep that in mind if we need anything.”

“Cool. Always a pleasure, ladies,” he says, quickly changing his appearance back to match the lieutenant. Knowing a good mic drop line, he opens the door, tucks his horn away, and trots out of the room.

Lt. Spear dutifully follows, wishing the attorneys a good day on her way out.

“Daaaaamn,” Ace slowly breathes out once they’re gone.

“Yeah,” Moon quietly agrees.

“You think in about six years I could ask him to stud for me?”

“Ace!”

“What?! That’s good stock right there,” she insists, waving at the empty seat. “Technically, that’s the best stock in the world, as far as I know.”

Moon lets out a sigh and shakes her head at her partner, even if she can’t help but acknowledge the truth of the statement.

Finally at her wit’s end, Spear asks, “How are you doing that so fast?”

Cure turns his head slightly, careful to keep one eye looking out for other fliers, and raises a single brow in question.

“I’ve seen you change your colors and stuff, but all of the sudden you’re this,” she motions at his new talons and beak, “between one blink and another. Have you just been pretending to need a moment the whole time?”

“Ah. No, but I have been getting a bit faster with practice. I’ve just been using Illusion while changing. Whenever we’ve gone somewhere that I know I’m going to be changing my disguise I’ve put an Illusion over myself, then changed whatever. As soon as I can see nopony is lookin my direction, bam… no more Illusion.”

“But… your horn…”

“Illusion crystal, lieutenant. Besides, for some things I can cast without my horn visible.”

“Oh. Good thinking. Where to next?”

Cure gives the lieutenant the best smile he can manage with a beak. “I’ve asked a few patients about restaurants in town. There’s a nice griffon one over near their embassy,” he waves towards the government administration buildings to the southeast of the castle’s main gate. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to humor me? I don’t see the princess bein eager ta eat meat, even fish, so…” he trails off with a hopeful look.

“You do know that griffons don’t just eat fish, right?”

“Of course. I’ve seen inside enough of ‘em I can tell that.”

“Alright,” she sighs, motioning ahead, “lead the way.”

With an eager grin the colt checks his path and begins to arc to the south. The restaurant is only a few blocks further west than his attorney’s office, so it only takes a moment for them to come in for a landing.

Maestro’s Eatery sits at the corner of a line of other restaurants and shops, but unlike most of its nearby competitors there is no outdoor dining area. A dark red awning lines the front of the building and two large, tinted windows flank either side of a single dark walnut door. The restaurant’s name is written on both windows in an elegant golden script.

“Ooo! Fancy,” he mumbles as he pulls the door open. The interior is darkly lit and, the more Cure sees, the more he’s surprised a restaurant this nice is even open for lunch. He can only assume the nearby griffon embassy must generate enough business, somehow, to have earlier hours than most finer dining establishments. Either that or they open early on Fridays, a not unlikely assumption given that most creatures don’t work a full forty hours each week.

A hostess podium shaped like half of a hexagon is staffed by a quite pretty eagle hen in a dark brown vest. She takes in the colt and the lieutenant, immediately noticing their matching coloration. “Just two?”

“Yes ma’am,” Cure happily chirps.

At Spear’s nod the hen gives them a smile, sticks a couple menus under her left wing, and motions for them to follow. The restaurant is somewhat busy; more than half of the thirty-odd tables are occupied and, overwhelmingly, the patrons are griffons just as Cure had expected. Several bat families are present, something he feels like he should have expected given their omnivorous dentition. A few day ponies and a single hippogriff have joined a few other griffons at the bar and appear to be well on their way to an early evening.

The pair are escorted towards a line of tables just beside the bar. He once again notes that the lighting is a whole lot lower than any of the restaurants he’s been in before; the only source being a few skylights mainly situated around the bar area. There are light fixtures in the ceiling, but none of them are on at the moment.

Earth ponies and unicorns would probably have a bit of a hard time reading the menu, but then there’s also small, mostly ornamental candles sitting on each table that could provide enough light that they should be okay.

Upon showing the pair to their table, the hen sets down the menus, then fetches a booster for the colt, setting it beside his apparent dam instead of across from her. Cure hops up and gives the lieutenant a quick nuzzle, then cracks open the menu. The colt is delighted to find that bacon is, indeed, available with some meals as well as a la carte.

He’d wondered if venison may show up on the menu, but even if there are non-sapient deer that’s apparently a little too close to home for some creatures to stomach. He doesn’t doubt some griffons would happily eat it, sapient source or not, but shipped-in meat is occasionally inspected, so having anything that may have been able to say no is definitely not allowed in Equestria.

The server that approaches could very well be the hostess’ sister; her colors and facial features are remarkably similar and she looks about the same age. Lt. Spear orders the fish and chips and, when the hen looks to Cure, he makes a special request. “I would like, literally, one of every kind of meat you offer,” he tells her, sliding two stacks of five hundred-bit coins on the table.

The hen looks at the stacks, brow raised in surprise, then turns to the lieutenant with a questioning look. She gives a helpless shrug and motions back to the colt who continues, “Despite our colors, my guardian here is not my dam or mother.

“I’m from out of town and, where I am from, I almost never get to have meat, so I want to try everything as long as it’s cooked. Hay, I’d even love to come have a look in the kitchen if it’s allowed,” he adds, sliding another couple coins beside the stacks and giving the hen a pleading look. “Don’t worry about anything going to waste; I’m a growing colt, or in other words, a bottomless pit.”

“I…” she hesitates, shocked at the odd request and the significant amount of money on the table. “I’ll go check with my manager. One second!” Despite hurrying off, she doesn’t hesitate to scoop up the coins before bolting.

As soon as she’s out of earshot the lieutenant learns closer and sternly demands, “What are you doing?”

“Sampling the food?” he answers as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “I can eat it all, don’t worry. I really am a bottomless pit. I ate a tree once.”

“Not just that. Why do you want… a tree?!”

“Maybe a third of one,” he says with an extremely toothy smile that looks very out of place in a beak. “It did take me a while to digest that, though. It was the night I first made my suit and I needed the material.”

Spear takes in the explanation with a bewildered look, not exactly sure how that works and equally unsure she wants to know. “That aside, why do you want to see the kitchen? Are you worried it’s not clean or something?”

“Oh, no, not at all. It wouldn’t matter to me if it was anyhow. To a degree, I suppose. I want to see if I can scan whatever it is they have back there before it’s cooked. You heard me at the lawyers. This is a successful restaurant. What better way is there to find out what griffons like?”

She huffs out a sigh, once again shaking her head in exasperation at the colt’s antics. It only takes a few minutes before the waitress returns with an extremely excited looking tom beside her, and Lt. Spear can only pray to the maker that she isn’t going to be here all day.

“Three maker damned hours!”

“It wasn’t three hours! Besides, I’m a growin colt! Gotta get my protein, ya know?”

“Where did it all go?! I swear you ate twice your damn weight in meat and your sides aren’t even the slightest bit wider!”

After a very productive tour of the kitchen and the freezer, as well as a quick meeting with the chef, Cure had sat down, cleaned his talons with the offered hot towel, and ate, just as he’d requested, one of almost every cooked meal on the menu, one after another. The look on the waitress’ face was priceless; she would come out with two or three meals on her wing, set them down, go refill his water, and come back to spotlessly cleaned plates only a moment later.

Lt. Spear did her best not to watch after the first few meals. Cure wasn’t disgusting or anything, but the monstrous volume he took in made her gut weep in sympathy. All and all, the colt’s table manners were better than most griffons, even if it took him a moment to figure out how to eat with a beak instead of a mouth. He’s a natural with talons, she noticed, and didn’t have any problem getting by despite the lack of utensils aside from a spoon.

The way his claws nearly flowed through half of a broiled chicken was somewhat terrifying. She’s not sure how he can cut like a griffon or hippogriff can with their magic, but he certainly didn’t have any problem cutting through it like it was air. The way he ate the bones and all was a little upsetting, but after the first drumstick disappeared down his throat with no problem the lieutenant relaxed a little.

After the first hour he had drawn more than a little attention. The patrons at the bar had quickly started taking note of the repeated trips by the waitress, not to mention the steady, continuous pace with which he put everything away. Nocreature approached them despite their hushed conversations.

It was amusing, in a way, that even the griffons seemed a little on edge at Cure’s display. Spear knows that behind closed doors they like to think of themselves as apex predators. Everygriff in the bar seemed to just know; a far more dangerous creature was in their midst, and it was wrapped in the thin guise of a hippogriff foal, wiggling happily in its seat while moaning around a beakful of bacon.

After their meal Cure ordered something called a lava cake to go and the pair went back to the castle. He flagged down a servant and asked that it be delivered to her majesty as soon as possible, then led the lieutenant out to the sparring circles next to the barracks.

“I have a very fast metabolism,” he insists. The pair pause as they survey the area. Drills and training are usually done in the mornings, so aside from a few unicorns plinking away at targets to the south, the area is mostly vacant.

“So… you really want to spar? I know you’ve been practicing hoof to hoof, but have you practiced with a spear at all?”

“I haven’t, but that makes you the perfect teacher for a few reasons. The big one being your mark,” he says with a nod at her flanks. The lieutenant’s mark is a little ambiguous since marks don’t convey scale. It looks more like a depiction of a thrown javelin with two lightning bolts flanking it, all three impacting the same point. The image is rotated so the three objects point directly forwards. “Is your special talent spearwork or javelin throwing?”

“Definitely the former. I’m not a bad shot with a javelin, but I was number one in the division with a spear.”

“Nice. What exactly counts as a spear and what doesn’t? In some ways a javelin is a basic light spear, just shortened, right?”

The lieutenant frowns in thought, tilting her head as she considers the question. “I… guess I never considered that my talent could be either.”

Cure suddenly bursts out in laughter at a stray thought. “We absolutely have to test this. Just imagine if your talent works on spears of all sizes! You may be the most dangerous toothpick wielder in the entire world, lieutenant!”

“That couldn’t possibly work,” she insists.

He shrugs noncommittally and gives his wings a flap, clearing the distance to the closest firing lane. Fully stocked up on biomass, he extrudes a half dozen oak javelins, each only about a meter long. Pony weapons tend to be shorter due to being held in a leg, but thicker so they can be gripped in the crook of a fetlock more easily. More sedately walking over, the lieutenant arrives just as he’s done.

“Let’s see what you got, LT. Oh, and do you mind if I scan you? I can learn your form a lot easier that way.”

“Sure, that’s fine.” She inspects one of the javelins and tosses it in the air a few hooves to test its weight. Apparently adequate, she wraps her right foreleg around it and gets in position. Cure watches intently as she lines herself up with the target, crouches into a three legged pounce, draws the javelin back underneath herself, and spreads her wings forward. In an explosion of movement she leaps forwards, flaps her wings, and mid-pounce, kick-throws the javelin forwards with a shouted “HYAH!”

The missile blasts forwards at a speed Cure had never anticipated.

Though a buck is, by a wide margin, the most powerful kick a pony can deliver, only a fool would assume that’s the extent of striking options available to them. Ponies can kick forwards with their forehooves with an astonishing amount of force; enough that on a solid hit almost any bone hit will snap like a twig.

Even a unicorn can kick far harder than one would expect, and an earth pony with their greater mass, larger hooves, longer legs, and metaphysical strength boost can potentially powder a bone with a good hit. They may crack or split their hoof, which hurts like a motherfucker, but the other fella probably won’t be in a position to take advantage of it.

The javelin barrels into the target, penetrating halfway through. Though not a perfect shot, the lieutenant wasn’t just bragging; the hit landed right on the second ring out, an impressive first shot even if they’re on the short, twenty-five meter lane.

Cure whistles his appreciation and looks at the mare in a new light. She may be exceptionally good compared to most, but the speed and precision was downright fucking impressive. “Well butter my biscuits, LT. There’s a certified hardflank under that pretty mare disguise, ain’t there?”

Spear snorts and starts laughing, nodding her whole neck and head energetically. “That’s almost exactly what my DS said back in basic! You sounded just like her.” She abruptly stops laughing and winces. “That’s not really a good thing.”

“I’m sure your stint as a DS ended with squad after squad buying you ‘#1 Sarge’ mugs,” he incredulously points out.

At least she’s honest enough to not argue. Cure watches as the mare takes another three shots, each one closer to the middle than the last. Worth noting, the center of the target is absolutely not called a bullseye, instead referred to as the “snout” of the target. She picks up the fifth and holds it out to Cure, waving at the target in invitation.

He accepts the javelin and takes her place, mimicking her stance as best he can. His stance, hop, and throw are nearly perfect, but he inadvertently puts a whole lot more umph behind his shot, sending the javelin sailing in a laser-straight line nearly two meters above the target. The projectile explodes into a million splinters against the wall, causing a booming crack to sound out.

A second later a unicorn’s head pokes over one of the crenulations, looks down at the remains, then hones in on the pair. Cure points a hoof at Spear, Spear points her wing at Cure, and the guard rolls his eyes before ducking back and returning to his patrol.

“Maybe a little more precision, less power?” she suggests.

“I’m familiar with the last couple words, but I have no idea what it means when they’re used together like that.”

“Just…” she sighs. “Just take it easy until you get your aim right.”

“Fiiine!” he grouses. “A few more then I wanna spar with ya. I don’t see me ever using a spear, but ya never know. Besides, there’s something I need from you I probably won’t get anywhere else.”

She holds her question while he gets in position. His throw, while still far harder than is necessary, is at least on target. This time coming in a little low, the javelin splits the line of the first ring, blows out the back of the target, and slides across the ground until coming to a stop.

“Maybe make the javelin wider behind the grip,” she suggests. “Good shot, though, especially for only your second try. So… what do you need from me specifically?”

“I need someone that’s not so afraid of hurting me that they won’t actually hit me.”

She blinks as that processes. “Pardon?”

“Look, lieutenant… how many ponies out there think they’re a total hardflank?” He only gives her a second to think about her answer, but continues on before she can voice it. “A lot, I’m sure.”

“Everypony thinks they’re a hardflank right up ‘till they get a hoof to the face. I’ve never actually been hit by anypony, but I at least know how it works. You think yer invincible, that you’ll be able to just shake it off. Then you get hit for real and, suddenly, it dawns in you that you’re not, and getting hit like that shatters whatever notion you had about your inability to lose. You’re either ready for it or you’re not.”

“I… suppose.”

“I can take a hit. I can take a hit that would kill most, in fact, but how many ponies would be willing to, in training, actually take that swing?”

“None should. You’re eight.”

“And you could probably bend a piece of rebar over my forehead and not hurt me. I can make padded spears, but I need to learn not to flinch when I’m about to get clobbered. I need to experience that hit so I can learn to fight through it.

“I’ll start with a helmet if it’ll make ya feel better, but I would consider it a huge favor if you’d teach me to fight and help me train out the reflexes that could cause me, or whoever I’m fighting for, to really get hurt someday. Bruise today so I don’t break tomorrow and all that.

“I know that won’t happen in one session, but it sounds like I’ll be back every so often, even before I move here next fall. Besides, I know the thought of bashing me in the head had’ta come up at least a few times today. Well…” he gives her a big smile and waves to the sparring rings, “here’s your chance.”

Training with the lieutenant went exceedingly well. Cure didn’t show her how to use her cutie mark just yet; he’s waiting for the princess to figure out how to start teaching that to ponies, but he suspects this is a case where, even passively, the mare is better with a spear than anypony could be without decades of experience.

Spears are absolutely one of those weapons that is easy to use, but still takes a lot to master. That’s doubly true when a sharp metal blade is affixed. A glaive may technically be a different weapon, but Cure suspects the LT could be just as good with one as she is javelins, and that’s definitely something he’d like to see the results of. Between her and Sgt. Song he has two weapons specialists he could potentially learn from.

The two had sparred for the better part of two hours, which is a lot of training when the only breaks needed were for water and to give her a refresh. They ducked in the barracks for a quick shower and a relaxing bath afterwards. Although she was welcome to come to dinner at the palace, she demurred, citing the need to get home since her shift is done for the day.

The pair split up in the castle entryway with Cure thanking her profusely for putting up with him all day. He wrapped her in a hug before she took off for home and he was informed dinner should be ready soon. He finds the princess just as she’s getting seated at the head of her dinner table. To his slight surprise, she is not alone.

“Evenin’, princess!” he shouts, trotting up to the ancient mare and wrapping her in a side hug, which she eagerly returns with her wing. The familiar move surprises Prince Blueblood and his wife, but their foals just look on in envy. He isn’t sure why; Celestia hugged Vladimir the forty-fifth, or as he’s mentally labeled him, Senior, the first time without any hesitation at all. Maybe the foals just never tried to give her a hug before, but Cure can’t imagine she’d be anything less than thrilled to do so.

“And a wonderful evening to you, as well, Serpentus. I must thank you for the treat earlier. I have not had something like that…” she blinks in thought for a second, “ever, I believe.”

“Oh! Great! It’s really good with a couple scoops of vanilla ice cream, but I knew they would melt so I had ‘em hose it down in whipped cream, which is the next best thing if ya ask me.” Before he risks offending anypony, Cure releases the princess and gives the prince a respectful nod. “Greetings, your highness, Lady Due, everypony. Sorry if I kept everypony waiting, I didn’t know you were joining us for dinner.”

Cure is barely even seated before staff start bringing out dinner salads and setting them in front of everypony.

“Oh think nothing of it, Serpentus,” Senior responds with a dismissive wave as Cure settles in on the princess’s left. Blueblood is to her right, then his wife and foals fill in on his right side in order of age. “What’s this about a treat?” he curiously asks.

“Apparently Serpentus took Lt. Spear to a restaurant that I have not visited. He brought back a very unique cake; a chocolate one with a center that was some kind of melted chocolate. It was absolutely fantastic!”

“My, that does sound intriguing,” Senior agrees.

Noble Due asks, “What was the name of the restaurant? Was the food good as well?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. I tried almost one of everything. Maestro’s Eatery,” he points east with a wing, “just a few blocks to the east.”

Celestia coughs, mid-bite, quickly grabbing her water to wash down her food.

“Woah, one salad ta go!” Cure laughs.

She finally chokes down her food and turns to scowl at the chuckling colt. “If I’m not mistaken, that is a griffon restaurant, right?”

“Yep! There were a few bat families there, too. I wish I had realized there would be bats ‘cause I’ll tell ya what, eating with a beak is a pain in the rear. I ended up havin ta give myself teeth again.”

“Sorry,” Noble interrupts, “I’m afraid I do not understand. A… beak?”

“Oh. I was going around in disguise, though I admit it I kinda blew that when the lady at Tinkerer’s Treasure was a jerk. Just gimme a sec.” Cure leans back and extends a wing in front of his face for a moment and quickly alters his snout back to a beak and his forehooves into talons.

He moves his wing, smirking as best he can at the collective gasps, and holds it out to the side as he changes his colors back to the lieutenant’s again. He reaches up and runs his talons over his horn, briefly obscuring their view as he retracts it into his mane.

Disguise complete, he holds his legs and wings out wide. “Ta daa!”

“You’re a… hippogriff?” Azure Tiara asks.

He shrugs and wobbles a set of talons in a so-so motion. “Appearance-wise, but I’m still an alicorn, even if I have claws. Talons. Whatever. The beak,” he taps said feature, “sucks to eat with, as I was saying. Ya can’t really chew with it, ya know?” He leans forward and tilts his head up, holding the top part open. Everypony leans forwards curiously to see what he’s pointing out. “No teef. Thee?”

He closes his beak and sits back, continuing, “So, yeah… they can’t chew much at all. Instead they have to cut things up with their claws, then kinda mince ‘em with their tongue spines.” He picks up a piece of lettuce, turns his claws over, and drops the leaf on one. It passes over the talon, split in two, without slowing at all.

Both parents pale slightly; an impressive feat given how white they already are. At least the foals seem fascinated with the colt. Both daughters mumble soft “Oh my!”s at the display.

“Goodness!” Junior gasps, “Just how sharp are those?”

“I can sharpen or blunt them at will with my talent. One sec,” he calls, focusing on some of the material in his bit pouch. He reaches back and pulls three blocks of wood out of his mane. Each is nearly forty centimeters long, ten wide, and only a few tall.

Everypony watches in fascination as he extends his horn, then levitates the blocks in front of him and reshapes them into fixed-length, single-sided blades with long shafts for the grips.

He etches his cutie mark into the blades’ sides and begins to explain, “If I’m doing the math right, the density of the wood is about a quarter of the alloy I’m using, so I need the blade and grip attachment to be four times the final product’s size.” He takes a crystal out of his mane and, three small flashes later, the blades are much smaller and no longer wood, but a shiny silver metal.

He withdraws more wood and crafts, then affixes the handles, or rather, grips, as well as a small pommel, then makes three scabbards to safely sheathe the blades. He floats the three over to Senior and says, “I would put a Durability crystal in the grip. I left a small spot for it here at the base. Sharpening just isn’t necessary; they literally cannot get any sharper.”

He looks at the three stunned foals and waves at the knives, “A gift for the three of you. They’ll make a great letter opener, but they’ll cut through you just as easily as paper, so be careful.” Dumb nods are his only response.

Everypony has stopped eating. Cure notices several waitstaff watching curiously, having witnessed the display of craftsponyship and magic.

“May I?” Celestia asks Blueblood. He passed one over with a nod. Celestia uses her horn to unsheath a blade and examines the metal intently. “It’s not steel,” she prompts, turning to the colt with an upraised brow.

“An aluminum-titanium alloy. Transmutation is complete and total b… uhh, it’s super unfair. Me and one of my fillyfriends have been doin some experimenting with different alloys. I’m not sure how well it’ll keep its edge and it’ll suck to sharpen, but it’s a very tough, lightweight metal. Not as good as high-hardness steel, but that’s boring.”

“Hence your suggestion of the crystal,” she nods in understanding.

“Right. If it ever stops cutting as well, then maybe switch to a Sharpening one. It’ll never rust and you’ll have to put some serious effort into breaking one.”

“A fantastic dowry, Serpentus,” she teases with a faint smile. “First you adopt the griff appearance, then you propose in their culture’s way. Congratulations.”

Junior snorts a laugh but the girls look near panicking until everypony else starts laughing too. “Har, har, boss. I’m not shooting for a double digit wife count, though, no matter what my sire suggests.”

The princess resheaths the blade and passes it back to Senior. “A lovely present nonetheless. Mayhaps a somewhat unusual one for a couple young fillies, at least in this day and age, but such a thing would certainly be the envy of many young foals, especially with your mark upon it.”

“Indeed!” Senior boisterously shouts, “They are truly marvelous, Serpentus. I must thank you for such a wonderful gift.” The others are quick to echo the stallion’s thanks, which Cure courteously accepts.

“You’ll forgive us if we hold off on letting Tiara and Twilight have them for now, I hope,” Noble adds.

“I can have mine, right?” Junior pleads.

“As long as you’re careful, dear,” she answers. She turns back to Cure and explains, “My husband and son have trained with dueling blades. I believe some basic lessons for our daughters would be wise beforehoof.”

“Definitely,” he easily agrees. “Hey, uh… wait, when you’re both in a room how do you want to be addressed?” he asks, motioning between the two stallions.

“Senior and Junior in informal settings, normally,” Senior answers.

“Cool, that’s what I was doing mentally anyhow. Sorry, I think I kinda messed up the timing on the meal here. Gimme a sec to change back,” he says, covering his face with a wing again. He reverts his muzzle and hooves, then adjusts his colors back to his Serpentus guise before folding his wing back.

“So, yeah, like I was saying, eating with a beak stinks. You don’t get all the flavors from food since you’re not chewing it up as much. Drinking is way worse; you basically have to dip yer beak in and suck the water up like a straw. I would definitely go as a bat next time instead.”

Misty Twilight cocks her head to the side and asks, “How exactly are you doing that?”

“My talent lets me change my form pretty easily,” he explains. “I’m blocking your sight with a wing because unlike other kinds of magic, there is no bright flash or anything. Some ponies don’t like seeing it, even though it really isn’t like… grotesque or anything. Bunnies, especially bunnicorns, are a hit with the ladies, lemme tell ya,” he says, leaning over to nudge the princess.

She pouts and turns away, but Senior seems to have heard about the incident. “That was you?!”

“Yep!”

“My word. A versatile talent, indeed.”

Senior proceeds to tell the story he’d heard to his family while the princess huffs and pretends to be annoyed. Nopony is buying it at all; she clearly finds it just as amusing as everypony else. Cure takes the opportunity to inhale his salad, catching up to everypony else that had been eating while he’d been talking away.

The table pauses conversation as the entree is brought out. Salad plates are removed and silverware is swapped for clean sets. The dish isn’t as fancy as the one he and everypony else had been served the one night, but that’s fine by him.

The entree is a broccoli alfredo pasta with a sprinkling of parmesan cheese and some parsley for a garnish. A few sun-dried tomatoes and some corn are added in, something he’s never seen before. The corn adds a little crunch-like texture but the tomatoes he could do without. Split loaves of buttery garlic bread are set at each place and drinks are topped off. The wait staff also bring out a bottle of wine, a glass of which is poured for each adult.

Everypony begins eating quietly for a few moments until Senior finally speaks up. “So I understand you have had an incredibly busy week, Serpentus. How are you faring?”

“Pretty good, actually. The night shift I worked on Wednesday for the bats kinda sucked, but I’ve been getting used to waking up early for training on Saturday anyhow. Today was a heck of a lot of fun and I even had time to stop in and say hay to a couple ponies I haven’t seen since last year. Professional contacts,” he quickly adds. “I don’t know many ponies here in the capital yet.”

“Something we must remedy!” Senior declares, waving a hoof in the air. “It’s a shame you aren’t closer in years to my son. It may be presumptive of me, but I am guessing you have little experience golfing?”

Cure exaggerates a cringe and admits, “I don’t have any.”

“Well, we simply must get you acquainted with the sport! Perhaps when you move here more permanently you would like to join Junior for a round up in Brightwood. As you may surmise, there simply isn’t sufficient space for a course here in the city, but the flatter land to the northeast is ideal, and at your age it’s absolutely crucial that you have an opportunity to meet the up and coming movers and shakers of your generation.”

“Darling,” Noble calls as she sets a hoof on her husband’s foreleg, “I’m sure when he is older such opportunities will present themselves.”

“Ah! Yes,” he energetically nods, “Quite right. I’m sure you’re famished. Please forgive my eagerness. It is not often I get to introduce young colts to the game, and I understand you have a fondness for physical activities.”

“Saw me sparring with the lieutenant, huh?”

All six heads nod. “From what little I saw,” Celestia begins, “you seemed to improve quite quickly. Lt. Spear is a formidable adversary with her weapon of choice.”

“She mopped the ring with me,” he argues. With a shrug he adds, “I wholeheartedly expected her to, but still. I only got her once,” he pouts.

The ancient mare seems shocked he even managed that. “You succeeded in landing a clean hit?”

“Ehh,” he wavers, wobbling his hoof side to side, “I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘clean.’ I caught her spear in my teeth and whacked her while she was gawking.”

All three foals laugh while the adults look mildly horrified.

“In… your… teeth?” Senior slowly asks.

“Oh yeah, totally. It’s not like I have to worry about messing mine up. My teeth are tougher than a dragon’s. It certainly caught her off guard enough to work. You know what they say about dumb ideas, right?”

“I can think of a few things, but do tell.”

He uses his spoon like a teacher’s pointer, bobbing it on each word, “If a dumb idea works, it ain’t a dumb idea,” and gives the family a firm nod. The parents nod slowly, not seeming to completely agree, while the foals shake in laughter at the image of an alicorn latched onto a spear like a growling dog. Celestia shakes slightly in laughter, but doesn’t speak up. Cure doesn’t miss the amused twinkle in her eye, though.

“Anywho, I learned a lot and even though I don’t see me spearfighting very often it’s nice to know. A lot of moves can be done with just a staff, after all. So, you all do anything fun today?”

“Today was rather uneventful for us,” Blueblood responds. “I spent much of the morning meeting with colleagues at the Rose Lounge. Perhaps when you are a little older Junior can introduce you there as well.”

His wife chimes in next. “I had a meeting this afternoon at the museum. I am unsure if you’re aware, but I sit on the board of the Canterlot Institute of Art. We’re planning an exhibit in celebration of impressionists of the early fourth century this fall, so there’s much to do in preparation.”

God that sounds just dreadful. “Neat.”

“You know how my morning went,” Celestia sighs. “I would have much rather accompanied you, but there’s much to do in preparation for next Saturday, as you can imagine.”

“I’m not sure I can, princess. I’m pretty sure I don’t even know where to start. What about you three? Get into anything fun today?”

“I myself was visiting with a friend this afternoon,” Junior answers. “We had lunch and toured some of the gardens up in the northeast towards the rise of the plateau.”

Misty leans forward and covers the size of her muzzle with a hoof, mouthing “His fillyfriend” to Cure.

Azure pokes her younger sister with a fetlock, then turns back to the colt. “Missy and I had dance and voice lessons this afternoon. Do you dance, Serpentus?”

“Umm… no, not really. I’m willing to bet more than a few bits that even if I do, my version of dancing probably isn’t what you practiced today.”

“Really?” Celestia interrupts, “I seem to recall your mother bragging about a certain performance when you visited last time. If I recall correctly, you even said you may be willing to show me when next you visited.”

Cure feels his ears fall at the reminder. He’ll have to remember to get Title back for that ballet comment. “Ahh… fudge, she did, didn’t she?”

The evil mare smiles broadly and nods. “I’ve been absolutely dying to see it. Dear Noble Due is an accomplished violinist. Perhaps she would be willing to provide the music for you after dinner?”

“Oh! I would be delighted!” she eagerly accepts. Both Bluebloods are nearly shaking in their seats, laughing quietly at the way the mares all ganged up on the poor colt.

“I’m so excited,” Cure flatly intones. “Eh, whatever. It’s far from the most embarrassing thing I’m sure I’ll ever do. Maybe afterwards the two of you,” he nods to the daughters, “can even show me a move or two, hmm?”

Misty shoots him a pout, but her older sister gives an indifferent shrug and nods in agreement.

“Wonderful!” Celestia cheers, bouncing in her seat.

The dance he had performed for his sisters was basically an aerial, two-legged, poor pony’s version of Swan Lake. Black Swan is the only interaction with anything resembling ballet Ed had ever experienced; something he’d only been willing to endure to because Cyndi wanted to see it and, more importantly, he wasn’t going to say no to watching Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis fucking.

It didn’t magically unlock Cyndi’s latent bisexuality, but he didn’t exactly have high hopes of steamy threesomes as a result anyhow. Three stars, overall. It didn’t get any better the second or third time he was dragged to it, either, but it did make him wonder if finding a double for one of the leads may do the trick. It’s a shame he never managed to find that unicorn.

Regardless of another life’s missed opportunities, Cure, clad in a white pony version of a leotard, and with a matching snow white color from snout to tail, hooves included, is laid on his barrel. His large, nearly glowing wings are spread wide; his right covering his front, his left twisted to cover where the right stops, across his back. His tail is tucked underneath and his neck and head are twisted to his side, so at a casual glance the only thing visible is a solid white dome of feathers.

The group had moved to one of the larger gathering halls; the one he suspects is used for the annual gala which he is strongly considering attending. Dawn would be delighted to accompany him, as would Rising, he suspects. The others… not so much, probably. Glacial may, but he’s confident Ferric, Heavy, and Coast would decline.

He’s not sure he would even want to invite Sapphire, though she would almost certainly be thrilled to attend and embarrass the shit out of him. The princess may get a kick out of it, but he’s not sure if she would really invite somepony just to “liven up the party” like she did in the show. Of course, after another ninety years of the same event even he would probably consider it.

Drift… he’s not sure. On one hoof, she may want to go just to try a bunch of “high class” food. Also, he knows that even the most tomcoltish fillies like to be prettied up like princesses on occasion, so who knows? On another hoof, he can easily imagine her laughing in his face at the mere suggestion.

The princess, prince, and three foals are all watching with eager anticipation, curious as to what the colt is capable of. Noble Due, using a borrowed violin that she found “adequate,” fortunately knows the music that Cure was able to hum a few bars of. She was kind enough to play the piece for him once so he could plan out exactly what he’s going to do.

It’s either the same or close enough to the music he recalls that he figures he can work with it. He wonders how exactly a piece by a Russian composer that lived two hundred years before Ed was born managed to cross the universal boundary, but such things just seem to happen in this world, so he spends little time pondering it.

Noble puts wand to string, the lightest touch sounding loudly in the hall. Several servants had quietly gathered to witness the event as well, and, when silence fills the room, she begins to play.

A rush of purple creeps up the colt’s feathers from the floor with the initial notes. In the low lit room, the dark colors mixed with Crystal Pony glistening dimly flash the audience, earning him a round of surprised, if quiet, gasps. The soft melody begins as shades of green and blue creep up his wings like a spectrum analysis, climbing into yellows as tone lightens.

Cure begins slowly moving his wings with the tone, lightly raising and lowering them like a composer as he glides his body left and right, seeming sliding across the floor in short, silent movements with the music while rising to his hooves.

He’s still hidden under his wings, though the colors continue to shift in tune with Noble’s playing. With grace and smoothness few ponies have ever seen, he turns and sways, gliding with the music, his hooves making no sound on the marble floor.

At a minute in he prepares for the shift, facing the audience and coming to a stop. As Noble adjusts and deepens the tone he throws his wings wide, inverting his colors to a solid black. Hues of red and brilliant orange outline his darkened shape as he rears up and pirouettes, on a single hoof, raising and lowering his forelegs, wings, and barrel with the music as his colors continue to flow and change, erupting from his chest and the center of his back.

He seamlessly moves with the tune, reaching and twisting, kicking and bowing, positioning his wings like a pinwheel and rotating himself on a single hoof as the piece approaches the crescendo. Colors explode across his form, erupting from his core and flaring out his wings and down his legs. Purples, blues, greens, yellows, oranges, and reds stream up his neck and over his head, lighting the hall in a rainbow of sound and harmony, all building up to an explosion of red as he moves with speed, hopping and spinning to follow Noble’s lead.

Just as he’d built up to the crescendo, he slowly winds back down, shrinking back on himself as the music slows and using the darker part of the spectrum until, with the last movement of her bow, a single, solid black colt, laying in a heap of spread obsidian feathers, stills on the floor of the hall.

Silence, once again, fills the room.

“My… WORD!” Celestia erupts, clapping her hooves energetically. Blueblood, his foals, the serving staff, and even the guards follow suit, stomping and clapping loudly as the colt reverts his colors to his brown and gold, stands, spreads his wings wide, and bows to the audience.

“Thank you! Thank you! I’ll be here all week!” he jokes.

“That was phenomenal, C… Serpentus,” Celestia cheers, catching herself before she slipped. “I admit, I had expected a rather amateurish display, but… by the stars and my sun, that was amazing!”

“Indeed it was!” Noble shouts in agreement. “You absolutely must perform sometime, Serpentus! I cannot wait to tell my colleagues about this! The colors, the fierce, energetic moves! And such grace from a colt! I had no idea!”

“Uhh… please don’t tell anypony. I’m willing to do stuff like that on a bet or a dare, or for close friends on rare occasions, but performing in front of thousands?” He violently shakes his head no. “Hard pass.”

“You must at least come to class with us!” Tiara insists. “The dance was amazing, but with a little practice you could be a sensation! Would you at least consider coming just once?” Her sister joins in with the big puppy dog eyes, pleading along with her in a begging tone.

“Ah fudge,” he quietly curses.

“I’m afraid he will not have time for quite a while,” Celestia thankfully bails him out. With a mischievous smile she adds, “Perhaps he could join you on occasion when he is attending school next year. I’m sure he has a fillyfriend or two that would absolutely love to see him dance as well.”

The ancient mare isn’t even slightly fazed by his pouty trembling lip, smiling so broadly even her teeth are showing. It’s a beautiful smile, he’ll grant, but it’s definitely more malicious than he’s become accustomed to.

Misty Twilight takes the opportunity to hop down off her couch and canter out to the colt, beating out her older sister as the first to get to show him some moves. Cure folds his wings back, bows lightly to his partner, and prepares for his first lesson; the whole time considering how he may, some day, find a way to get even with the princess for this whole debacle.

The audience mostly disperses as the two get underway. Dancing, for ponies, is quite a bit different than it is for humans. Cure feels like that should be obvious, but with so many parallels between the world and the one from his memories, he kind of expected this one to line up nicely as well. For unicorns and earth ponies, virtually everything is done on four hooves. Though earth ponies can rear and stay up with raw power, pegasi dances are the only ones that involve staying on two hooves for long.

The dances that Twilight, then later Tiara, show the colt remind him mostly of square dancing or the kind of dances Ed had seen in movies set centuries long ago. For most, the participants are either side-to-side or, for the more intimate ones, touching chest-to-chest. For the latter, each partner is slightly to the right, placing their partner on their left. For the former, the stallion is to the mare’s right, which is a little odd to Cure.

He can only assume it’s some kind of “ownership” thing, for lack of a better term. The mare being on the stallion’s left side signifies her importance to him, while him being on her right marks him as her stallion. Gender roles aren’t really a big thing anymore, so it doesn’t matter at all to him, but it’s still an interesting tidbit.

To the colt’s relief, neither girl was overly affectionate with him. He half expected his performance to win one over, but cliches don’t always play out, even on Equus, so he spends the evening dancing, chatting, and, in a way, playing with the girls as the parents, older son, and the princess watch on and critique.

With the promise of a hot bath and a good night’s sleep before returning to the grind, Cure is overall pleased with how well his day off has gone.

Author's Note

I'll go ahead and admit right now - I've inserted a few chapters in that I was previously not going to. 71: Talent Show (obviously, which I don't really even count) but also the visit to RP's place in 70 was originally going to happen off-screen. Bits and pieces of 74 and 76 were going to be tied into what is now next week's chapter and this entire one wasn't going to exist at all. 75 was going to happen mostly off-screen too, which I think would have been a mistake. Obviously. Hence the chapter. (Duh).

Anywho, lots of things would have only been referenced that I ended up flushing out much more thoroughly in entire chapters and the result is that we get to see a whole lot more happen rather than just hearing about it after the fact. As a reader I would have preferred the former, so there ya go. The downside is that the next two chapters are coming later as a result, and the coronation one (79) won't land until I get back from my upcoming hiatus. I will warn you all right now, I have a major life change coming up that may cause problems with my schedule at some point in the near future. I'm hoping not, but things can be unpredictable, so who knows?

So, what to expect for the next month or so... 78 will arrive as scheduled next week (8/21), then I'll be off for 3, so no chapters on 8/28 (I'll be about 2000 miles from home), 9/4, and 9/11 (only 700ish miles from home, scrub). Expect 79 on 9/18, then hopefully we'll get back to normal.

As always, thanks for reading and, especially, commenting. Enjoy!