Saturday, June 20th, 909 AB (A few minutes later)

“Are ya sure we shouldn’t be doin this in a meeting room or something? I feel like I’m kinda rubbin their noses in it, ya know?”

“They won’t look at it that way,” she assures him. “The throne room is a perfectly appropriate setting for your first meeting, especially if they have any doubts regarding your position,” she insists as she pulls him against her side with a wing. “They must see you as their prince before anything else, and what better way to show them than having you right here by my side?”

“True… true,” he grants. “Hey, I never got a chance to remove those additions from this morning. Want me to do that now?”

Celestia considers it for a moment before nodding. “Please. I rarely drink, but should the occasion arise when I desire a bottle I would prefer to be able to enjoy it fully.”

Cure furrows his brow and looks up at the princess. “You coulda just said ya wanna get a little buzzed on occasion, boss. Nopony’s judgin ya. Ready?”

Celestia sniffs dismissively and looks away. “I don’t want to get buzzed,” she insists, “but it is nice to be able to relax after a long day from time to time.”

“Mmhmm, sure thing, boss. Going,” he warns, activating his talent and removing the arterial filters. “Funny thing; back when I first got my mark I had joked with my dam about making edibles that would do the same as alcohol, just with less unhealthy side effects.”

The princess cranes her neck to cock a brow at him. “It sounds like you are describing drugs of some kind.”

“Alcohol is a drug. Ointments are drugs. Depending on your definition, salt could be considered a drug,” he starts to argue.

He opens his mouth to continue but pauses when she interrupts with a barely upraised hoof. “I was merely making an observation. If you have a way to create an alternative to alcohol that is less deleterious to one’s health then, by all means, feel free to do so.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, unprepared for such a complete lack of challenge.

“It can be submitted for approval in the same manner as your other inventions. Just ensure that it is not easily abused. While I have no qualms with anypony enjoying a drink, I’m sure you’ve seen what happens when somepony overindulges.”

The somber nod he gives is answer enough.

“Given the relative ease with which you created your trees, I would ask that you work with the physicians in Baltimare to create all manner of medication, in fact. I find it likely that many with adverse side effects could be replaced or improved with your assistance.”

“Yep. That’s on the list. I’m sure Dr. Care is gonna have plenty for me. Hopefully the hospital won’t be completely overwhelmed with special requests for treatment. Director Storm said they would prioritize severe cases, but if somepony coughs up the bits and hops on a train without the involvement of the Health Authorities I’m still gonna see ‘em.”

She dips her head in an understanding nod. “As long as you are not overdoing it,” she trails off in warning. She turns back to look at her seneschal as he pulls open the door.

One by one, immaculately dressed ponies enter the room, the first a pair of unicorns with their heads held high. “Announcing their graces, Duke and Duchess Suncrest, the esteemed Marchioness Gulfwing, Marquis Merryland, Marchioness Yorkshire, and Marquis Tailahassee.”

The small procession takes its time entering the long room walking two abreast, giving Cure ample opportunity to survey the group. The duke is slightly overweight, a commonality amongst unicorns, though underneath the excess there are signs of well developed musculature that the colt has come to associate with ponies that have served.

His deep orange coat and red mane are similar to Dawn’s, though the red is a deeper shade approaching burgundy or maroon instead of her crimson. Unlike the vast majority of ponies, Duke Suncrest has legitimate facial hair; he sports the classic “imperial” style mustache in the same shade as his mane. In the colt’s opinion it looks far more silly than anything he would consider dignified.

His wife has the typical “city pony” look one would expect from a mare that has led an easy life. While she is not overweight at all, she shows little to no evidence of exercising with soft features and a petite frame. The hat, white dress, and red sash reminds Cure of something straight out of Mary Poppins. It looks nice and all, but the colt can’t help but think she would look better naked. She has an absolutely stunning golden coat that makes him wonder if she has a Crystal Pony ancestor somewhere in her family tree.

A single look at Marchioness Gulfwing is all it takes for Cure to recognize a military mare. With well defined pectorals and barely an ounce of fat visible anywhere, the cream colored pegasus nearly marches through the room to Marquis Merryland’s right. Her mane is a nearly electric blue and is swept back in a long, braided ponytail ending between her wings. She is the only one in the group wearing nothing.

Marquis Tailahassee is, like the other two stallions, dressed in a smart looking business suit. While Suncrest and Merryland both are a little overweight, the light green stallion’s sides are bulging, straining the buttons on his jacket. Despite being slightly shorter than the other two, he more than makes up for the mass difference with his added girth.

Marchioness Yorkshire walks to his right in a smart, silver dress with crisp folds and straight lines Cure associates more with a business suit than anything. It’s slightly lighter than her mane and matches her dark, black coat quite well. She is nearly as tall as the unicorn stallions and has a willowy frame. She walks with confidence and poise reminding Cure of a strict teacher evaluating her pupils.

Their ages vary with Gulfwing and the Suncrests seemingly in their mid thirties, Yorkshire and Merryland perhaps nearer fourty-five, and Tailahassee the eldest in his mid to late fifties or early sixties.

The group splits a few meters short of the base of the throne with the stallions on the duke’s left and the mares on the duchess’ right. Once lined up they drop into formal bows while simultaneously calling out “Your Majesties” in greeting. Unlike every Earth culture Cure can think of, gendered pronouns and titles typically default to female when one is in the group, so while Cure’s brain ticks at the female address, he doesn’t let it show at all.

“Rise,” Celestia commands, allowing them to stand before the pair. “Good morning to you all.”

Various replies of “Good morning, your majesty” sound out from the group.

“Oh come now, let us be done with the pageantry and formality,” she insists, flicking her right wing in dismissal. The ponies all relax their postures, but only the Suncrests and Tailahassee dispel their stoic expressions. “There! Much better. Allow me to introduce you all to Prince Serpentus. Serpentus, I believe you know everypony’s name, correct?”

“I do. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Since you are all the leaders of this nation, I don’t believe a disguise is necessary,” he says, reverting his colors to his typical sky blue and light green. He keeps his new cutie mark in place as he climbs down off the throne, walking down the ramp towards the duke, and extending his hoof in greeting. “Duke Suncrest, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. When we’re in private feel free to call me by my given name, Cure Wave, or simply Cure if you prefer.”

The stallion smiles broadly and reaches out, bumping the shorter colt’s hoof. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, young stallion,” he says in a posh Canterlot accent. “I hope we can look forward to working together for the betterment of Equestria for many years!”

“Me too!” he happily chirps. “I’ve got lots of ideas, and I’m sure you’ll all be pretty happy with the results once the NHA finishes testing them.”

Cure looks to his left at the duchess and extends his hoof to her as well. When she reaches out to bump hooves he instead loops his under her fetlock, kissing the mare’s pastern before looking up to meet her eyes. “Greetings to you, Duchess Suncrest. I can’t help but wonder… How many times has your husband had to fight off a dragon trying to steal you for their hoard?”

Struck speechless, the golden mare blushes brilliantly as she quietly mumbles, “Oh… oh my!” then breaks down into giggles, demurely hiding her muzzle behind her hoof. Duke Suncrest clearly approves of the flattery of his wife as his smile threatens to split his face. The mare finally gets her wits about her and, though her cheeks still have a faint dusting of pink, she formally responds, “It is wonderful to meet you, Prince… Cure?” she finishes with a questioning lilt.

He nods in response, prompting her to more assertively finish, “Prince Cure, then. Forgive me for asking, but may I know your age?”

“Nine now. I was born almost exactly nine years and ninety minutes ago just as her majesty raised the sun in Baltimare for the Celebration there.”

“Amazing,” she breathily comments. “To be so young and yet so eloquent! We simply must meet to discuss your schooling experiences some day. Oh, but of course you would be wise beyond your years! As any would expect of a true alicorn!” she beams, turning her head slightly towards Marquis Merryland.

The stallion barely reacts, wrinkling his snout before schooling his features under the gaze of a dozen eyes. Tailahassee barks out a single “HA!” and, more subtly, Marchioness Gulfwing quietly blows out a single chuckle. Yorkshire doesn’t respond verbally, but does turn her head to face him more directly, giving the colt an analytical look.

“Young Cure’s experience in school will differ quite a bit from the norm,” Celestia interrupts. “He has already completed the Early Graduation Test, averaging just shy of ninety-eight percent across the five core subjects. He is quite the prodigy for his age.”

“Impressive!” Duke Suncrest cheers. “Quite impressive, indeed!”

“Thank you,” Cure nods in acceptance, moving left to greet Marchioness Gulfwing. The mild snub to his own marquis is not terribly subtle, but he couldn’t care less. “Marchioness Gulfwing, it’s a pleasure. I’ve very much enjoyed the few opportunities I’ve had to take in your city over the last several weeks. It’s a shame that I haven’t really had the time to really visit the sights, but work before pleasure,” he offers with a defeated shrug.

Unlike most cities, Cloudsdale is governed by a Marchioness, owing to its population and unique circumstances. The management of the weather facilities and the movement of the city itself prompted the elevation of the original Count Gulfwing to Marquis several centuries ago.

“Thank you, sir. It’s the most beautiful city in the world,” she proudly declares.

“That may very well be the case,” he agrees before moving to the left again. “Marchioness Yorkshire. I haven’t had the opportunity to travel up north much, but I admit I have more than a passing interest in the exchanges hosted in your fine city.

“My sire specializes in real estate, but I had encouraged him to attend a commodities seminar hosted in Canterlot back in January. If you have an exceptional financial planner I would very much appreciate a referral. I know I’m young, but I’m also well aware that time is the most powerful force in the world.”

The mare cocks a single brow in surprise as she responds, “That’s amazing. So very few foals grasp the importance of planning ahead. To be so young yet so… aware,” she trails off with a hint of awe. She glances left to Merryland then back up to the princess for a moment before turning her focus back to the colt, taking him in fully. After a few seconds of thought she asks, “You truly are the real deal, aren’t you?”

“I am. I understand ponies have doubts. That’s fine,” he says with an indifferent shrug. “Like I’ve said before, everypony can think what they want as long as they keep everything professional.”

“I assure you,” Celestia begins, “Prince Cure is indeed a legitimate alicorn. Though the vast majority of his abilities will not develop for several years, he does already possess a confidential one that no other pony could possibly replicate.”

“Confidential? To even us?” Duke Suncrest questions.

“Yes,” Celestia replies. “There are some abilities that my mentor, Star Swirl the Bearded, advised us to keep in confidence above all others. Regardless, the truth will be undeniable in about five years when his tail and mane start transitioning to an ethereal state.”

The duke’s eyes go wide at the “us” in her statement and, without turning his head away from the princess, he asks, “He knows about…?” and trails off, glancing between the two.

“He does. He is aware of the prophecy regarding her return as well. Harmony granted him insight with his ascension. There are many, many things he knows that I did not need to tell him about.”

“I see. Very well, your majesty. I assure you, any lingering doubts my wife or I had have been thoroughly cast aside!” he declares, his wife nodding in agreement.

“I’ve been thinking on that,” Cure muses. “I can’t send letters like you can yet, but you mentioned being able to send them to me now.”

“An excellent point!” she all but shouts, perking up at the suggestion. Her horn flashes and a piece of paper, ink, and a quill materialize in front of her. Everypony watches raptly as she writes a quick note and her horn glows again, this time igniting the paper. The smoke shoots up into the air, does a loop around the room, collects in front of his horn, and reforms.

Merryland deflates slightly when the spell succeeds. The others nod in approval, happy to see concrete evidence of the colt’s legitimacy.

Cure catches the note in his magic and begins asking, “That’s not something unicorns can…” trailing off as his eyes travel across the page. “I.O.U. two dozen caramels?” he reads aloud. His head snaps up to the throne with a look of disbelief. “You ate my caramels?!” he shrieks to the quiet chuckles of the nobles.

“I wanted a snack.”

“You have servants! Have somepony fetch you some!”

“But they were right there!”

“I hid ‘em inside my tree!”

“Well… maybe next time you should hide them better if you do not intend to share,” she insists, snout raised in haughtiness. “And no, no other tribe can send or receive letters like that.”

Cure growls in frustration at the elder alicorn, though he does manage to regain his composure upon hearing the chuckles from the surrounding ponies. A few more quiet snickers escape the group as he huffs and turns away from her victorious smirk.

He makes his way over to Merryland and reaches out to bump the stallion’s hoof in greeting. “Marquis Merryland. I appreciate your efforts ensuring everypony’s safety and comfort. My family and friends all asked that I also convey their gratitude for the accommodations on their journey here.”

Returning the colt’s bump, Merryland nods in acceptance. “It was my pleasure, your highness. Please don’t hesitate to call upon myself or, upon my retirement, my son as needed. We will continue to serve faithfully, as we always have. And…” he hesitates, blowing out a sigh, “I apologize for any offense that may have arisen in regards to our previous meeting.”

“Apology accepted. Truthfully, I wasn’t upset or offended at all. Water under the bridge,” Cure insists as he gives him a genuine smile and a nod.

He steps past Merryland to Marquis Tailahassee and, as soon as he gets close enough, the stallion energetically thrusts a hoof out and belts out a loud, “Put ‘er there, partner!” in a thick southern accent. “I can’t tell ya how excited I am ta see ya ain’t some snooty what’n’what like most’a these city ponies.

“And maker help me, ya got a way with words, colt!” he shouts with a laugh. “I pity the other colts what live ‘round you, son! I bet you got a whole herd ‘a fillies lookin ta tie ya down!”

Cure smiles sheepishly as he bumps the large stallion’s hoof. “Guilty as charged, my good stallion. Guilty as charged. So tell me, what’s the water like down there between New Horseleans and Tampa Neigh? I’m partial to blue water and white beaches, but all we’ve got in Baltimare are rocks. Rocks friggin everywhere!” he loudly bemoans.

“That ya do, son! If’n yer lookin fer beaches like that then Tampa Neigh is what you want, especially on the west side of the city. If her majesty works ya too hard and ya need a break, you just send a message my way, colt! I got me a spot overlookin the pertiest beach you ever seen just southwest ‘a the city. I’d be downright honored ta host ya whenever ya want!”

“Awesome! I’m sure I’ll take ya up on that sometime. Maybe in a year or two I’ll be able to swing a nice vacation home down there.”

“Ehh, just ta warn ya, waterfront land ain’t cheap.”

“That’s okay, business is booming. By the end of the year I should have almost a half mill saved up, minus whatever I invest in local properties.”

All heads whip his direction as Tailahassee recoils at the number. “What in tarnation are ya doin ta earn that at nine, colt?!”

Cure extends his hoof to the stallion and responds, “Cosmetics. Want to look ten years younger and feel like yer twenty again?”

The stallion doesn’t hesitate to take the offered hoof, gaping as his vision sharpens and all the little aches and pains disappear. “Hold on a sec,” Cure instructs, reaching into his mane to withdraw a paper bag. He passed it to the stallion, telling him, “For your crowns and fillings,” before continuing his work.

The loose pieces of silver break off in the stallion’s mouth and, with as much dignity as one can, he proceeds to spit them in the bag.

“All set, bud,” the colt announces as he takes a step back. “How ya feelin?”

The stallion looks down at his knees as he lowers himself almost to his barrel, then rises back up again. Cure watches as he runs his tongue over his teeth and looks around in wonder, eyes finally landing on the princess. “Fifteen years since mah eyes started failin me,” he bemoans. “What luck ta get ‘em back a’fore the most beautiful sight a stallion could ever hope ta see!” he bellows joyfully.

“Smooth,” Cure quietly compliments.

Celestia rolls her eyes as she giggles, fanning herself with her left hoof. “Surge, you old charmer, you!” she calls in teasing.

He looks back to Cure and gives him a respectful nod. “That answers that just fine. Good on ya, son. Just what all didjya fix, if ya don’t mind my askin.”

“Everything that needed it. I’d recommend a diet change, and with more time I can do more, but I’m still a foal, so despite being an alicorn my magic pool is pretty limited. Give me a few years and that won’t be a problem anymore.”

The stallion nods in understanding. “Now when you say everything…” he leads, trailing off.

The three mares standing to his right each let out a groan or a sigh.

“Everything,” he confirms, then Messages << Your heart was on borrowed time. I fixed it and also that. Alicorn of Life, bud. Enjoy. >>

“Well butter my biscuits, colt. I might just name my next three sons after you.”

“Seaspray, for the love of the maker!” Duchess Suncrest calls in exasperation while facehoofing.

“Yer on your own for that, marquis. At least, for now you are,” he cryptically adds. Spreading his wings, he hops in the air and glides backwards to land at the top of the ramp just in front of the throne. “It’s been great meeting you all.

“I look forward to working with each of you, your daughters, sons, grandfoals, and thereon. No pony is an island. As I said earlier, I cannot do everything. When the day comes that I call upon you, I hope that we can work together to ensure Equestria has a long, bright, and healthy future.”

All six take the dismissal in stride, bowing deep to the alicorns before standing, taking a single step back, and with the Suncrests leading, turn on their hooves to depart. As the door closes behind them, Cure climbs back on the throne and sits by the princess’s left shoulder, leaning bodily against her withers. “That went pretty well,” he comments.

“How many dragons has your husband had to fight off?” she teasingly mocks.

Cure sighs and leans into her with a nuzzle. “Envy is an ugly emotion, even on a beautiful mare, princess.”

Celestia scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Regardless, very well done, Cure. You managed that quite effectively.”

“Thanks, boss,” he says, leaning against her neck. “Tailahassee… Seaspray Surge?” she nods, so he continues, “He seems like quite the character.”

“He always was a mares stallion. If he can get the weight off of him I’m sure he’ll be up to his old antics in no time.”

“Good for him. So, what should I expect from the next group?”

“Much the same, I would expect. Simply be your normal charming self and all should be well.”

Scoffing, the colt flicks a wing in dismissal. “Of course. Duh. How could they not love me? I’m freaking adorable.”

“... Quite right,” she flatly agrees.

The colt’s head swivels to the base of the ramp where the sound of a small cough sounds out. “You gettin a cold there, specialist?”

“Sir, no sir! Must have had something in my throat, sir!”

“Uh huh. That musta been it,” he agrees as the princess’s side shakes in quiet laughter. “Well let’s get this show on the road,” he calls, meeting the seneschal’s eyes and giving him a nod.

The unicorn opens the doors and steps through as Cure settles back into his position on the princess’s side. He presses his right cheek against her shoulder and takes deep breath through his snout, humming in contentment as he nuzzles her side.

She graces him with a smile and asks, “Are you not reverting your appearance?”

“Nah. I’m workin under the assumption that if you trust them enough to put them in such high positions then I should trust ‘em too. That and I don’t want them to think I’m favoring Duke Suncrest’s peerage any more than I am just by residing there.”

She gives him an approving nod. “Good. Despite my nephew’s misgivings, they are indeed trustworthy and highly competent ponies. They know what is expected of them,” she assures him.

“I figured. Also, there’s the fact that my identity leaking at some point is all but inevitable. I’m probably going to be spending as much time as ‘Serpentus’ as I will myself over the next few months just to acclimate everypony in Baltimare to seeing an alicorn walking around. You wouldn’t… Well, you would probably believe the stares I was getting when I went to town hall.”

She lets out a defeated chuckle while nodding. “It’s as if they are waiting for you to do something astounding, even when you are simply walking about, is it not?”

“Yep. I’ve started calling it the ‘Alicorn gape,’” he explains, then mimics the wide-eyed, slack jawed, dumb look he gets when he has gone out.

The two share a quiet chuckle as the door reopens admitting the seneschal who stands to the side and calls out, “Presenting her grace, Duchess Eventide, the esteemed Marchioness Manesota, Marquis Mexicolt, and Marchioness Coltifornia.”

The alicorns quickly school their features and sit up regally as the group enters.

Duchess Eventide, much like Nurse Gentle Heart, has an absolutely gorgeous dark blue coat reminiscent of Luna’s. Her dress is silver like Yorkshire’s was, though is much more elegant and flowy with deep blue stars trailing down the sides. She wears a coronet, earrings, and necklace, all richly decorated in deep blue sapphires.

The unicorn mare walks in the lead, her three peerage members trailing behind her. Manesota is a light blue pegasus mare with a bright yellow mane. Surprisingly, Mexicolt is a muscular earth pony stallion. Like Cure’s great grandsire, he has a light brown coat and much deeper brown mane. The final member of the party is Coltifornia, another unicorn mare; this one with a sandy yellow coat and royal blue mane.

As with Suncrest’s peerage, the duchess approaches the ramp slightly to her left and stops shortly in front of it. The other three align on her right and, once formed up, all of them drop into a bow.

Only Eventide speaks up, calling out a basic greeting to the royals. “Your majesty. Your highness.”

As before, Celestia puts an end to the formalities, introducing the colt to everypony before he hops down off the throne to approach them.

“I take it this is your undisguised appearance?” Eventide inquires.

“Yep! I figured if we’re gonna be workin together you all ought to get to know the real me. Cure Wave,” he says as he offers his hoof in greeting, “or Prince Cure if need be. I’ll keep being Serpentus as long as the alias holds, I hope you understand.”

“Presumably you wish to avoid being accosted while going about in public. I do hope you intend to keep this a temporary arrangement?” she inquires.

“Probably,” he noncommittally agrees. “At least until I’m older. I started doing cosmetic alterations shortly after getting my mark,” he explains. “One of my filly friends is a pegasus and I gave her a bluejay pattern on her wings. A few hours later I had a couple dozen pegasi swarmin my house wanting to get something done as well.”

“The local guard unit had to intervene,” Celestia adds. “And that was prior to the revelation that he could heal as effectively as he can. I’m sure you can all imagine your own foals receiving such attention.”

“Quite burdensome,” the duchess easily agrees, “and yet so incredibly invaluable.”

“That’s me in a nutshell!” he agrees with a nod.

“I find the deception somewhat unbecoming,” Marquis Mexicolt begins. Cure had expected a more casual manner of speaking from the only earth pony leader, but his high-society accent is even more pronounced than the duchess’s is. “While I recognize the desire to maintain your privacy, I would prefer a fellow earth pony to step forward to be an example for all.”

“Me too, and someday I will. I will be around for a long, long time, Marquis. I am sure few will begrudge me for trying to enjoy what little foalhood I’ll have left before that day though.”

The stallion’s features soften as he nods in acknowledgement.

“That’s fine and good, but when are you going to assist our citizens with their foals?” Marchioness Coltifornia demands. “I hope you’re not going to ignore the needs of half the nation.”

“This was his first season since his ascension, Marchioness,” Celestia cooly interjects. “Do not forget, he is but only a foal. He has been here in the capital, away from his friends and family, lending a hoof for over two weeks already. If I recall correctly, your sire did not have you assisting him with his duties until your early twenties, no?”

The mare’s snout scrunches at the admonishment, though she does begrudgingly accept the princess’s point with a nod. “Apologies. I did not intend to pressure his highness unnecessarily. I only wish for my own citizens to receive the same treatment offered to those here in the capital and in Cloudsdale.”

“You’re absolutely right, Marchioness,” Cure agrees, “and if there was a feasible way for me to help everypony I would leap at the opportunity. As I said this morning, I cannot be everywhere. All I can do for now is help where I can and see if anypony has suggestions for ways I can improve the birthing process.

“The Origin Cell Trees I have developed should help immensely with the recovery from caedares procedures, so any mares that have to go through that will, quite possibly, heal even faster than ones that give birth naturally.”

“Wish we’d had those when mine were born,” Manesota confesses, speaking for the first time. “It felt like the doctor cut me all the way to my chin.”

Seeing the opportunity to ingratiate himself to the mare, Cure approaches and offers his hoof. “If there’s any scarring or lingering issues I can fix it easily. I can also shave a few years off you if you’d like.”

The mare looks between him and his hoof for only a second before reaching out. Though he’d used a lot of magic on Tailahassee, Cure’s extra mass has allowed him to recharge enough to clear out any scarring and smooth out her skin and coat. He revitalizes her joints, removes age lines on her face, and re-colors her graying, slightly faded coat, mane, and feathers at the same time.

Duchess Eventide sucks in a breath as a couple decades are casually wiped away from her subordinate, watching in awe as the clock seems to wind backwards on the mare. Manesota’s eyes widen when she spreads her wings and looks over her suddenly brighter colors. “Maker above…”

“I humbly withdraw my complaint,” Mexicolt solemnly intones. “Even more than replacing an eye, that would certainly see your home swarmed by the masses. Is it overly tiring?”

“Those few cosmetic changes? I can do that once every twenty minutes or so.”

“Fantastic,” Coltifornia breathily mumbles.

He reaches in his mane and pulls out an invoice, hoofing it over to the gaping pegasus. She takes it and reads it over as the duchess raises a brow in question. Manesota finishes reading it and bursts out in laughter, then passes the paper to Eventide. She steps forward and scoops the colt up, wrapping him in a wing hug while the duchess reviews the form. Cure leans into the hug, figuring if mares are willing to snuggle on him it’s his Harmony-given duty to oblige them.

“Total bill,” the duchess reads, cracking a smile, “one wing hug, due at time of service.” She softly chuckles and passes it back to Manesota once she releases him. “Well played, highness.”

He gives the mare a small smile, then turns to walk back up the ramp to the throne. “There’s no reason we can’t all be friends, duchess,” he says, calling back over his withers. He walks around the side of the throne and hops up, leaning heavily against the princess as he lays down. “I’ll see what I can do to help your cities out as much as I’ve helped Cloudsdale and Canterlot. It may not be next season or even next year, but I promise I am working on it.

The casual showing of affection between the two alicorns is noted by the group. He continues, “I’ve only had my mark for nine months. I’m still learning and exploring what I can do. Like I said this morning; give me time to grow. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

“We look forward to seeing the results,” she formally announces, leading the rest in another bow before departing.

As the doors close behind Duchess Eventide’s peerage, Cure tiredly rolls onto his right side, sliding down Celestia’s left and blows out a long sigh. Careful not to jab her with either his horn or his crown, he twists his head upside down and gives her a playful nip on the edge of her wing, earning a soft bonk to his chin and a weak scowl.

The colt narrows his eyes at the ancient mare and raises his forehooves menacingly. The princess cocks a brow, clearly unimpressed. Slowly, and keeping his head completely still through the combination of his TK abilities, practice, and his cheating talent, he tucks his hooves tight and rolls left onto his barrel. His head twists nearly a hundred and eighty degrees in an instant, snapping to a stop so his chin is parallel with and ducked down near the surface of the throne between his forehooves.

The motion itself gets a cringe from the mare while her own neck weeps in sympathy at the abuse.

Wings slowly raising and spreading, the predator prepares to pounce. Celestia has to fight down the giggles as his booty raises in the air, swishing side to side like a kitten. His lips curl. His canines show. His body stills. His pupils dialate. And just as he prepares to launch himself, a giant, white wing comes crashing down, smothering him against her side.

Rather than the expected struggle, the princess is treated to the soft sounds of a fake snore. Another mirthful chuckle escapes her. As much as Cure would love to take a real nap, that is, sadly, not an option at the moment. Despite being done formally meeting the higher placed ponies in Equestria’s executive branch, he still has to get through the royal introductions with ambassadors from afar.

When she finally releases him he slides down her side to snuggle against her again. “Two for two, I would say.”

“I agree. You’ve done well to show them the value in supporting you. You will be able to keep their loyalty so long as you can continue doing so.”

“Well I ain’t goin nowhere, so even if it takes a minute for my creations to trickle over to ‘em they’ll still benefit immensely. I do have a bit of a critique though, if you don’t mind.” She turns her neck to give him a curious look. “There is absolutely no way you’re oblivious to it, right? I mean, you know what I’m about to say about the ponies you’ve got in charge, don’t you?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion, yes. It’s a criticism that’s been made hundreds of times, and sadly, it’s one I cannot dispute. The overwhelming majority of the upper echelons of nobility are unicorns,” she admits in a defeated tone.

“I promise it is not by design,” she quickly assures, “but rather simply because unicorns tend to gravitate to cities where education and opportunities are more abundant. Pegasi do as well, but with so many in either Cloudsdale and Las Pegasus they have limited representation elsewhere. If it is any comfort, when you factor in Commons members and city mayors, especially metropolitan suburbs, earth ponies have more representation than any tribe.”

The legislative branch functions of the government are split between two groups. Ed only had a passing familiarity with the parliament in the UK, but the setup sounds roughly the same. Each major metropolitan area’s count, countess, or other ruling noble designates two lords or ladies to represent their city’s interests in the House of Nobles.

The same applies to higher nobles with each designated (not their spouse) marquis, marchioness, duke, and duchess for a total of seventy representatives. Each one serves for a minimum of five years, though typically they stay in the position for life or until they are ready to, with their liege’s blessing, pass the role to their heir.

The House of Commons is their counterpart. Serving six year terms and appointed by popular vote, there are three hundred members appropriated to each metropolitan area, one for about every ten thousand ponies in a rather arbitrarily drawn district. Some are assigned to vast swathes of land, others only a few blocks in a city. Cure doesn’t know how exactly the districts are determined, but at least on paper the elected officials are supposed to represent their citizens.

Celestia continues, “Bat ponies are, in my opinion, the most underrepresented. Of course, that’s only until you factor their much lower population numbers compared to the other tribes.”

He mulls it over for a moment before slowly nodding in acceptance. It’s very likely true; earth ponies tend to live in more suburban or rural areas. Unicorns would have more opportunities to gain the wealth and status needed to accrue political power. In the rare event that a noble house falls or ends and another needs elevated, a unicorn is more likely to be positioned to step in.

“Has there ever been an objective analysis on education quality by tribe and region? Standardized education was something attempted… you know,” he says leadingly. “I’m not completely sure if it was what you would call an overwhelming success, but a more formalized approach than a mixed age schoolhouse would probably be beneficial. Hay, you already do it with pegasi to some degree.”

“I’m sure Chancellor Valor would have access to such statistics. I’ve not heard complaints regarding any inadequacies from concerned parties,” she insists. “If you would like to, you are well within your rights to arrange a meeting with her. You are a fully recognized prince now, after all.”

The Chancellery acts in a similar capacity as the “Secretary” positions under the presidents from Ed’s memories, advising the princess and managing the top level departments of the Equestrian government. Earned through merit instead of inheritance, the positions themselves do not automatically convey noble titles, though they do traditionally earn the occupants one after a few years of service. Even without the noble title a chancellor has, in some ways, as much or more political power than a marquis or marchioness.

The role of the marquis and marchioness positions is roughly equivalent to a state’s governor. They fulfill the executive branch obligations for the provinces they, essentially, rule under the authority of the duke or duchess responsible for their area. The split divides the country into two on a roughly southwest-to-northeast line passing just west of Canterlot.

While literally any creature, citizen or not, can directly petition her majesty, the two regional dukes, as well as the marquises and marchionesses, also have lower courts of their own in their respective provinces. Unlike the princess, those slots are by appointment only. Celestia insists walk-ins will always be welcome, arguing that ponies have potentially traveled for days just to see her and should be able to without prior approval.

Duke Dandy Dresser acts as yet another filter for the princess, overseeing many of the executive branch functions in Canterlot and the nearby Detrot Metropolitan Area and, occasionally, assisting with international issues that crop up. His role sounds more like an archduke’s to Cure, even if he doesn’t have the higher title.

Cure scrunches his snout in thought and considers if the education issue is something he wants to take on. Eventually, by all means, but there’s not an easy solution available as far as he can tell. Without effective transportation options there really isn’t a great way to ferry earth pony and unicorn foals to a centralized school building.

He knows setting up a streetcar kind of operation could mitigate that in some areas, but even if he had complete designs in hoof ready to go it would still be a multi-year endeavor just for his home town.

Smaller, self-propelled wagons would be easier, especially if they can be enclosed and climate controlled. It’s still not a perfect solution due to the need for drivers, maintenance crew, logistics ponies, administration, and flatter, better roadways. Still, it’s a step in the right direction at least.

He recognizes that transportation is only one small factor as well. The move from the schoolhouse model to central, public schools took decades or, in some more rural areas, the better part of a century. It’s also not something he knows how to achieve, nor does he have the slightest inkling where the money for such a project would need to come from.

Still, better education is the first step in any long term project with an eventual goal of uplifting a society, and if a plurality of the country’s foals are receiving a substandard education then any effort to highlight and remedy the shortcoming cannot be a complete waste.

“I don’t know if a meeting is necessary. I would, however, appreciate seeing what kind of results are produced from a suburban or rural area versus a metropolitan one on a standardized test. If there’s a marked difference in education quality with an easily identified cause then I’d be failing that ‘nurture’ pledge in damn near record time by simply turning a blind eye towards it. I just wish I would’a thought of that when Duchess Suncrest was in here.”

“She would likely be a fantastic ally,” Celestia agrees. “Perhaps you should discuss it with her at your next meeting.”

“I think I will… but that’s for later. Who’s next? The Saddle Arabians, griffons, then minotaurs, right?”

Nodding, Celestia answers, “First is Ambassador Ahmad and his family, then Ambassador Darius, and finally Ambassador Quickhorn.”

“Great,” he sighs out. “Which one will we be meeting with when your nephew blasts in here with a bottle?”

She chuckles warmly and shakes her head. “None, I’m sure. He wouldn’t want them mistaking the bottle for an offering. Have no doubt, though; he’ll be eager to pull you aside at his first opportunity. I admit, I’m curious as to why you seem to be making such an effort to indebt him to yourself,” she comments with an evaluating look. “Gifts for his foals, dancing with his daughters, even allowing them to snuggle on you. I had expected you to resent his initial faux pas.”

“That kinda thinking is just something I’ve come to expect from most unicorns,” he dismisses. The explanation that Cure outright expects bigotry from an entire tribe shocks and upsets the alicorn; something she lets show with a hurt frown. “What? That surprises you?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

“Of course it does!” she responds in a raised voice. She rolls her back half onto her right side and cranes her front leftwards to more directly face the colt. “Is that so common that you’ve simply accepted such behavior as inevitable?”

“Not… inevitable, per se. Definitely not outside of expectations, though. It’s happened a couple times in my hometown.” Not wanting to sour the mare’s opinion of his fillyfriend’s dam, he chooses to not bring up Emerald Aura’s interference in his or Solar’s relationships. Velvet Stitch’s initial reaction to him entering her store may have been just because he was a colt in a boutique, but Mr. Binder’s (one of the librarians) dismissal of him becoming a doctor someday is still fresh in his mind.

“But that area is predominantly earth ponies,” she points out. Cure simply shrugs and nods in acknowledgement. “Has that happened while you’ve been in Canterlot?”

“I haven’t gone out as an earth pony. I’ve always been in one disguise or another. We were getting enough looks at the Wonderbolts opener that your guards had to interpose themselves between us and some of the pegasi. I know you could probably disguise yourself with a spell,” he says mostly so any listening guards will overhear and assume she may not already do just that. “Have you ever gone into the city looking like an earth pony?”

“I haven’t,” she admits. “Specialist Clamor?” she calls, turning to face the pony closest to the ramp on her right.

He pivots on his left legs, steps to his right so he is front and center, and snaps to attention with his heavy shield planted on his left side. “Ma’am! Yes, ma’am?” he sharply responds.

“At ease, specialist. I ask that you speak freely.” The start of a cringe crosses his features before he schools his face flat. The expression, brief as it was, doesn’t escape her notice. “I… can only assume you have experienced similar unwarranted treatment?” she asks in a disappointed tone, clearly already knowing the answer.

In a more conversational tone, he answers while slowly nodding. “Yes, ma’am. Not in my current position, of course, but out of uniform, sometimes, and back before my promotion. The worst were evening patrols in the northeast part of the city when I was a corporal.”

At her curious look he continues. “The residents there didn’t pay me much mind when I was a private, ma’am. Corporal Slipknot was good at calming down anypony that started raising a fuss. When I promoted and started leading patrols myself I had to do the same. She… they didn’t get as nasty with her, ma’am.”

“Is … Sergeant Slipknot?” Cure verifies her current rank with Spc. Clamor who nods. “Is she a unicorn?”

Cure overhears Spc. Redshift when he leans closer to his sergeant and whispers, “The wings on that mare,” then grunts. They must be something else because the unicorn quietly mumbles his agreement.

“Pegasus, sir,” Clamor answers, briefly glancing to his right at the pair. “She would get an occasional ‘featherhead’ or ‘birdbrain’ comment, but nothing too out of line.”

“But with you?” Celestia leads.

The specialist hesitates a second, obviously more than a little uncomfortable blurting out offensive slurs directly in front of the two royals. Helpful as always, Cure decides to lend him a hoof. “Mud pony? Dirt horse? Shit shoveler? Ground pounder? I’m sure there’s a few fancy ways of calling somepony stupid I can’t come up with at the moment.”

The princess cranes her neck to look back with a scowl. “That is more than enough, Cure.”

“You’re welcome,” he gleefully chirps despite the lack of thanks.

“Uhh… some of those are new to me, sir, but that’s the gist of it.”

“I am immensely disappointed to hear that, specialist. I do appreciate your candor, though. Never doubt that you can speak up if something similar happens in the future.” More forcefully she insists, “I shall not abide such disparaging treatment of those sworn to protect us, nor shall I accept that derogatory, tribalistic behavior should be so common that even our young have come to accept it as expected,” she venomously finishes.

“I’m not sure that’s something you can just ‘fix’ exactly,” Cure points out. “Acceptance typically only comes with exposure, and I’m not sure how to increase that in a way that wouldn’t instead foster resentment.”

“Surely you don’t propose that nothing be done?”

Don’t say “Don’t call me Shirley.” It’s not funny when nopony gets the reference.

“I’m just saying you can’t force it and trying will likely cause ponies to dig their hooves in even further. If you wanna write up a law sayin ‘Don’t be a prick’ you certainly could. Issuing tickets… prickets,” he amends with a smirk, “for it may be a good way to fund whatever initiative you come up with to actually address the problem.

“Maybe some in-school tribal harmony classes?” he suggests. “Foals will almost certainly be more receptive to change than adults that are set in their ways.”

The princess mulls it over a second before nodding. “It’s an idea, at least. I believe Duke Dandy will be a good leader for the initiative.”

Cure’s initial response is that she’s putting a unicorn in charge again, but he recognizes that any such program probably would do better spearheaded by “one of them” instead of somepony else. An earth pony suddenly elevated to an alicorn prince probably isn’t going to convince them to change their ways due to still, technically, being an outsider.

“Thank you for your honesty, Specialist Clamor,” she continues, gracing him with a grateful smile. “I promise that we will make an effort to correct such reprehensible behavior going forward.”

The guard thanks her and ducks his head in a bow, then retakes his place at the base of the throne.

“Sounds like a plan, boss. As far as your nephew is concerned, I basically treat all of them how I would want to be treated,” he easily answers. “It seems to be working fairly well so far. Also, I see him or, more likely, his son, as potential allies if not business partners at some point. He’s a lot better than what I expected based on prior assumptions.”

“Ah. I think I understand.”

“Yeah… so, I don’t anticipate any issues with the Saddle Arabians, but just a heads-up for the griffons. The hawk looking dude was giving me an odd look earlier…”

“A million blessings upon you, Princess of the Day!” Ambassador Ahmad jubilantly declares.

Ed had little exposure to cultures from the Middle East. A few coworkers were a generation or two removed from various countries that make up that part of the world. The ambassador’s accent reminds Cure of something like a bad Arabian stereotype from an old cartoon rather than anything Ed had heard in real life.

The pegasus stands slightly ahead of his whole family. The stallion himself has almost the exact opposite coloration to Cure’s sort-of-uncle with a darker coat and a mane nearly the color of a Caribbean beach’s sand. It is almost entirely covered by his white headwrap with only a few strands poking out from the gaps left for his ears.

Their outfits don’t cover their forelegs, the underside of their necks, or the unicorns’ horns, but instead are wrapped mostly around their barrels and their flanks down to their hind knees. Their wings are mostly covered, though there is a seam through which they can extend them. Even their tails are mostly covered with only the bottoms visibly dangling below their garb.

The outfits must be hell to fly in, Cure muses. Not only would their wings’ range of motion be somewhat hindered but the outfits would act like a parachute at any speed. He can only assume they have different clothing for flying, though he has never looked into it.

The fella must have a preference, and Cure can’t wholly blame him. Just like his mom and his tax pony, each of the mares has some shade of pink for a coat and purple for a mane; the unicorn being the darkest of the three, nearly moving into a shade between true pink and almost purple.

Two of the daughters took after their dams with only the youngest inheriting her sire’s more blonde-ish mane along with a lighter hue of pink for her coat and wings. The unicorn colt got his sire’s coat color, fortunately, along with a slightly lightened, barely off-white mane.

The two trailing guards are still in their armor, though they are carrying something like a palanquin between them. Standing side-by-side, it’s unclear what is under the covering, but it’s fairly large even if the earth ponies seem to have no problem with it. Despite their load they stand at attention just behind the wives and foals.

Unaware of the colt’s musings, the stallion continues, “and a million more on his Highness, Prince Serpentus!” Either the dude is faking it really well or he’s genuinely thrilled; his wings haven’t stopped dancing since he walked through the doors of the throne room.

“To think the maker has granted me such fortune to be alive and present for such an esteemed occasion! His Excellency, Sultan Ilhani the Wise,” he pauses and, along with his entire family and the guards, bobs his head in a shallow bow at the mention of the sultan’s name, “lamented his inability to make the voyage himself, but bid me convey his joy to hear of your unfathomable achievement!”

Celestia, being the High Princess, speaks up first. “And we are overjoyed to share this occasion with you as well, Ambassador Ahmad. Please pass along our well wishes to Sultan Ilhani. It has been a few years since I have last seen him. I hope he is doing well.”

“Indeed, he is! The entirety of Saddle Arabia is preparing to celebrate the birth of his twelfth daughter and forth son! Everypony eagerly awaits the day when such celebrations will occur in Equestria as well, I assure you! I can only imagine how beautiful your foals will someday be, princess!”

Celestia was clearly caught unprepared for the suggestion, as were several of the guards. Cure notes nearly every set of ears perk up and more than a few heads subtly turn in their direction to observe the great alicorn’s reaction. “Ambassador,” she calmly replies, “Prince Serpentus is still very young.”

“Of course, of course! But he is presumably like yourself, is he not? What is a few years to those who live millenia?” he rhetorically asks. “I pray to the maker that I am alive to see the day when you are ready. One graced with such beauty already! I can only fathom your magnificence when heavy with foal!” he bellows giddily.

Cure leans slightly away from the princess and gives her an evaluating look, the move not the least missed by anypony. Nodding his head in agreement he turns back to the ambassador, noting but not reacting to the increased heat from the princess’s warning stare as he leans back more heavily against her side and opens his mouth. “Clearly wisdom belongs not only to Sultan Ilhani, Ambassador Ahmad. I can hardly think of a single other thing that could further enhance her majesty’s radiance,” he solemnly agrees, nuzzling into her left shoulder.

The ambassador, for his part, couldn’t look more proud at the colt’s agreement, and despite Celestia’s discomfort with the subject Cure notes her stare’s temperature subside as she turns back to the stallion.

“Indeed, indeed!” he cheers. “Although from what I saw earlier no help will be needed, his excellency dispatched tinctures and potions from his most trusted viziers to aid on that most glorious day!” he crows as he looks over his withers at his guards. With a motion of his wings the family steps aside to allow them to approach his left.

They gently lower the palanquin to the ground, then the stallion parts the curtain and reaches in the right side to lift out a short, but beautifully carved table and sets it on the floor. With care bordering on reverence he reaches back in and removes three small pink potions in glass containers that look almost like perfume bottles, only with ornate glass stoppers instead of a spray head.

“Made from carefully cultivated herbs bathed in the most sacred waters of life found in all of Saddle Arabia, I present you with three of the most powerful fertility potions ponykind could ever hope to distill for her majesty,” he pauses and produces three more similarly designed bottles with a blue concoction are removed next and sat to the others’ right before continuing, “and three similar potions of stallion potency for his highness when he comes of age!

“Worry not! Their effectiveness will not decrease with time, however, I advise caution!” he bellows, “as my wives can attest, these are not for the faint of heart!” All three mares eagerly nod in agreement behind him. He sets out a few cards and warns, “Take heed of these instructions, Princess Celestia, Prince Serpentus! The potency of these elixirs is not to be underestimated!”

The foals show absolutely no shame at all in their parents’ behavior. Cure can only assume that, opposed to the region from his memories, Equus’ version of the area must not be sexually repressed at all.

“Such generous gifts!” Celestia exclaims. Cure is pretty sure her heart isn’t in it, but in a society with such low birth rates it would be incredibly insulting not to gush over such an amazing present. Either that or she’s legitimately excited despite the awkwardness caused by his age. “I simply must convey my appreciation for his thoughtfulness as soon as possible. I shall dispatch correspondence to his eminence as soon as an opportunity presents itself,” she assures.

“I’m certain he will be quite thrilled to hear from you, your majesty, but I do have some gifts from my humble self to commemorate the occasion as well.”

“Ambassador, that’s really not necessary!”

“I insist!” he shouts, reaching into the palanquin again. This time he comes back with a wooden box about Cure’s own size. “I sought help from those with whom his highness worked over the last few weeks. I realize you are a growing young stallion, your highness, but it would not do to lack such finery even if you shall soon outgrow it!” he declares, lifting the front of the box. The front and top fold up and flip over the back while the sides open outward to reveal a ponyquin wrapped in a shimmering golden outfit much like the stallion’s own.

“Made from the finest silks in all of Saddle Arabia by the esteemed royal tailors, this marvelous abaya will bring you great comfort and protection in any weather!”

“Wow!” Cure faux excitedly exclaims, “It’s beautiful!”

Sensing his lack of genuine excitement, Celestia gently shoos him with her wing. “Go try it on, Serpentus. I’m sure you’ll look absolutely stunning in it!”

“I would,” he says, his voice dripping with disappointment, “but unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea how to put it on.”

“Easily remedied!” the ambassador declares. “Laila, Zahra, Aisha!” he shouts with a clap of his hooves. The three daughters all snap to attention and give the colt what could only be described as sultry looks despite their ages. On one hoof it’s slightly disconcerting that foals right around Wind Shear’s age are giving him looks like that. Oh the other, they are close to the age where even Equestrian ponies start experimenting.

“Come, come! We came prepared!” he gleefully shouts, withdrawing a curtain. “Nadia, if you could please, my dear?” The unicorn mare lights her horn and levitates the curtain into a small circular changing area just to the ambassador’s right.

With a mischievous smile the princess nudges Cure again. As he’s standing he adds back his earlier change to the disguise, figuring that based on the ambassador’s comment about “not needing help” he must have caught sight of everything during the parade. He can already feel the inevitability of his mistake catching up with him as he curses himself for accepting his mother’s dare.

While the fillies undress the ponyquin he climbs down off the throne and strolls down the ramp, entering the small changing area at the ambassador’s encouraging nod. The girls waste absolutely no time joining him. Normally he would be perfectly fine having the attention of three pretty pegasi, but the second set of wedding tackle changes the circumstances from fun and flirtatious to awkward and uncomfortable.

Ponies are far more tactile creatures, but that’s usually expressed with nuzzles, bumps, or hugs. For three fillies that have never met him before, they have no qualms whatsoever about damn near climbing all over him, “absently” resting a hoof on his chest, shoulders, or even his hips, or running their feathers over him as they move around to wrap him up.

Cure knows scents play a larger part in attraction than is typically discussed aloud. It’s an odd dichotomy; pointing out somepony smells like rotten ass is rude, obviously, but not otherwise strange. A pony talking about their mate’s intoxicating musk is going to make others uncomfortable, even if they can’t deny it’s something they secretly enjoy as well.

The “freshly baked cookies” aroma he exudes must really do it for these three. Every time a snout gets close enough, he can feel the deep inhale drinking him in. Bodies automatically release pheromones in different quantities in response to more than just sexual arousal, and although he can keep his own under control, the three fillies have no such capability. They may not have been truly interested in him prior to stepping in the room, but it’s easy for his enhanced nose to detect their attraction now.

He remembers being a little weirded out with how the girls poked and prodded him back at the rodeo; the vibes these three are putting out take it up a couple notches. He reflects that perhaps letting his real age be known would be wise simply to deter such aggressive pursuit by fillies even if it would only help for a year or two. It will be pretty obvious when he starts attending CSGU next year anyhow unless he enrolls and attends under a pseudonym.

Standing like a show horse with his wings held high, he can feel the change in the air the moment the youngest catches sight of the second sheath. Through his heat sense he detects her face warming up as she slowly, inconspicuously lowers her gaze and looks further towards his rear, gasping quietly when her eyes land on the second set of testicles dangling behind his over/under dicks.

Keeping his casual pose, Cure forces himself to not look back or otherwise react. That doesn’t prevent him from noting when the other two fillies catch the one’s reaction and, at the first deniable opportunity, take a gander themselves.

Pausing only a second in their duties, the three share looks and continue to assist the colt in donning the outfit. He isn’t sure he likes the way the headpiece wraps around his ears or sits behind his horn, but overall it’s pretty comfortable even if he’ll likely never wear it due to the problems it would cause with flight.

As they’re finishing up he notes the doors to the throne room opening and closing while they work. To his dismay, he catches the familiar scent of the court photographer and the chemicals he associates with her profession.

Once finished, each filly gives him a nuzzle and a small peck on his cheek before darting out of the changing room while giggling. He can only hope that he won’t get teased too badly about the wingies all three were fighting and failing to keep down.

Cure emerges just a moment later, dressed in his golden abaya and posing proudly as SD snaps picture after picture. At Celestia’s beckoning, he poses with the three fillies and their brother, then with the ambassador’s entire family before rejoining the ancient mare on the throne for even more pictures. He does his best to ignore the whispers of the fillies with their dams, then the dams’ hushed conversations and evaluating looks.

After the colt’s third picture with the princess, one of the ambassador’s pegasus wives steps forwards and produces one more gift from the palanquin. This one she holds out towards the princess and declares, “My wives and I also wished to celebrate the occasion, your majesty! Please accept this small offering from the three of us!”

Accepting it in her magic, Celestia neatly cuts the wrapping paper with her magic and lifts the lid, then the contents of the box. Though Cure recognizes what she has instantly, he strangles the snorted laugh in its crib and goes completely still. It takes a full five seconds of analysis before Celestia gets the outfit oriented correctly and realizes what it is supposed to be, at which point her muzzle goes nearly crimson to match its coloration.

Cure notes at least a few of the guards lining the room subtly look at the outfit, then shift their gaze at the mare in wonder. Just like the colt, they’re clearly imagining what their commander in chief would look like with her forelegs wrapped tightly from fetlock to thigh like a candy cane, the silken collar encircling the base of her neck, the fabric trailing down her shoulders around and between her wings, then splitting three ways to garter her flanks and tie around the base of her tail.

Scandalous.

The ambassador takes the moment of silence to speak up. “Not to be outdone, my beautiful wives have also procured the finest in Saddle Arabian nightwear for her majesty! I felt it may be more appropriate to wait until his highness is older to present you with it, but take this lesson to heart, Prince Serpentus! A stallion that does not listen to his wives will lead a difficult life indeed!”

While Cure nods in agreement, Celestia is frozen stock still, red silk lingerie held in front of her in her magic. The perfect moment is only truly achieved with a click and a flash from the royal photographer.

“Are you going to… ya know?” Cure trails off, waving at the now folded changing room curtain. Her head snaps around to glare at the impetuous colt. He shrugs and lightly tugs at his own clothing. “What? I tried on my outfit. And damn if I don’t look good in it,” he comments with a smirk. At her continued stare he shrinks a little, his smile disappearing and ears pinning back. “Sorry, boss. Just teasing.”

“I think not,” she flatly responds, turning back to the ambassador and his wives. “Thank you all for such a thoughtful gift. While I’m certain it would look… lovely… I think I will try this on in private,” she says, refolding the outfit and putting it away over top of SD’s quiet cursing. “As for the elixirs,” she begins, “I will have them taken to my physician to store with other important medications.”

“Mind if I…?” Cure asks, nodding to the flasks. With her approval he scans the potions. What he finds is a mixture of herbs he has never encountered, likely due to their origin. None are exactly poisonous at all, but they are distilled down to a very high potency just as promised. Taking more than a few drops would probably do something bad, as the stallion warned, but he would have to run a simulation or two to determine the actual effects, even if he can make an educated guess for the male one at least.

“They’re definitely potent. I’m not picking up any signs of breakdown at all, so they should be good for quite a while.”

Celestia nods to a guard who collects them and carries them off. With a final round of farewells and thanks the ambassador, his family, and his guards depart, leaving two somewhat discomforted alicorns sitting on the throne together.

Seeking to dispel the awkwardness, Cure casts a Sound Bubble, hops down from the throne, walks around to the front, and rears up so he’s roughly at chest level with the princess. “We’re both, in a way, adults, Celestia. Let’s do the adult thing and talk. I’ll go first. I am sorry if I upset you by teasing you about the outfit. Given their behavior as well as your lack of reaction to it, I didn’t think you would be offended.”

Celestia huffs out a sigh and shakes her head. “I am not offended, Cure. Perhaps somewhat annoyed, but not really with you. Since it was made public that there is an alicorn colt I have heard countless times how everypony expects foals from me once you are of age.” Scoffing, she flicks a wing in agitation, “Some have even had the temerity to suggest I not wait,” at his shocked look she hastily amends, “Not like that!”

“Well what the hay do you expect me ta think? I mean… come on!”

“They suggested that you be,” she pauses to cringe and, as if the word is bile on her tongue, finishes with, “harvested.”

“Harvested?” he echoes. “They wanna milk my male meat?! Bahahaha!”

Expecting a disgusted reaction, Celestia is shocked when the colt bursts out laughing instead. She sighs and waits for him to finish while giving him a tired look. “This is serious, Cure. A few lower nobles allowed rumors to spread about proposing a law requiring that we produce foals as soon as possible. I’ve been dreading the day you or your family heard of it.”

“Why?”

“Because you were eight!”

“Nine now, and to be honest I’m trying not to think about the date,” he admits with a cringe.

“What’s wr… oh… I’m sorry, Cure,” she warmly responds.

“‘s ok. You’ve got a lot on yer mind. You really should have just said something though. Given the option, I would always much rather know something’s up than not. Besides, none of my family would blame you either way. My dam would quite possibly explode with joy at the suggestion. You know she thinks you can do no wrong even though I keep telling her you’re just as nuts as any of us.”

“I’m not nuts,” she defends with a pout.

“Everypony is crazy, boss. Every single creature on the planet. Some hide it better than others, some only have rare flare-ups, and some are crazy in a good way, but if you ever find me a truly well balanced individual without any bizarre quirks or whatever then I will literally eat my own tail. I’m pretty confident it’s not possible to be one hundred percent sane.”

“That’s… a startlingly cynical yet fair point, I suppose. Regardless, I have served ponykind for nearly two millennia and now some have taken this joyous occasion and perverted it.” With a genuine frown that stabs into his chest the mare softly confesses, “It… it disappoints me, Cure. I had hoped for centuries to have somepony to just always be there, at least as a friend. That possibly arises and the immediate assumption is that now I must serve as a broodmare?”

“Eh, I don’t think that was probably the intent, Celestia. I’m sure many see you as a parental figure already.” He reaches out and takes her hoof with his own as he continues, “The very notion that you would be a fantastic dam is so ingrained in everypony’s mind that they don’t even consider it as a conscious thought. They just know you’ll be great because, to them, you’re already a natural at it. The patience, understanding, wisdom, and kindness you show is automatically associated with the qualities of an ideal parent, so imagining you with your own foals just comes naturally.”

The honest, glowing praise heaped on her earns the colt another small blush and, despite any attempts, a slightly watery smile crosses the princess’s features. Despite that, Cure doesn’t pause in his explanation. “It could be that or maybe they’re taking a purely pragmatic approach. They see one alicorn move the heavens. They finally get a second and, despite his age, look at the possibilities. What capabilities might ten more bring into the world? Besides, no matter what stupid laws anypony tries to enact, who would, or even could tell you what to do with your own body?

“There’s also the fact that we, as a tribe, are all but extinct.” He releases her hoof and absently waves to the door the guard exited from, adding, “I’m guessing if there were only a pair of some kinda ugly weasel left you’d probably be fine tossin ‘em in a room with those potions till they got busy.”

“I know, Cure. I’ve considered these points myself. I guess I had hoped everypony would just be happy with the news and not try to… taint it like they have.”

“Two things, boss, and I’m going to try to be as clinical as possible given the subject,” he warns, earning an understanding nod. “First off, if youdecide that you want a foal sooner, that can be achieved in several ways aside from the classic approach.

“They don’t need to harvest anything. I can easily supply the necessary concoction in whatever quantity they want, in whatever gender ratio is desired via my talent. Kinda gross, I know, but semen isn’t really any more difficult to make than blood or what have you.”

Despite the ick factor Cure associates with discussing infinite quantities of semen, Celestia takes in the information with the grace that one would expect from a mature adult. “I had suspected you could,” she calmly states.

“I figured,” he acknowledges. “I could also transmute a single one of your cells into the needed type. I’m reluctant to do so because I’ll be essentially experimenting with the creation of life. That’s just not a line I want to cross under the circumstances. Under nearly any circumstances, in fact.

“If I provide a sample then at least it is my own matter. It’s still physically and metaphysically me. I can’t venture a guess as to what the result would be otherwise, which is why my siblings were conceived naturally using my parents’ own biological matter the old fashioned way.”

Celestia nods in understanding. “Wise,” she compliments. “I hadn’t considered that, but now that you’ve explained it, the possibility of something going wrong is not a risk I would like to take.”

“Right. Not worth the heartbreak,” he agrees. “The other option if you don’t want to wait is the whole suit thing. It’s weird as all get out to casually discuss, but you certainly noticed the suit didn’t have genitalia last time. That was a conscious decision, obviously.”

“Again, I assumed such after getting to know you more. I was all but certain after we discussed everything.”

“Yeah, I, again, figured you put two and two together. The big concern there would, of course, be my age.”

She scoffs and agrees, “Obviously. Some countries would definitely use it against us and me in particular. And rightfully so, even given your unique circumstances.”

“Yeah and I don’t think most would buy the explanation assuming we even wanted to share it.”

“Agreed. And just so we’re clear I don’t truly consider you an adult, Cure. At least not in many ways, and I don’t think you really do either.” The colt gives a shallow nod in agreement. “That option is completely unacceptable,” she declares.

“I agree. It’s not a good option, all things considered, but it is one. In a few years when it’s not completely unacceptable we could probably get away with it without too much scorn, but at that point we might as well wait until I’m legally an adult. Again, assuming you do even want a foal.”

“I’ve always wanted a foal,” she confirms. “Just out of curiosity, is there anything you can do with your talent that would allow somepony else to conceive one with an alicorn? Are you able to ensure such a foal would survive?”

“I don’t think so,” he honestly answers. “We are genetically incompatible with other ponies. We’re not talking about a cosmetic procedure here. Let’s say you had a partner right now, okay?”

“Okay…”

“I would have to literally use my talent to transmute his semen in his balls to my own… or maybe just reprogram his testicles similar to what I’ll have to do to have foals with others.”

The squicky look on the princess’s face nearly cracks him up, but he maintains his professional demeanor. “Yeah I’m not sure how well that would work on somepony that isn’t me. It could cause a horrible immune system response without me actively suppressing it. Assuming it did work, they still will be my biological foals no matter what. It’s the same reason I told your nephew that any foals I sire will effectively be those of an earth pony.

“I could knock up a griffon and ensure the resulting foal … cub, chick, whatever … would also be a griffon, but it wouldn’t actually be mine, genetically, and maker knows what that would do to its magic. There is no other alicorn male biological material to work with, so any alicorn foals can only be mine even if they’re conceived by somepony else,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Since you and Luna are sisters, she would similarly be stuck with me. If we have a colt at least any other alicorns that come along can have them sire instead, but with so few alicorns total we would be forced to inbreed in a single generation. Every Y chromosome will be mine unless another colt ascends, and a second would barely help at all. It would take a few hundred alicorns to avoid the problem entirely. I’m betting I could fix genetic problems, but still… gross.”

The explanation visibly deflates the ancient mare as she laments, “So any foal I bear will face the same fate I have.”

“Maybe. I can think of one probable and a few far less likely possibilities. There’s a chance that with the right talent an alicorn could breed with another pony. I have no idea how, but I can only operate on the physical side of things.” The statement is a clear reference to Flurry Heart. Though he never gave a name, Celestia recalls that one future ascended, presumably Love, supposedly will have a foal by the other’s brother.

“The metaphysical part is a whole lot more powerful, boss. Hell, maybe somepony could find a way to temporarily faux ascend a pony. I can scan them to get a sample from ‘em, then when the spell wears off, tweak their testes to blast alicorn juice temporarily. I don’t suppose you have such a spell ready to go, do you?”

“I do not. I don’t even know if that would be possible. It sounds highly dangerous to the subject.”

“And yet, if asked, a thousand stallions would probably volunteer to try in an instant. Even if it meant certain death I bet you would get dozens of volunteers.”

Somewhat bolstered, Celestia nods in acceptance. “It’s an idea, at least, even if a far-fetched one. You said you can think of other possibilities,” she says in a questioning tone.

“Yeah but they’re even more of a long shot. The first would be if changelings had any kind of ability to reproduce with ponies.” The revolted shudder that runs through her body tells him what she thinks of that.

He continues on regardless, “They’re a complete wildcard, but if there’s male alicorn-like changelings then maybe that’s a possibility. Or if they’re just universally compatible somehow. The other unlikely options all revolve around finding some kind of alchemical formula or magical MacGuffin or, and maker above I can’t believe I’m going to say it…” he pauses to sigh, “we could ask him.”

“No.” Not even giving him a chance to clarify who Cure is referring to, Celestia immediately shakes her head in the negative. “Under no circumstances would I ask him to do something to make it possible. That could only result in disaster.”

“Yeah… I could see everything going perfectly normal throughout the whole pregnancy then a second draconequus or a giraffe or something popping out. The last thing I can think of is if I can get enough stallion scans that I may be able to do a comparative analysis between my earth pony and alicorn samples.

“I’ve already started doing this to see if I could eventually make a ‘unicorn’ or ‘pegasus’ version of my own… uhh… samples. That’s a whole lot easier because at some point I’ll have enough scans to figure it out, I think. With a sample size of one I would have to rely on whatever force guides my talent to identify a problem, and if it doesn’t work right, who knows what you could end up with.”

Celestia nods in understanding and considers everything he’s suggested. After a moment of quiet deliberation she finally speaks up. “I suppose the only thing to do is to keep working on it. Given enough time I have faith that you will figure it all out, Cure. For now, however, I fear the griffons may be getting impatient.”

“Yeah I guess we need to get back to it.” Cure gives her a genuine smile and, in a confident tone, assures her, “Of course I do have a plan in case you want to get everypony to back off completely for a few years!”

She eyes him suspiciously for a moment until he waves a hoof and gives her an “I’m waiting” look. Finally she rolls her eyes, sighs again, and in a flat tone requests, “Please, Cure. Share with me this plan that will definitely help and won’t be ridiculous and humiliating in some way.”

“That’s the spirit!” he cheers. “So it goes like this. First we find a volunteer, preferably a decently in shape unicorn or an earth pony that’s kinda on the scrawnier side, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“If it’s the former I give them a temporary horn-ectomy,” he continues despite her horrified recoil, “the latter would probably be easier. Either way, I give ‘em a makeover so they look and sound just like one of them zebra pricks from the train, right?”

She doesn’t respond, instead giving him a doubtful look.

Unperturbed, he animatedly continues. “Glad yer with me. So I go out, make a nice, big public appearance, and - ‘Oh? What’s this? Why is that strange zebra in the crowd screaming down with alicorns and whatnot?’” he pretends to wonder. “Next thing ya know, he tosses a bottle of some kind at me. Wham, bam, boom! An explosion of a conveniently-vision-obscuring mist billows out and, surprise, surprise, Prince Serpentus is suddenly Princess Serpenta,” he finishes with a clap and a firm nod.

Celestia stares for a solid five seconds at the colt before delivering her professional analysis. “That’s idiotic.”

“That’s an odd way to pronounce ingenuous. Must be the Canterlot accent.”

“That would cause a war, Cure.”

“Naaah,” he waves the suggestion away. “Your top alchemists could certainly come up with a way to fix it. It may just take six years, give or take. Besides, the dastardly villain’s execution should placate the masses.”

“I’m not executing somezebra that’s already in prison!” she hotly insists.

“I meant we would fake it, boss. Jeez…”

“Well pardon me for misunderstanding! Seriously, though, Serpenta?” she asks before snorting out a laugh.

“It isn’t like I’ll actually be a chick. Just gotta wind up the ‘ol tallywagger and have the boys move north for a while.”

“The ambassador’s daughters will be devastated.”

Cure doesn’t bother holding in the shudder. “I think they must’a been on Team Harvest. They were incredibly unsubtle feelin me up. They scented me so hard I’m not sure if I have a smell at all anymore. Then they took turns damn near staring at my junk. I was about to start charging them for the show. Them fillies were waaaay too thirsty for their ages, boss.”

A look of shame crosses her face as she rushes to apologize. “I had not expected such behavior, Cure. I am so sorry for putting you in that situation!”

“Ehh… it’s not really that big of a deal. They were way more friendly than is appropriate but they didn’t like… molest me or whatever. It certainly won’t be the last time a mare will find themselves unable to resist checkin out this fine hunk’a stallion.”

Despite his flippant attitude, Celestia is still upset over the situation. “Never let anypony treat you in a way you do not wish to be treated, Cure,” she sternly commands. “Whether they’re an ambassador’s foal, a noble, or even if I inadvertently do something you do not approve of. I know you are more than capable of standing up for yourself. You do not have to abide such unwelcome advances. Simply state they are making you uncomfortable or, if necessary, Send me a message.”

“Is what they did unacceptable in their culture?”

“Not exactly, but they are the daughters of an ambassador to Equestria. They have been here long enough to know better. They either do or should know what is and is not appropriate. Truthfully I am now wondering if the whole clothing gift was done specifically in the hopes they could interest you… judging from their body language the opposite seems to have occurred.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. I’ll probably be featuring in a naughty dream or two soon enough. Gotta admit, I hadn’t considered the whole clothes setup thing,” he remarks, looking down at the outfit in a new, slightly disgusted light. “Well as bad as the whole baby making thing will be for you I suspect it’ll be way crazier for me, in a way. Between my domain and the gender disparity I’d bet money somepony will suggest a law studding me out one way or another.”

Celestia gives the colt a look of sympathy and nods in agreement. “I will veto any such law, I promise.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he comments. “The way I see it happening is they’ll sneak it into something else like… I dunno, a bill to fund infrastructure projects or something. Ya know, somewhere you wouldn’t literally go line by line. Or one that, other than that one clause, is just too good to say no to.”

“Those are interesting ideas. I could simply veto that portion if necessary, but even if I did not, there is ultimately no way to force you to do anything, just as they could not force me to. An unenforceable law might as well not be one at all.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you didn’t include anything about following the law in them pledges.”

Cure backs away from the throne and falls back to all fours. “One sec, boss,” he mumbles while concentrating. In a flash his outfit disappears, teleported to his closet. “Better. Kinda weird how actually wearing clothes is less comfortable nowadays,” he comments, climbing back on the throne to rejoin her.

He dispels the Sound Bubble and leans over to give her shoulder a friendly nuzzle. “Feelin better?”

“I am,” she confesses, gracing him with a genuine smile. She wraps a wing over him and squeezes him to her side in a hug, then looks to her seneschal to summon the next group.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come now, princess. Our kingdoms are good friends, are we not? You ponies are all about friendship! We simply wish to extend the offer, that’s all!”

“And it is appreciated, Ambassador Darius, but Serpentus is much too young to be traveling so far from home.” Celestia pauses and glances at the colt. Cure, sat on the floor to her left, is staring in awe at the sword the griffon delegation gifted him. Were it not for his ability to heal she would have snatched the present away from him the instant it was passed over. Truthfully, she isn’t sure why he’s so enamored with it; while it is indeed a fine example of griffon smithing, he’ll likely never use it at all.

The gladius is slightly large for him at his current size, though he could wield it with no difficulties due to his strength and weight. However, by the time he’s as large as his sire the sword will be far too short and light for his frame. It may be a fine weapon for a unicorn to use in their telekinetic grip, but for an alicorn something with more heft is generally better.

At least the colt’s excitement made the ambassador and his mage attaché smile. Cure was far more animated when unsheathing the blade than he was when trying on his outfit earlier.

“Yeah,” the colt quietly agrees with a sigh, “it would be pretty cool to hop on across the ocean, but ya know how overprotective parents can be. I wouldn’t mind visiting when I’m older, but my moms, and probably even my sire, would be pretty ticked if I agreed to anything like that right now.”

“Understandable,” the griffon sighs in mock sympathy. “Just know that His Highness, King Guto, would be delighted to host you whenever your dam and sire allow it.”

The ambassador’s tone gets a mild frown from the princess, but Cure turns and gives him a confused look. “I thought filial piety was a big deal to griffons. Are you saying you don’t listen to your parents?” The heads of every guard, the princess, and even his attaché all turn to regard the ambassador.

The princess pounces on the opportunity, musing aloud, “I seem to recall meeting your parents at the Grand Galloping Gala about four years ago.” The ambassador goes still, eyes widening slightly at the memory. “In fact,” she starts, inclining her head in thought, “I distinctly remember your dam gushing about her darling cub spoiling them with first class tickets and a fancy hotel.”

She regards the cringing tom with a warm motherly smile. “I do hope they’ll be able to make the journey to join us again at some point.”

“I… uhh… I’ll be sure to invite them soon, princess,” he stammers.

“Wonderful! I’ll look forward to…” Celestia stops mid sentence and regards the colt. “What are you doing?!”

Cure pauses, the sharpened blade held in his right hoof with the edge against his left cannon. “Testing.”

“Why?”

“I’m curious.”

“About whether it’s sharp?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You don’t cut yourself to see if it’s sharp or not,” she answers as if she’s explaining that water is wet to an imbecile.

“I would advise caution, Prince Serpentus,” the older hen interrupts. “That is no mere sword! It’s a skysteel gladius produced by Wayland Smith himself!”

“Skysteel?” he asks, pausing to hold the blade up and examine it more closely. It is indeed shinier than normal steel, but Cure hasn’t ever seen any evidence that mythological metals exist. “What the hay is skysteel?”

“A far superior metal used in cutting weapons found only in top secret mines in Griffonstone!” the ambassador proudly declares. “Many soldiers and mercenaries can only dream of possessing such a fine weapon!”

“Wooowww!” he gushes, then promptly swings the sword straight into his foreleg. With the subdermal armor removed the blade passes easily through his leg until it meets bone, then stops dead with a muted clank sound. “Huh. That’s actually pretty impressive,” he calmly observes, watching in interest as blood begins welling up from the cut.

Both griffons stare in wide-eyed horror as Celestia lets out a deep sigh. The guards at the base of the ramp don’t react at all, but several lining the room wear varying shocked expressions at the display. “You had better not stain my throne room floor, young colt,” the princess calls in a warning tone.

“I got it, I got it. Gimme a sec,” he calmly replies. He slides the blade away until only the tip touches his skin, leaving a line of blood coating the edge. Wings raised in worry, the pair of griffons watch in silence as the blood flows back off the sword and into the cut which promptly closes as if it never existed. “There, see?” he asks, fully withdrawing the blade, “I didn’t even get a drop on yer fancy tiles, princess.”

“Good. Now put that away before you hurt somepony,” she tiredly commands.

“Fiiine!” he whines, resheathing the sword. He tucks it under his left wing and hops back up to rejoin the princess on her throne, then shoots a beaming smile at the stunned pair. “Thanks for the awesome sword! Please tell King Guto I’m super excited about learning how to use it properly and I’ll be sure to visit once the folks say I’m allowed to!”

Ambassador Darius swallows thickly before nodding. “Of course, your highness. We will be eager to make arrangements whenever you are ready.”

“Cool! I’ll look forward to it!”

With final farewells exchanged the pair are escorted out of the throne room. Once the door shuts, Cure quietly comments, “I think it’s just a different kind of stainless steel. Somethin does feel off about it though.” He unsheathes the sword so they can more closely analyze it. The spot that struck his bone seems completely intact. He had held back his strength, but still expected some kind of mark or imperfection where the blow landed. It failed to significantly damage the bone, though it did penetrate a few of the outer layers.

“Pardon?”

“I suspect it’s stainless steel, just made with more chromium and, I think, has less carbon in it. Just looking at it I would almost bet money on it, but it feels different,” he explains, passing the sword to the ancient alicorn. “Have you ever actually encountered a metal that, by itself, defies physical laws? Mithril, adamantium, saronite, unobtanium, nth metal, magisteel, orichalcum, nullstone, etcetera? Something that’s supposedly indestructible or maybe drains a user of their magic?”

“None with those specific properties,” she answers, “but yes. The forging process of such metals are protected as vigilantly as any state secret. I’m sure you’ve read of the properties of cold iron?”

“The whole anti-magic thing?”

She nods and says, “Precisely. The creation of armor-grade cold iron is far more complex than the name implies. Many smiths have wasted countless hours simply hammering away at unrefined ore, unaware of the process required to bring out its true potential.”

“Huh. What about gold then?”

“Gold naturally conducts magic efficiently. More efficiently than any other metal that’s been discovered. There are some types of wood that do well. I suspect Attaché Giselle,” she tilts her head toward the door, “to be carrying a gold-inlaid yellow birchwood staff. A solid gold one would be far too heavy to fly with for most, obviously.”

“And gaudy as all get out,” Cure agrees.

“Not to mention wildly expensive,” Celestia adds.

“So the griffons have skysteel, we have cold iron. Do Minotaurs have something like that?”

With a nod she answers, “You mentioned a similar name to one in your list. Adamantine is said to be such an exotic metal, though I have never encountered it myself. It is forbidden for any minotaur to take any out of the country except for during times of war. I do not know its properties, only that it is immensely valuable for weapons and armor.”

“Neat. Mithril is a metal from fiction. It was a topic someone did entirely too much research into once,” he vaguely indicates, recalling Ed’s memories of the early 2000s when Lord of the Rings hit theaters. “Supposedly it was based off of higher chromium stainless steel. It’s shinier and harder than normal stainless steel, but it’s also more brittle. I don’t recall how much more, but I don’t think you wanna try to block a warhammer with it unenchanted.

“Here, check this out,” he says, extruding a small strip of wood. “I’m using a tiny bit so I won’t wear out my Transmutation crystal.”

“Okay,” she nods along.

“First, just plain iron,” he says, converting the strip to metal. “Iron, as you know, rusts or, more accurately, oxidizes when it reacts to the oxygen in air. Water, especially salt water, will speed that up a whole bunch.”

“Yes, I know that much about it,” she says in understanding.

“Good. So Ferric and I have been experimenting some with metals, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“So there’s several metals you want to mix with iron to get different results. Carbon, nickel, and chromium are important, but we’ve also tested some similar metals like how I mentioned platinum and palladium are related. I don’t know the name of it, but there’s one like chromium that’s showing potential in small quantities.”

“Fascinating.”

“Right? So if instead of pure iron,” he says, casting the spell again, “you do a seventy-twenty-ten mix of iron, chromium, and nickel you get something just as hard but won’t rust nearly as quickly. It’s also shinier. At some point we’re going to test adding some titanium and aluminum in to reduce weight, but that’s not all that important for her customers since they’re almost all earth ponies.

“At first I figured that’s what the sword was made of, but you can tell they’re not quite the same. The alloy we came up with is useful for medical purposes, but then again I could probably make a surgical blade plant to grow scalpels made of zirconium and supply entire hospitals easily.” He pauses and furrows his brow in thought. “Huh… I think I know what my next big thing will be…”

“I’ll look forward to seeing what you come up with,” she warmly says, squeezing him against her side with her wing. “Before you can get started, we have one more ambassador to meet with.”

“Sure thing, boss,” he agrees, separating from her side as the pair retake their more formal positions. The princess teleports Cure’s sword up to his room and nods to the guards standing at the door. The unicorn on the right ignites his horn and pulls the door open. Celestia’s seneschal walks through the door and announces, “Presenting the esteemed Ambassador -”

“Out of my way!” is bellowed before the unicorn can finish as the bull Cure saw earlier barrels past him. The six guards at the base of the throne ramp straighten their posture but make no move to stop the minotaur as he approaches.

“That was quite rude, Ambassador Quickhorn,” Celestia lightly scolds as she stares down from her throne. “For what reason have you cast aside decorum and disrespected myself, Prince Serpentus, and the servants and guards of my castle?”

“Abomination!” he shouts, coming to a stop just in front of the guards and pointing at the young alicorn. Cure simply cocks a brow in wonder at the enraged bull as he continues, “That is not a healer! He is perverting nature, warping the maker’s gifts! And you!” he shouts, glaring at the princess.

Cure notes the fellow at least has the good sense not to point a finger at her. “Instead of purging this atrocity you give him a crown?! What madness is this?!” he screams, throwing his arms wide. The move tenses the guardians at the base of the throne, briefly drawing the ambassador’s attention before he dismisses them with a snort.

“Prince Serpentus,” she emphasizes his title while leaning forward with a glare, “was blessed with his talent by Harmony itself. What arrogance you must have to claim greater wisdom than a force beyond us all!”

“What arrogance you have to believe us all fools! He is not a healer!” he growls. “He is a warper of life! A cancer and a pox upon us all! Yet you claim his abilities are a blessing?! How?! Had I known this was the healer you touted I would never have allowed Jala to remain in Canterlot! Who knows what he did to her or her calf?!”

The energy in the room stills at the accusation as the princess’s mane and tail billow more rapidly. She stares white fury at the ambassador, pinning him in place with the weight of a thousand suns. Cure, wisely, doesn’t move a muscle despite the spike of heat on his right side. “That was far too much.

“I suggest, ambassador, that you return to the post and begin training the interim ambassador. Perhaps impart upon them the foolishness of making baseless accusations against innocent foals, members of royalty, or especially, both. I am deeply disappointed in your behavior today,” she chides. ”After working together for so many years, I had expected far better from you.”

Sgt. Bramble steps into view at the entrance to the room, a six guard squad on his tail, with impeccable timing. “Sergeant, please ensure Ambassador Quickhorn arrives at the Minos Embassy promptly, then coordinate with Dukes Dandy and Suncrest as well as Marchioness Yorkshire to arrange accommodations and passage for him and his family back to Minos as soon as is feasible.”

The ambassador’s face contorts in a rictus of fury. “You can’t…” he starts before trailing off, realizing that he has reached the limit of the princess’s patience. “High Chieftain Taurus will hear about this!” he declares in a snarl, then turns and barrels back out through the door, the sergeant and his squad following behind him.

“Pleasant fella,” Cure dryly remarks. “Mind turnin down the heat, boss?” he asks with a nuzzle. Celestia blows out a sigh as the pressure in the room abates. “Whew… alright, everypony go ahead and unclench now,” he commands.

Nopony laughs but more than a few of the guards let out a held breath as their posture relaxes minutely. “Ya know what, that may be what’s wrong with him. He probably just needs a hearty, system-cleansing BM. It’s impossible to be in a good mood when yer all backed up, after all.”

“I had expected the minotaurs to express some concerns in regards to your creations,” she comments, not responding to his attempt at levity, “but nowhere near that level of hostility.”

“Is this going to be a problem? I mean… they’re an ocean away and don’t seem like they’re built for naval warfare.”

Located to the north and northeast of the griffons in Equus’ approximation of Eastern Europe or Southwest Russia, there isn’t an easy or fast way for them to get to Equestria. Their only option is via ship, but the naval powers of the world are technologically in the mid-early age of sail. There are airships, but they’re little more than dirigible-like modified boats, mainly used by griffons as troop carriers. Equestria has only a dozen of the magical transports and, as far as Cure is aware, Minos has none at all.

“They’re not any kind of threat even if the chief agrees with his ambassador, right?” he asks.

“No, the worst they will likely do is complain loudly. They have little ability to do anything, even through trade. What little we buy from them can be purchased from the griffons just the same and I do not foresee them halting purchases from us. The vast majority are nonperishable foodstuffs they cannot find elsewhere without spending significantly more.”

“Good. I gotta admit, I expected to get by at least a day or two before somecreature called for my execution. I feel like ‘under four hours’ has to be some kinda record.”

“I can’t help but agree. I have not had to do that for the better part of a century.”

“Are you really going to expel him?”

“Absolutely,” she immediately replies. “If my ambassador in Knossos were to act similarly I am unsure if he would make it back alive. I would have expelled him for speaking in such a way about any foal. I cannot begin to imagine what he hoped to accomplish with that display of foolishness.”

Cure can only shrug helplessly in response. Unfortunately, creatures just act sometimes without any real plan, typically to their own detriment. Letting a situation get out of hoof at the moment is one thing, but the ambassador had plenty of time to consider his actions and what repercussions would come after.

Then again, if everycreature sat down and applied logic to their situation then a good portion of the world’s issues would be addressed well before they developed into legitimate problems. He knows he isn’t always a paragon of common sense either, but he does pride himself in his ability to look at most situations from a detached, pragmatic standpoint, only letting his emotions cloud his judgment in extreme circumstances.

“The only thing I can think is that he expects his opinion and actions will be popular enough back in Minos that it was worth throwing away his career here,” Cure proposes. “Will the High Chieftain be pissed off at the dude, will he approve, or will his response be somewhere in between?”

Celestia considers the question for a moment, cocking her head to the side in that way Cure can’t help but associate with a cute puppy. He stifles the small smile threatening to creep across his muzzle as she slowly nods. “Your suggestion has merit,” she agrees.

“He has been here for quite some time, so despite whatever official repercussions he may face he will likely end up in a high position somewhere. He seemed genuinely angered, but this may have also been a way to return home and score political points at the same time. It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing has been done.”

Cure rolls his eyes as he comments, “If that’s the case then it shows real character that he chose to retire like that. So…” he pauses, leaning against her side, “what brand of torture must I endure next, boss? I’m finally free, right?”

The princess reaches over him and pulls him between her legs, laying her neck across his back and resting her head on her left foreleg so they’re cheek to cheek. “No more torture, unfortunately. At least not by my hoof. No promises with my nephew, though. I would be amazed if he isn’t eagerly awaiting you just on the other side -”

The door bursts open before she finishes with Blueblood literally prancing through the entryway, two bottles levitating in his magic in front of him. “Thank the maker you are finally finished!” he excitedly shouts as he makes his way to the throne. The stallion doesn’t even spare the guards at the base of the ramp a second’s glance as he strolls right past them.

He sits on his haunches just in front of the throne and takes one of the bottles in his hooves, presenting it like a prized trophy. “I present to you the penultimate chardonnay produced by any creature on the planet: Clearwater Creek’s Year Nine Hundred Prestige Label Chardonnay!” he nearly squeals. More flatly he continues, “And here, as you requested, is an unsealed bottle of filtered water with sugar added.

Cure takes the water bottle in his magic as he says, “Cool… let’s see what we can do here…”

Author's Note

Okay, so some not so great news. I have mentioned a few times over the last month or two that I have been expecting a major life event throwing off my schedule. No - I'm not getting, nor have I recently gotten married. If anyone has ever seen The Money Pit, that's basically my life right now. So yeah, over the last two months I've had just so, so much happen with travel and moving and job stuff, but hopefully I'm through the busiest part of it. I expect my schedule to normalize in the next 2-3 weeks once I have everything wrapped up. Maybe.

Do not expect a chapter next week. I have the next few chapters mapped out, but we're talking bare bones here. A whole lot of meat needs added on. I had debated splitting this chapter in half and giving it to you today and next Monday, but then I thought... why do that? It's certainly long enough to, but I'd just assume keep it whole.

The next chapter will, in all likelihood, wrap up the day and see Cure make his journey back to Baltimare on the next day. I had strongly debated skipping over that, but just like all the other times I considered doing so I came to the conclusion that skipping things sucks and, as a reader, I would have much preferred seeing them happen at least in part.

Last night I logged on and saw that the thumbs-up climbed over 1,000; a milestone I honestly never anticipated. I know I say it every chapter, but I really appreciate all the positive feedback... I even appreciate the negative feedback as long as it's useful and not just "this is dumb because of X" comments.

As far as the subjects discussed in this chapter, I know from most perspectives it's really bizarre that Cure and Celestia have that conversation. Look at it from the perspective of two members of a culture that has embraced breeding arrangements and suddenly the lack of discomfort seems a lot more plausible. Inevitably, if Celestia wants foals, there is only one source of them. Talking about it will not change the circumstances.

Thank you all again for reading and rating. An especially big thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment. Enjoy!