Saturday, June 20st 909 AB (Less than an hour later)

“Free at last!” Cure shouts as his suite room flings open. Back in his normal blue and green earth pony appearance he bounces in the room, zeroing in on the pair of unicorns sitting on a nearby section of his couch. “Thank the maker I’m free at last!” he jubilantly shouts, running and diving at Dawn in a tackle hug.

Her eyes widen comically as the mass of colt barrels at her. Cure had lightened himself and aimed low, so instead of bowling her over he stops just by her right side and glomps on her withers, burying his snout between her and her sire, then flopping against the red stallion’s side.

The pegasi adults lounging above all bark out a laugh at the scowling filly. Noticing his arrival, the other foals start making their way back in from the balcony, leaving the grandparents, Lucky, and his family behind. The younger foals are running and flying around the tree playing tag while the rest of the adults are sitting on or near the couch playing with the newborns and infants.

“Oof!” Haze grunts, exaggerating the hit and rocking slightly to his side. “Not even a prince six hours and he’s already abusing his subordinates,” he melodramatically laments. “Teasing aside, you delivered your speech spectacularly, young stallion. Very impressive all around!” He bumps the colt’s side with his right shoulder and gives him a proud smile. “Well done!”

“Thanks, sarge! I’m just glad nothin too crazy happened. At least not ‘till the ambassadors all showed up, at least.”

“What happened with the ambassadors?” Lemon asks.

“They went from one extreme to the other,” he grouses, rolling over and wrapping his forelegs around Dawn. He calls out a greeting as the other foals pile on the couch to their right before turning back to his mom. “The Saddle Arabians gave me some fancy clothes and a some medications -”

“Medications?” Lemon asks, wrinkling her snout. “Why would they give a healer medicine?”

“Maybe ‘vitamins’ would be more accurate. I don’t know what they were made of, exactly; some kind of herbs they have, but apparently they are designed to help improve bloodflow,” Cure explains. “The ambassador insisted they would be very helpful when I’m older and kept saying the princess would appreciate ‘em too for some reason.”

All the adults freeze. A round of embarrassed giggles and snorted laughs escape despite their efforts. Haze cranes his neck to look at the alicorn lying across his daughter’s back. “You… You didn’t take any, did you?” he worriedly asks. Cure doesn’t respond verbally, instead giving the stallion a slow-blink “Are you crazy?” look. “Sorry! Had to be sure!” he quickly blurts out.

“More bloodflow is good for muscles, isn’t it?” Heavy asks in confusion. His sire closes his eyes and turns away to hide the cringe. “What? That’s why you normally start at a trot and work up to a gallop, right?” he asks the room, “So your blood is flowing better?”

Nearly every adult is struggling to hold back full blown laughter.

“That’s a good point, bro,” Cure compliments. “I bet that stuff would help a lot before a variety of strenuous workouts.” The gray colt gives an appreciative smile back for the recognition of his brilliant insight.

“Are you gonna take some of that before you fly back tomorrow?” Glacial asks. “It sounds like it would help for long distance flights.” Her gaze is immediately drawn to the three pegasi laughing overhead.

“Another good suggestion,” Cure agrees. “According to the instructions it’s more for adults than foals. The ambassador promised it’ll stay good for a long time though.” Cocking his head to the side in thought he adds, “Maybe the pegasi that are flyin with me would benefit from it. I’ll ask if they want to try some before we head out.”

“Oh my,” Crisp Script mumbles. “Exactly how many stallions were escorting you, dear?” she suggestively inquires.

“Six. They’re all elite guards from Fort Meadow.”

“Six,” she breathily repeats, then seems to stare off into the distance in thought while licking her lips.

“It should be quite the spectacle when we head out in the morning. I bet hundreds of ponies will come out to see me off. Lots of ponies to wave goodbye to, more’n likely.”

“I bet them guards‘ll be wavin all right,” Amethyst comments.

“Maybe once we’re flyin over everypony,” he agrees. “She said I don’t have to bow or anything anymore, but the guards’ll still hafta show proper respect to the princess with a formal salute before we take to the skies.”

“He… he is saying these things on purpose, right?!” Rain asks, waving a hoof at the foal. “There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s implying, is there?”

Cure looks up at the stallion and gives him the “confused dog” head tilt.

“Cure,” his dam calls in a warning tone.

“Yes, dam?” he innocently asks.

“You’re not giving anypony medications,” she sternly instructs. “What happened with the other ambassadors?”

“The griffons invited me to visit and gave me a special gladius of some kind. The princess told ‘em I may be allowed to visit them when I’m older. Yo, Red?”

“Hm?”

“Maybe you and yer sire should take a look at the sword. They said it’s made of somethin called skysteel.”

Onyx Mark shoots to his hooves, nearly knocking over Midnight Gem and Diamond Pick, earning a couple annoyed glares. With wide, excited eyes he echoes, “Skysteel?! I’ve never even seen the stuff!”

“It’s in my closet,” he says, motioning with his head towards his room.

The stallion looks at the door and glances back asking for permission and, with a shallow nod from the colt, takes off with a quick, “Be right back!” The mares both roll their eyes in fond exasperation, but make room for him when he returns, sword held between his teeth. Rain, Thunder, Ferric, Drift, Haze, and Heavy gather around with rapt attention as he draws it from the scabbard to analyze the blade.

“Here,” Cure calls, tossing him a Light crystal as he continues, “So yeah, the griffons were pretty nice. I’m really interested in their magic, but I’m guessing they may not be super eager to share that.”

“Think they cast like zebras?” Title asks.

“Dunno. I’ve never seen a zebra with a staff. Do they use them?”

“They can,” Haze answers, “but the vast majority of Zebra casting is done via ritual or through their alchemy. My understanding is that theirs is based largely on nature and, supposedly, the less corruptive aspects of dark magic.”

“Nature? Like what earth ponies innate magic?”

Haze shrugs noncommittally. “In all likelihood, yes. To be honest, I have almost no knowledge on casting non-runic spells. Obviously I’ve never dabbled in dark magic, either.”

“So earth ponies could, in theory, learn to use the same magic that zebras use?”

“Of course. If you could find a teacher. As you guessed with the griffons, such knowledge is tightly controlled. Dark magic is not to be dabbled in at all, obviously.”

“Huh. Hey sarge, wanna try an experiment?”

“That depends,” he responds, eyeing the colt with no small amount of trepidation.

Cure furrows his brow at the odd look. “I find your lack of faith disturbing, sergeant.”

The stallion spares Deed and Title a glance as the pair share a chuckle. “I seem to recall an experiment involving my son blasting you to the point of sending you flying,” he idly remarks.

“That was conducted safely and in a controlled environment!”

“It was conducted at a firing range with no adult supervision!”

“Solar was an adult and what better place to fire off spells than a firing range?!”

“Cure!” his dam shouts, “Stop sassing Mr. Haze!”

The colt’s pout is met with an unflinching glare from the green mare. “Fiiine! Jeez! I just wanted to see if he could use a staff instead of his horn!”

“Oh,” Haze quietly mumbles. “I’ve never tried. If you recall, I once mentioned my proficiency with direct shaping is… subpar, at best.”

“I’ll try!” Dawn instantly volunteers. “Do you have a staff?”

“Sure, here ya go.” Cure reaches into his mane and pulls out a meter long, quarter hoof in diameter milky white staff and passes it to her.

She takes it in her hoof and looks it over. “What in the hay is that made of? It feels… weird,” she slowly comments.

“I made it from the same thing horns are made of on the outside with a bone core on the inside to strengthen it.”

Dawn immediately drops the staff like it’s on fire, wrinkling her snout as she exclaims, “Gross!”

“That’s awesome!” Drift shouts, darting over to snatch it up. “How do I cast a spell?”

“It won’t work,” Haze interrupts. “I assume you made that just now?”

“Yeah…”

“Then even if you,” he says, turning to face the filly, “had experience shaping magic, the staff would resist it. I suspect quite thoroughly, given his nature. Perhaps in a month once the metaphysical connection has weaned you could use it. At that point I cannot fathom its value as a casting focus.”

“It’s worth a lot?!” Drift excitedly asks, eyeing the staff with naked desire.

“You’re holding, for all intents and purposes, an alicorn bone and horn staff,” he mildly answers. “If it works as well as I suspect it will then its value is immeasurable to hornless casters. Perhaps high powered unicorns, even, given the magic throughput is likely an order of magnitude beyond what their own horn could achieve.

“Consider a material capable of channeling sufficient magic that not even a meter of it is required to move the sun,” he suggests, waving at the staff. “There is no number I could give that may accurately convey its worth to the right parties.”

“He’s right,” Amethyst chimes in. “I can’t give ya a number either, Crosswind, but mah talent is sayin that there staff is worth tens ‘a thousands ‘a bits, easily. Assumin it works like ya say.”

“... Maybe you should take that back, Cure,” Thunder suggests with a cringe.

Recognizing the potential danger, Drift nods in agreement and, with great reluctance, passes the staff back to the colt. Cure can’t help but chuckle at the pitiable look on the filly’s face. “Jeez, Drift… yer giving me something I made in a second. Why do you look like you’re passing over your own wings?”

“It’s unique and awesome and valuable!”

“I can make a dozen in a few minutes.”

“Perhaps you should make her highness aware of that,” Haze suggests. “A dozen of those staves in the hooves of her more powerful casters could be extremely useful under the right circumstances.”

“Good point,” he agrees. “Lemme test it first.” Haze shuffles slightly away from the colt as he holds the staff in his right hoof, pointing the top up towards the ceiling. The feeling is almost exactly the same as when he channels magic into his actual horn; unsurprising given that it is, essentially, the same thing.

Without any nerves or muscles inside the staff there is no way to vibrate it like a real horn would, but Cure has plenty of experience with the Light spell. Thanks to the months of experience channeling magic through his hoof instead of his head, he has no problem crafting the spell containment circle; a thin one sufficient for a cantrip level spell.

He adds in the secondary “Light” effect circle within it and sets the function he has come to understand is the wavelength span to correctly generate white light, then connects the effect start and end point targeting matrices to the end of the staff. The power siphon fills the rest of the tiny circle, connecting his internal mana pool to the light effect circle with a thin, solid line so the brightness isn’t too high.

With the diagram complete he wills forth his magic, “executing” the spell, and continues to supply a trickle of power to the input to maintain the soft glow. A weak, but detectable hum reverberates through the staff as energy courses through it.

“Well done,” Haze compliments, nodding in approval.

“Why do you even need a staff at all?” Heavy asks.

Haze answers before Cure or Dawn can speak up. “To focus the energy. Think of casting a spell like drawing a diagram with magic as the ink,” he begins, pausing as Cure cuts off the Light and uses his Illusion crystal to display the Light spell’s diagram.

Haze waves to the Illusion and continues, “Precisely. One must include the necessary elements, of course. You can see the symbol for the lighting effect, the indicator for the color,” he pauses as Cure shifts the wavelength indicator down for the red, then up higher to cycle through the rainbow while altering the Illusion’s color to match. “Very impressive, Cure. The use of Illusions for a visual aid is a fantastic idea.”

“Thanks!”

“So,” the stallion continues, “just as the symbols and equations to execute the spell must be present, the sharpness and definition with which the ‘drawing’ is crafted will impact the result. Horns,” he motions up to his own, “provide a medium that allows much, much greater precision during the process. Perhaps a very talented and experienced mage could cast some basic spells without one, but they would never be able to do anything complex or powerful.”

“It would be like drawing with a crayon instead of a pencil,” Cure clarifies. “Except if you do a really bad job you may blow up instead of getting points deducted ‘cause Miss Apple can’t read your hoofwriting.”

“A good, if somewhat extreme, example,” the stallion agrees. “The size of a staff and its composition are important as well. For lower tiered spells a staff only a couple hooves long would suffice -”

“Hear that babe, yer an archwizard,” Lemon not-too-quietly giggles as she nips at Deed’s ear. Several curious eyes roam to the blushing stallion as he maintains his focus on the twins between his forelegs.

“Lemon Sweet!” Vines scolds, scowling at the yellow mare.

Haze clears his throat and continues, fighting down the uncomfortable blush that has slightly darkened his already red cheeks. “- but for more powerful effects, larger, more complex designs are required.”

Cure projects the Teleport diagram alongside the Light diagram to demonstrate. Both are enlarged for easier viewing, but the far higher power demand and integrated spell abort sequences and other safeties present in the more complex spell necessitates a spell circle over a dozen times the diameter as the other, housing numerous internal sub-spell sequences within it.

“What. The. Fuck?!” Drift softly mumbles under her breath as she looks the Illusion over. Despite being loud enough that everypony could easily hear her, they all seem too distracted by the display and its implications to scold the filly.

Haze lets out a groan as he looks over the diagram. “And now you know why so very few unicorns attempt to cast with direct magic shaping. Imagine holding that diagram in the forefront of your mind while shaping the magic externally and adjusting the necessary variables for mass and destination. Especially in a combat scenario. Somepony that could do that would be amongst the top half of a percent of mages anywhere,” he finishes, turning to give the colt a look of envy.

He’s not the only one; nearly every pony aside from his own parents are looking between the young alicorn and the Illusions as if they’re seeing, truly seeing, him for the first time. The awed expressions make him uncomfortable, especially from the other foals.

“I’ve always told y’all I cheat,” he demures.

“That’s not cheating,” Coast idly comments. “That’s just… I don’t even know.”

“Straight cow manure,” Drift supplies.

He offers an innocent shrug, aware that their accusations are fair. “That’s what I’ve always said,” he defends. “Which is exactly why I give so much. I’ll never be able to level the playing field, but at least I can try.”

Dawn twists her head and nuzzles her cheek up into his chin, silently supporting the colt.

“It’s admirable you do, son,” Haze offers. “Plenty of ponies with such opportunities have chosen another path, which is unfortunate.”

“It’s also probably a big part of why you’re an alicorn and they’re not,” Thunder agrees.

“That and they didn’t get cream pied by another alicorn,” Sapphire agrees with a sage nod. “Cure didn’t explode ‘till he was covered from snout to tail in the stuff!” Drift barks out a laugh and falls over, giggling in a heap on the floor. Heavy, Glacial, Coast, Dawn, and Rising seem somewhat confused at the behavior. Ferric, interestingly, pins her ears back and nearly glows crimson.

Every adult head slowly swivels to face the aqua filly. Onyx, sword still in hoof, pans back to the colt with a completely flat look. “Oh my,” Midnight quietly mumbles, covering her muzzle with a hoof and glowing even darker than her already purple coat.

“The princess had us throw whipped cream pies at him as a prank,” Title explains, cutting into the otherwise silent room. “It just happened to be right after a ritual, of a sort, that he came up with. It blasted a bunch of magic through him to make a trellis of flowers bloom, causing the crystals he was carrying to... well... explode.”

A round of “Oooooohh!”s sound out as realization dawns on the group.

“Speaking of the princess,” he says, seizing the opportunity to change the subject, “I should ask her if she wants a few of these.

<< Hey boss, got any use for an alicorn horn staff? Sgt. Haze said it may make a good casting focus once the metaphysical connection wears off. >>

<< You made a staff out of the same material as your horn?! >>

The princess’s incredulity doesn’t escape the colt as he responds, << Yeah, we were talkin about the griffon attaché and it came up. I made one to try it out. >>

The sound of a sigh enters his mind. That she took the time to cast the spell and wasted the magic to sigh in his direction causes the colt to laugh again. At the curious stares he explains, “She’s so completely done with me she actually Sent me a sigh!” earning a few quiet giggles from the group.

<< If you do not mind, we could test a few to determine their effectiveness >> she suggests. << Please leave them in your bedroom and I will have a guard come by and collect them. >>

<< Sure thing, boss! >>

“She said to leave a few in my room and somepony’ll come pick ‘em up so they can test ‘em. If she wants more I’ll make ‘em when I come back for the Squads Competition.”

A grimace crosses Thunder’s face as her ears droop. “Sucks I won’t be able to join this year,” she sighs. “Probably should have thought about that before Hearts and Hooves.”

Haze waves away the concern. “There will always be next year. Private Reed may not have your experience, but she’s certainly not lacking in enthusiasm.”

As the guards continue discussing the upcoming competition and the others continue to drool over the gladius, Vines asks about Cure’s final meeting for the morning.

“The minotaur ambassador was a total prick,” he answers. “Called me an abomination, then made an accusation that I did something to that embassy worker’s daughter or her calf. The princess got ticked off enough she expelled him on the spot.”

“She threw him out of the castle?” Title repeats back.

“Out of the country,” Cure clarifies. “From what she said he’ll be on a boat back home by the end of the month.” He offers a helpless shrug and remarks, “Ya can’t please everycreature, I guess. Enough about that idiot, though. I’ve only got tonight to celebrate and relax before I gotta head back to help Baltimare, so let’s hit the festival and absolutely pig out!”

“Funnel Cake! I can smell it! Come to meeee my sweet, delicious, powdery friend!” Despite the unusually rough morning, Cure can’t help but take in the energy in the air. As expected, the pegasi absolutely nailed the weather. A steady breeze keeps the otherwise hot summer sun at bay and an occasional light cloud drifting by provides brief moments of shade.

Though far busier than anything Cure has seen outside of Edward’s memories, the square has enough vendors that lines aren’t too ridiculous, even if they are slightly longer than he would prefer.

Far fewer members of the group elected to join the herd of foals than he expected. Between exhaustion from staying out overnight, the lack of desire to put up with the crowds, or the preference to take advantage of the rare opportunity to see the castle’s grounds, only a hooffull of adults joined the group. Snowstorm Burst, Thunder Dance, and Spring Showers are carrying Frigid, Swirling, and Thunder. Gleaming Haze volunteered to carry Summer Cloud on his withers and help keep an eye on everypony.

“Don’t you think we should have lunch first?” Haze mildly asks as the group trails behind the eager foal.

“Funnel cake is lunch, Mr. Haze. Dawn, I’m disappointed in your failure to educate your sire on proper nutrition for growing foals.”

“I’ve tried my best,” she pouts. “Dam just has him trained too well.”

“I am not trained and you shouldn’t fill up on sweets, Cure,” the unicorn huffs with a roll of his eyes.

Cure pauses mid step to look up in question. “Why?”

“Proper nutrition is…” he starts, trailing off as it occurs to him who he’s talking to. “You know what?” he sighs, “I suppose I’ll have a couple myself.”

“That’s the spirit, sarge,” Thunder cheers. “I’m eating for three, so I wouldn’t mind a few either. Lead the way, colt.”

The other foals watch on in amusement as Cure makes his way through the crowd, occasionally stopping and sticking his snout up in the air to follow the sugary scent. “Like a puppy,” Coast casually comments, snickering at his silly behavior.

“So what I’m hearing is that you don’t want one too,” he mildly suggests over his withers.

“I didn’t say that!” she instantly denies.

“That’s what I thought…” he trails off, finally spotting the stall with the sugary confections.

“We’ll go get a couple tables!” Thunder shouts as she waves most of the foals to follow. Only Haze, with Summer still on his withers, and Dawn stay with the colt in line.

“You don’t have to pay for everything, you know?” Haze points out. “We may just be guards, but we do get paid.”

“You all traveled here to support me, sarge,” Cure softly responds. He leans into the stallion’s side and adds, “Everypony took days off of work and traveled all the way here ‘cause ya care. The least I can friggin do is buy y’all some treats when we go out.”

“Of course we’d be here for you, Cure,” Dawn says, nuzzling into his mane.

“Quite right,” her sire agrees. “Besides, we’ve not had to pay for travel, lodging, food, or anything else the whole time. My only regret regarding the whole affair is that I cannot brag about it to everypony,” he explains with a chuckle.

“Eventually you’ll be able to,” Cure assures him. “Hopefully not anytime soon, though.”

As the three stand in line their attention is drawn to the stage filling the center of the square. The band that had been playing is wrapping up their performance to the cheers of the surrounding ponies. With the last strum of the lead’s guitar the announcer hops onto the stage and calls out to the audience. “Let’s give another round of applause for Silky Smooth and the Jazzers, everypony!”

Keeping an ear pointed in the direction of the stage, Cure makes his way to the front of the line. “Yo!” he calls in greeting, rearing up to put his forehooves on the window. “Can we get thirty funnel cakes and seventeen large lemonades, please?”

“Pink!” Dawn shouts.

“... sixteen and a single pink one, please,” he amends.

The mare looks at Haze who nods in approval. “That’ll be forty-seven bits, sugar.”

Cure tosses a few coins on the sill. “Keep the change!” She scoops the coins up with a grateful smile and disappears from the window, hollering the order back to the staff running the friers before moving on to the next pony in line.

“We’ve got another fun event coming up in a few minutes!” the announcer continues to the crowd’s cheers. “That’s right, everypony! The Prince Serpentus look-alike contest is up next! Colts, fillies, mares, and stallions are all welcome to join in, pony or not! Make your last minute adjustments, folks, and gather on the east side of the stage! Don’t be late, we're starting soon!”

A small smile creeps across the colt’s muzzle as an idea forms. “No,” Dawn immediately insists, jabbing her hoof into his chest.

“No what?” he asks, absently rubbing a hoof where she hit him.

“I know how that crazy brain of yours works,” she sternly accuses. “You’ll see if there’s a prize and go magic up a costume that’s almost perfect.” Haze chuckles fondly as he watches his daughter poke the disguised alicorn again. “You’re not entering the contest, you understand?”

Ears and tail drooping, Cure hangs his head like a scolded puppy. “I wasn’t gonna,” he weakly defends. Dawn arches a single brow in challenge at his declaration. “Probably,” he amends. “I probably wasn’t gonna. Maybe.”

“Why would you?!” He arches a brow at the question so she adds, “What prize could they possibly offer that you would even care about?”

“I dunno.” He perks up and looks at the stage. “Maybe it’s a mystery box!”

“A… mystery box?” she slowly repeats.

“Mmhmm!” he hums, nodding eagerly. “Who can defy the allure of the mystery box?! It could be anything!”

Dawn wrinkles her snout and gives him a hard look. “Is this one of your weird things you do?”

“Wut?”

“It sounded like you were quoting something. You do or say random things then try to play it off like your normal weirdness.”

“... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insists, turning his snout defiantly away.

She stares for another moment. Finally, seemingly after minutes she blows out a sigh and rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she huffs, “either way you’re not going up there.”

He pouts at the orange filly and quietly mumbles, “Yer not my boss.”

Haze winces and takes a half step away from the pair. “Oof. Wrong thing to say, son.”

“I’m not your boss,” she agrees, “but somepony has to stop you from doing dumb stuff when your dam isn’t around!”

“I don’t do dumb stuff!” he weakly argues. He wilts under her stare, then looks to her sire pleadingly.

The stallion is quietly chuckling while watching the young couple. “Don’t look at me,” he insists. “You lost the argument before it started, Cure. The only advice I can offer is to accept the inevitable before you dig the hole even deeper.”

Cure sulks but nods in acceptance. “Fiiine! I won’t join the stupid contest.”

“Good colt,” she responds, patting him between his ears with her telekinesis and earning herself a scowl.

“What if Heavy wants to join?” he asks.

Summer leaps off of Haze’s withers and lands on Cure, standing on his withers and brow as she leans over to ask, “Can big bro win more ice cream?!”

“Maybe, Sunny. I don’t know what the prizes are,” he answers. “Besides,” he not-whispers, “the bossy filly would probably say no.”

Dawn groans and rubs her forehead, then looks to her sire for help. “It’s a fair question,” he muses. “Your friend has the right build. Almost. More than many here will, at least.”

Cure frantically waves a hoof pointing at the stallion. “Yeah! Good point, sarge!”

“You’re not helping, daddy!” she growls.

“I beg to differ, glowbug,” he argues with a chuckle. “I’m helping pass the time by entertaining myself.”

Dawn lets out an inarticulate growl while stomping one hoof after another.

“Aww, c’mon,” Cure calls. He leans agaisnt her side, drapes his neck over her withers and nuzzles into the right side of her neck. Summer lends a hoof too, hugging the other side of the filly’s head with her left wing. “We’re just teasing ya, Sunrise. I’m not going to join the contest. Let’s just enjoy our treats, maybe get some real food, see what the vendors have for sale, find a couple games for RP to inexplicably whoop us at, then go back to the castle where I’ll give ya a nice, relaxing massage.”

“With hands?” she asks, doing her best to not sound overly eager.

“With hands,” he agrees, nuzzling his snout into the base of her ear.

“Deal.”

“Totally whipped,” Haze notes. “Well done, sweetheart. Your dam would be so proud.”

“Order up!” is called from the pickup line where stacks and stacks of food and drinks are piled high.

The three share a look in realization that carrying so much may prove somewhat difficult with only two horns between them. Summer hops back over to Haze’s back who sets a laden tray on Cure. Dawn takes several of the trays of treats, and Haze grabs as many drinks as he can safely carry. It only takes a couple trips for everything to be ferried over to the rest of the herd where everypony starts digging in.

As soon as the colt hops up between Dawn and Heavy, Drift motions her head back towards the stage. “You heard the announcer, right?”

Mouth full of soft, delicious heaven, Cure nods to the affirmative. “Somepony doesn’t want me joining in,” he whines, flicking his eyes to his right while studiously avoiding the orange filly’s glare.

“That would be pretty unfair, dude,” Heavy points out. Cure can’t help but nod in agreement. He never really intended to join, and especially not try to win, but harassing Dawn and getting a chuckle out of her sire was worth the effort. “What’s the prize, anyhow?”

Glacial points her wing at a sign set up on the stage. “The winner from each group gets a set of alicorn plushies and a huge coupon book for a bunch of free stuff from the stores here. Second place gets a Serpentus plushie and a fifty bit bakery gift card and third place just gets a toy.” Cure cranes his neck to see past her and Drift and, as best he can over the sea of heads and bodies, catches that Canterlot Confectionary Creations, along with a number of other companies and agencies, including the local RHA, are sponsoring the event.

“You should do Heavy and have him join the foals’ competition!” Drift eagerly suggests.

“Ehh, I said that too, but… why bother? It’s not like we live here to use the card and I can just make you all plushies if you want. Also, I have literally thousands of bits on me. Let somepony else have it.” Cure normally wouldn’t be so blaise about how much cash he’s carrying, but with the throng of ponies and other creatures about and the general background noise of the crowd he isn’t worried about somepony listening in on a conversation at a table full of foals.

“You’re coming back in a couple months, but… I guess,” she starts to argue before conceding, glancing at the gathering crowd of ponies and a few other creatures lining up by the stage. “It’s probably too late to sign up anyhow.”

“OOOH!” Sapphire shouts, bouncing in excitement to Drift’s right, “You should show up to judge it!”

“That’s… not a bad idea, actually.”

“I would much prefer you not,” Haze interrupts from further down the table. “I do not know what his highness’s policy is in regards to public event attendance, but I believe a guard escort is preferable until he is older.”

“Aww, it’d be fun, sarge!” Thunder teases, flashing the unicorn a forced, fake smile. Haze just rolls his eyes at the white mare in exasperation.

“It would probably excite everypony,” Snowstorm mildly points out, then concedes Haze’s point, “maybe a little too much, though.”

Cure’s face contorts in annoyance, his snout scrunches, and shoulders sag slightly at the valid argument. “Fine!” he huffs, “I wouldn’t want to start a riot anyhow. I’d probably just get yelled at by everymare but my moms.” Dawn definitely. The princess wouldn’t yell, but he would expect a mild rebuke. His dam, most likely, would be the worst with her kind, but disappointed look that he’s only been on the receiving end a few times, thank the maker.

“Maybe when you’re here for school,” Snowstorm suggests.

“I’ve talked it over with my folks. I’ll probably be in disguise as a unicorn and staying on campus, only droppin in my room,” he tilts his head slightly in the direction of the castle, “on occasion. Who knows?” he grouses, “It feels like I don’t even have a week go by before some kind of craziness pops up, so guessing what’ll happen a year from now feels like an exercise in futility.”

The crystal mare bobs her head in agreement. “You do seem to stay pretty busy… especially for a foal.”

“You should go to school as an earth pony!” Sapphire excitedly suggests. “How awesome would it be to have an earth pony mage get into the princess’s school?”

Cure’s eyes go wide at the suggestion. It’s brilliant and awesome and something he’d never even considered.

“You do have a staff now,” her sister agrees. “Wish I’d thought of that when I made yours.”

“That’s brilliant, Red! I can copy your design for a real staff if you’re okay with it.” The filly smiles broadly at the suggestion and bobs her head in agreement.

“I’ve never seen a legitimate earth pony mage,” Haze comments thoughtfully.

“How many civilian unicorns take the time to learn to be a real mage?” Thunder rhetorically asks.

“True… true.” He motions with his head towards Cure and adds, “That your cutie mark has a staff on it could work to your advantage here. An earth pony using magic like a unicorn would draw an enormous amount of attention. Since your cutie mark displays one, it may deflect much of the attention, especially since everypony will wonder how an earth pony foal is casting spells via direct shaping and keeping up with runic casting unicorns.”

“I could add in the necessary stuff to cast runic spells,” Cure points out.

The suggestion brings Haze up short; the idea of the necessary nerve and muscle connections being added in clearly never occurred to the stallion. “That… would likely be chalked up to your talent. It could work,” he slowly nods in agreement.

“That would also solve the problem of me being able to do business while attending school,” Cure adds. “I can just do everything as me, myself, right here in the capital. That should be good cover for me being in the city at all. I can attend the school, do business here during the week, and ‘catch a train,’” he says with air quotes, “home, see customers Saturday morning in Golden Hills, and have Sunday to hang out before coming back.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Snowstorm mumbles. All the other foals nod in agreement as they continue cramming their snack in their faces.

“I have a lot of customers back home I don’t want to just leave hangin,” he offers with a shrug. “That’s money I’m just leaving behind completely. I figure I’ll get as many customers taken care of as I can over the next six months, then announce the business is relocating starting next August aside from one day a week.”

“When will we be able to hang out?” Glacial almost sadly asks.

“Saturday evenings and all day Sunday,” he answers with a shrug. “There’ll be breaks for winter and spring too.”

“They’re starting,” Rising call outs, pointing a hoof at the stage. “Wanna get closer so we can see better?”

A round of agreements sound out and everypony quickly finishes their food and makes their way closer to the stage.

“Alright, everypony!” the announcer begins, “First up is our foal’s competition! Everypony under fifteen is ready! Contestants will come out, show off their costume, and step off stage. Judges will pick the top five, then you, the audience will cheer to pick the winners!”

One by one, a few dozen foals come up on stage in Serpentus disguises of all types. Most are just brown and gold colored unicorn foals with fake wings. The pegasi seem to have an easier time of it; as he’d pointed out to his friends on occasion, putting together a fake horn is a lot easier than fake wings. The upsettingly few earth pony participants had the most work cut out for them, of course, but at least they have the advantage of having the right body shape.

Given the quality of some of the costumes, Cure can only assume that the event must have been promoted well in advance. He regrets not hearing about it beforehoof simply because then his friends could have, if they so desired, participated without his direct help. They still would have had a significant advantage with him being able to either model for them or hoof them over a picture.

Eventually the parade of colts and fillies, as well as a few adults carrying their younger foals on their backs, comes to an end. The judges must have been evaluating the costumes only, as the majority of the finalists were fillies. A colt did still win it; a pegasus with what seemed to be fairly close natural coloration to Cure’s disguise.

With the foal’s competition over there’s a short break in the action while the adults all gather to the side of the stage. Cure idly wonders if he should get close enough to really check out the adult participants. Thoughts of a changeling joining the competition to drink up the adulation cross his mind, but he dismisses it out of hoof. Making a spectacle of one’s self is exactly the opposite kind of behavior he would expect from an undercover bug. Instead, it’s more likely that if they’re free at all, a bug would be better off in the crowd, covertly sipping at the nearly palpable excitement in the air.

While the adult competition is starting Cure subtly begins looking around as best he can from his diminutive perspective, paying extra special attention to the air to see if he can detect the coppery smell of hemolymph from anypony nearby or if he can pick up anypony’s breath that is lacking evidence of having consumed physical sustenance.

After several minutes coming up empty, his attention is yanked back to the stage when an unnatural silence settles across the crowd. The three adults are all conspicuously looking between him and the stallion on stage; a rather muscular and slightly taller pegasus that Cure suspects may have some earth pony blood in him. Further confusing the colt, Drift is nearly rolling on the ground laughing, Sapphire looks on indifferently, Heavy is giving him a thoroughly confused look, and Dawn, Coast, Rising, Glacial, and Ferric are all blushing furiously.

The announcer quickly joins the stallion on stage and, quite gruffly, shoo’s him off, speaking too quietly for her voice amplifier to pick up.

Wondering what he’d missed, he turns to his bro and asks, “What’s going on? I wasn’t watching… what'd he do?”

The colt is at a loss for words, stammering “uhh” and “umm” until Ferric quietly speaks up in answer. “He had a costume that was… inappropriate,” she explains, glowing even more red than before.

“Inappropriate?” he asks, earning a round of nods. He cranes his neck as best he can to see what the problem is, confusion growing when he doesn’t spot anything in particular wrong. The stallion, now off the stage, is arguing with the judges, waving a hoof at himself then towards the Sun Monument in the east. “Inappropriate how? I don’t see anything wrong with it from here.”

“It’s not important,” Haze deflects.

“I think most stallions would disagree,” Thunder mumbles under her breath, barely stifling a snicker.

“Quiet, Thunder!” Snowstorm quietly hisses.

Cure gets a sinking feeling when he hears a few of the crowd mumbling about an “extra set” or “two of them.” Finally, barely getting it out between peals of laughter, Drift banishes all doubt when she blurts out, “He had a fake second wiener!”

“Oh,” he quietly comments. The lack of reaction from the colt gets even more curious stares from the herd. Ears pinning back of their own volition, Cure’s mind races as he seeks a way to change the subject. “Soooooooooooo…” he drawls out, looking around, “anypony else up for some candied apples?” he asks, voice full of hope.

“He had an extra set of those too,” Thunder mildly claims, sending Drift into another round of laughter.

“Well… points for being thorough, I guess. The important thing is that nopony tells you-know-who about this.”

Scoffing, Haze immediately responds, “I damn sure wasn’t going to.” Both mares quickly nod their heads in agreement, as do all of the foals not presently laughing themselves stupid.

“Good. We wouldn’t want him getting in trouble for a silly prank.”

“Uh huh,” the stallion agrees. “Yes, we’re all very concerned about somepony getting in trouble with her. It’s certainly not that we wouldn’t want to be present when she finds out.”

Cure shrugs in response, mildly pointing out, “The train leaves tomorrow evening.”

Sunday, June 21st 909 AB (the next morning)

The alarm off the IV blared again, screeching in his ears. He doesn’t care, doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn his head to look. She’s gone. They couldn’t save her and nothing he could do would ever bring her back. Another round of sobs escapes as the alarm continues.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Unable to muster the strength to even cry out her name, Edward writhes in his bed completely oblivious to the sounds of the alarm, the sounds of his convulsing coughs, even the pain in his throat, chest, and abdomen.

Why does everyone I care about have to die?!

Wait… I can heal! Why didn’t I heal her?!

I let her die?! Why did I let her die?! I could have saved her!

“Cure?”

”CYNDI!”

“CURE!”

Wings unfurl and shoot out, spreading fully. He springs to his hooves in a panic. His horn explodes out of his neck, snapping into place, igniting in a blaze of gold mixed with his normal chocolate aura, filling the room with light.

Shouts of alarm and annoyance sound out from the other foals as a pained groan is heard from the floor. “Cure! What the hay?!” Dawn shouts, rolling onto her haunches and pushing herself up from the ground.

“What? he asks in confusion, slowly shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. With his mind finally catching up to his body, he dims his horn and gives everypony a quick glance before carefully padding to the edge of the bed, levitating the downed filly back up and wrapping her in a hug, simultaneously healing the few mild abrasions she suffered from the fall.

The filly leans into the hug for a moment, wrapping her forelegs around his neck and squeezing him tight.

“Nightmare?” she asks in a whisper.

He silently nods against her neck.

“Want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head no, holding in a sob but unable to suppress the quiver in his chest.

“It’s alright. Lay down,” she insists, pointing a hoof between Rising and Glacial. With one last squeeze he lets her go, snuggling between the snoozing fillies and gently resting a wing on each. Dawn climbs on his withers and wraps her forelegs under his wingpits and around his chest, nuzzling into his mane as he drifts back to sleep.

Sunday, June 21st 909 AB

Buried in a pile of foals, Cure slowly came to as the sun’s first rays of the day cast a halo of light around the closed blinds. It’s not enough to wake him normally, but with the constant dreams kept him on the edge of wakefulness for most of the night. He, along with his friends, had taken a long bath after getting cleaned up, so after the morning necessities were taken care of, everypony hit the Cleaning crystal, enjoyed a quiet breakfast, and gathered back in his room to wish him off.

Snuggled atop her eldest, Vines rests her chin between his ears and gently rubs all over his head and face. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait and go with us? The train ride wasn’t bad and your sisters will miss you.”

“I’m sure, dam. Dr. Care should be tellin everypony that I’ll be there by noon, so all the dams and foals from this morning will be waitin for me. It’ll only be one day anyhow; I’ll make it up to ‘em tomorrow night.”

She nods in understanding, even if she can’t help but ask, “And you’ll be okay flying that far then working all day?”

“I probably wouldn’t have before, but I just don’t get tired like that like I did last time. Don’t worry, me ‘n my escort will go straight to the hospital, I’ll eat in the cafeteria, lend a hoof for five or six hours, then spend the night with Wind Shear and Mr. Flare. It won’t be a long work day like I’ve been doing.”

Celestia interjects asking, “Are you sure you would not prefer to stay at the Lady Baltimare? The Royal Suite there is quite nice and I could have guards from Fort Meadow set up a rotation for the night.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll sleep better with somepony else than I would alone in a hotel room anyhow.”

“We could come too!” Glacial excitedly suggests. “We could all go together and split up past Hollow Shades!” Drift perks up, clearly excited at the prospect of flying so far all at once.

“I mean… maybe?” he tentatively asks, looking between the filly’s parents and the princess.

The ancient mare shrugs and bobs her head in acceptance of the idea. “That would be up to your parents,” she defers. “If you intend to do so, I recommend you leave immediately to get a head start and so that you are not all seen flying together. Your dams are early enough in their pregnancies that I do not foresee any issue.”

“Will you be able to keep all of us in the air?” Rain asks. “That’s a lot of ponies to heal.”

“I should be able to. I was able to keep my sire and six of the guards running at peak every Friday, and that was back before my magic tripled.”

“If you want to, go ahead,” Snowstorm tells her husband. “That’s too far for me. I can take Swirling with me on the train if you want to go,” she says as she turns to Thunder.

“That’s six more ponies that know who you are,” the white pegasus points out. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“I think almost every pony that works at the castle knows, Mrs. Dance. I’m already on borrowed time with the whole ‘secret identity’ thing, so six guards from Fort Meadow probably won’t make a lick of difference. Besides, I can change your appearance slightly like I was going to for when we go out,” he adds, motioning between him and the two pegasus fillies.

“True,” she concedes. “If you’re sure another four won’t be a strain for you,” she pauses as he shakes his head no, “then sure! We’ll find a nice cloud a little ways east of Canterlot and wait for you there.”

Plan set, Cure quickly gives Rain, Thunder, Drift, and Glacial a variant of his brown and gold Serpentus disguise and a set of flight suits before the four take off from the balcony. With a last round of “see you tomorrow” nuzzles and hugs from everypony else, Cure dons his Serpentus colors and regalia, stows his sword in a bit pouch, grows out his own suit, and joins the princess as they make their way to the main castle entrance.

“Auntie! Serpentus!” Blueblood calls out in greeting, prancing over to the pair with his family on his tail. He gives Celestia his customary hug, then when they separate, turns and scoops up Cure in a tight embrace. “Safe journeys, young stallion! I do so look forward to when next you visit. Early September, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yep! We’re throwin a health fair for the princess’s officers, so I’ll be back in a couple months.”

“Marvelous!” he boisterously cheers, “And when you arrive do let me know. At the very least I insist you allow me to treat you to dinner. La Chaumiere de Velours is a five sun restaurant not far from my primary estate. The dining experience is simply phenomenal!” he exclaims, setting the colt down as he gushes.

“That sounds awesome! I’ll see you all around… September eighth?” he asks, looking up to the princess.

“That is the first day of the competition. I would recommend you travel with the competitors coming from Baltimare a couple days beforehoof. I will have my royal car prepared and waiting for you.”

“Bah! Trains!” he harrumphs.

Celestia rolls her eyes at the impatient colt. “I know you would rather fly, but it simplifies the logistics if you travel with everypony else.”

“Fiiine!” he nearly whines. Turning back, he offers Junior a hoofbump. Being a bro and all, the older colt doesn’t leave him hanging. Both fillies and their dam step forward and give him a departing nuzzle, then fall in behind the group as the three royals take point.

The castle doors swing open, flooding the interior with sunlight. Cure blinks in confusion as a loud “UH-TENNN-SHUN” is bellowed from the courtyard. Cpt. Shield and Lt. Spear stand at attention along with Sgt. Bramble and, from the looks of things, nearly every guard in the garrison not currently patrolling the castle. Lt. Fury and his squad stand off to his right, waiting to depart once he’s ready. At once, the entire company drops into a formal bow.

Caught unprepared, Cure looks up at the princess and cocks a brow in question. She lightly shrugs and assures him, “This was not my idea. They volunteered to come in to see you off.” She waves a hoof to the crowd and explains, “You helped thousands of dams and their foals. Those mares are their daughters, wives, sisters, aunts, and cousins. Even a few of their dams, mothers, and granddaughters. It is only natural that they would want to show their gratitude.”

Senior leans down to whisper, “No need for a speech. Just say thanks.”

Cure nods, then steps forward and clears his throat. He motions for them to rise with his wing and, projecting his voice, calls out, “At ease.” Once everypony is standing and relaxed he continues, “Thank you all for coming out to see me off this morning. That you all volunteered to come in to do so, even if you have today off, tells me two things.

“The first is that the princess, and really, all of Equestria, is fortunate beyond measure to have such kind, dedicated guardians keeping us all safe. The other is that I need to talk to my secretary. The bills for my services should have been in the mail last week. As none of you are wielding pitchforks, clearly that didn’t happen.”

Cure lets out a sigh and shakes his head in disappointment, playing up the act as a round of subdued chuckles escapes the troops. He looks over his withers at the princess and adds, “Also, I should probably hire a secretary at some point.”

“I’m sure you’ll need one eventually.”

He nods in agreement, turns to face her, straightens his posture, and inclines his head to meet her eyes. “Princess Celestia, I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon.”

Smiling faintly, she gives him a shallow nod. “Prince Serpentus, I, too, will look forward to seeing you come September. Farewell, young stallion. Go help our little ponies in Baltimare.” << And don’t forget to let me know how your day went tonight >> she silently adds.

He returns her nod and, without another word, turns and trots between Lt. Fury’s squad and the castle garrison, motioning with his wing for his escort to fall in line. Wings spread, he leaps into the air, pumping just enough to clear the castle walls and turns east.

An eruption of cheers blasts up at the group from the ground. All along the perimeter of the walls ponies and other creatures fill the streets cheering and calling out to the colt. Slowing enough to not immediately overshoot them, he waves down to the crowd as he passes overhead.

A few overeager winged citizens take to the air to follow, quickly finding a patrolling bat or pegasus barring their path and motioning them back down.

The royal entourage does a slow arc around the perimeter to the north, veering eastward over the town center, past the Sun Memorial, then gains altitude and speed, firing off like a squad of jets to the east.

Sunday, June 21st 909 AB (Approximately 12 hours later)

The sound of a couple quick knocks has every ear perked up and pointed to the front of the house. Wind watches in amusement as Drift and her little fillyfriend both bolt for the door, nearly crashing into each other, eager to greet the colt. A few soft chuckles from her parents and Mr. Rain tells her they saw the same thing. The three of them set their books down and her dam gives a flap to hop off the cloud and make her way to the kitchen.

“... can’t friggin wait for a shower,” the disguised alicorn comments as he makes his way in the room with a worried looking filly boxing him in on either side.

Wind can’t help but feel a little concerned for him too; the way he’s almost drunkenly wobbling on his hooves shows just how exhausted he is. “Good evening, your highness,” she formally calls, her voice absolutely dripping in mockery.

The colt scoffs and rolls his eyes, lazily flicking his right wing while being careful not to hit Glacial. “Your highness my fluffy brown butt. How you been, Bouncy? Any luck with the job hunt?”

“I start next Monday at City Hall, actually,” she proudly replies. A runner for the reception desk isn’t the most glorious summer job, but it still pays, at least.

“A friggin waste for chump change,” he declares, yawning at the same time and nuzzling against Glacial. “Should look into modeling or something with those long legs and that beautiful mane,” he tiredly blurts out, leaning heavily on the platinum filly. Unaware of the heat climbing up her muzzle and the wide-eyed stares from the rest of the room, he continues, “Hell, I could give ya a stack of flyers ta hoof out and kick back ten percent of anypony you send my way. Make some real money.”

“Is he… alright?” Mr. Rain hesitantly asks. “He didn’t seem that tired when we separated… though that was quite a while ago.”

“’m fine,” Cure mumbles at the same time Glacial shakes her head no. “He didn’t sleep the night before his coronation and Dawn said he had nightmares all last night. I think he’s been awake since Friday morning, basically.”

“Fine, I am a little tired,” he begrudgingly admits. “I just need some food and a nice hot shower.” Everpony pauses when he scents the air, craning his neck over Drift’s withers towards the kitchen. “Speakin of which, something smells good,” he comments, loudly licking his chops.

Dam’s voice carries through the doorway, calling the colt to come and eat. Both girls blush when he perks up and wraps a huge, powerful wing around each, merrily pulling them along to the dining room.

Mr. Rain warily glances to the doorway and, in a hushed voice, asks, “Is he… safe to be around?”

“Probably?” her sire postulates with a clear lack of certainty. “You all will be fine, at least,” he comments, scrunching his snout. “I think I’ll keep my distance, just to play it safe.”

They’re only gone for a few minutes, it seems, before they return with dam trailing behind them. Back in his cerulean and green with his horn visible and his flight suit removed, the colt certainly looks like he feels better. “... on linens, the kitchen, the bathroom. You name it. Cleaning is absolute cow manure, Mrs. Dance. I’ll tell ya what,” he starts, levitating a couple crystals out of his mane and setting them on a nearby endtable, “you and Mr. Rain can each just have one of those.

“They’re just lows, but now that everypony’s learnin how to recharge ‘em on their own they’re worth their weight in gold.”

At the pause in conversation, Wind jumps on the opportunity he casually threw out there. “Were you serious?” The question gets a confused look from the colt until she clarifies, “About the referral thing?”

“Oh! Umm… I guess? With no school I’ve opened my schedule up a lot, so… sure?”

“How much do you make in a week?”

“Well, keep in mind, it’ll only be ten percent of whatever the ponies you send to me pay for, but… a lot. I could see you making a few hundred bits a week, easily. And really, if you go to the right places to advertise, like the Baltimare business district near City Hall, I wouldn’t expect you to need to spend more than a few hours a week working. We’ll have to see if you need a license to pass out ads like that, though. Are you two okay with that?” he asks, glancing between her parents.

“She’s old enough now,” her sire says with a nod.

Wind can feel her excitement growing as she turns to her dam. “As long as she has her Sending crystal on her in case of an emergency.”

“Awesome!” the colt cheers. “Now, not that you’re not already beautiful or anything,” he pauses, glancing at dam, “I mean, how could you not be with a dam like that? But,” he continues over dam’s giggles and her sire’s pout, “how bout after I get some shuteye we talk about what you’d like done to take you from model material all the way up to supermodel levels?”

Author's Note

Pushing this one out a smidge early since I have a lot going on tomorrow. 83 is coming along well and will be ready for next Monday, barring anything really ridiculous happening, at least.

Thanks for reading, folks! Enjoy!