Sunday, June 28th, 909 AB (7 days later)
Just after sunrise

Cure slowly comes to wakefulness, finding himself rolled onto his back with an adorable little sister resting her head on his chest and another right beside her on his belly. Just like himself and all of his friends, the two girls are slowly growing up. He figures by next summer or the one after they’ll be ready to have their own room; a necessity not so much due to their size, but mostly the changes that’ll likely be happening to his own body once he turns ten.

Pony society would be fine with him sleeping snuggled up to the girls for years to come, but the idea of waking up after experiencing a wet dream or even with just regular morning wood while laying between them makes him almost want to retch. He’s confident he can prevent either from being a problem, but the idea of explaining why big brother is sticky and smells weird to either of the sweet fillies is enough to make him exceptionally leery of even trying.

Banishing the disgusting thoughts from his mind, he tilts his head to the side and extends his horn. Snuggling Vines floats from the edge of the bed before getting a Warming cantrip applied to it, then the colt begins the process of carefully lifting the girls off of him and using his TK to slide forward enough to slip the plushie in his place. He can’t help but crack a smile when, unbidden, the image of Indiana Jones swapping a bag of sand for a statue comes to the forefront of his mind.

After a moment, Cure successfully maneuvers himself free and gently lowers the fillies back into place, watching in satisfaction when they nuzzle into the toy’s warm belly. He loops a foreleg over each girl’s back and carefully floats himself off their bed, activates the mid-low Sound Bubble crystal embedded into the room’s runic channel, and quietly sneaks out the door.

A scenting of the air and the lack of sound tells him he’s the first one up. It tells him a few other things concerning the health of his parents’ marriage, but he’s long since gotten used to them forgetting to use a Cleaning crystal before passing out after a night of energetic sex.

Wings spread as far as the hallway allows, he hovers down the hall, makes a quick pit stop in the potty, then Teleports himself a couple meters off the ground right into the kitchen.

Lighting his horn, he cracks open the window over the sink and has a thick stalk of his plant reach in. “Let’s see… peppers, eggs, cheese, mushrooms…” he mumbles to himself, making a mental list of ingredients for breakfast. “I wonder if mom would like sausage… or bacon!” he excitedly ponders aloud.

Powering on the oven’s enchantments, Cure pauses to do the math in his head, then sets it to two hundred degrees and pulls a couple large, copper baking pans from the cupboard. He lines the sheets with conjured parchment paper, arranges the plant-bacon, and slides both into the oven.

A couple pans find their way onto the stovetop to warm. With a quick application of his talent, a sack of mixed ingredients hovers at the end of his plant’s stalk. Butter is dropped into the bottom of the pan and is allowed to melt, then the plant reaches over and extrudes a hefty pre-oxygenated and mixed serving of omelet batter right in the middle. Cure tosses a dash of salt and pepper in each one, watching intently as the mixture bubbles and heats.

He glances to the side, floating the teapot and his Mr. Coffee carafe to the sink before putting the former on one of the smaller burners and dumping the latter in his machine. The stalk reaches over and deposits a clump of prepared dark grounds into the filter, then he flips the lid shut, turns the machine on, and focuses back on the stovetop.

His horn glows softly, encasing the pan and the cooking eggs in his aura before the latter lifts up, flips over, and, without spilling or smearing, lowers back onto the hot surface. The other omelet follows suit, cooking both sides as he pulls enough settings out of the cupboard for everypony.

As each omelet is finished, he floats them out of the pan, fills the inside with cheese, and folds them neatly while setting them on a pre-warmed plate. A half dozen are finished and the last two are in the pan before the clomping sound of hooves on wood can be heard from upstairs. One last egg is dropped in the pan as he floats over a spatula. Savvy’s still too young for an omelet, but she’ll be fine with a bowl of scrambled eggs. Once they start cooking he cracks the oven open, peeking inside to see that the bacon just needs another moment or two.

A parade of mares make their way down the stairs as Amethyst calls out in question, “‘Mornin, colt. Whatchya makin? Smells de-lish-ous, whatever it is!”

“Somethin special for the prettiest bunch’a mares on the planet,” he calls back over his withers. “Go ahead and have a seat, your omelets are waitin for ya and the bacon’s almost ready.” He turns back to the food, making sure nothing burns while they get situated and set his sister up in a high chair. The front door opens and closes as Amethyst walks back in with the paper on her withers.

He feels his dam approach from behind. The sweet mare carefully wraps a foreleg around his tummy and nuzzles into his cheek. “I love you sweetie,” she coos into his ear.

“Love you too, dam. Go on,” he waves a hoof to the table, “give the twins their breakfast before they get fussy. I’ve got this.”

“Bacon?” Lemon asks as Vines plants a kiss between his ears and moves to take her spot. “Like… griffon bacon?”

“It’s not from a pig like theirs is. Biologically it’s the same stuff, just made outta transmuted plant material. I made a bunch,” he explains, dropping four pieces of bread in the toaster, “so at least give it a try before you turn your nose up at the ‘gross stinky meat,’ okay?” He cocks an ear at the ceiling and asks, “Dad’s not up yet?”

“Oh he’s very much ‘up,’” Title giggles as she’s getting everypony’s drinks, “even if he’s not awake yet.”

“Gross,” he mildly comments with his snout scrunched.

“Title Search!” Vines admonishes as she sets the twins between her hind legs under the table. The pair latch on immediately, grateful for their meal.

“Well, whatever. Here’s the omelets that are ready, don’t bother waitin to dig in,” he calls back as he floats one in front of each mom and a bowl of scrambled eggs in front of Savvy, who’s giddily bouncing in place while flapping her tiny new wings in her highchair. The instruction proves to be completely unnecessary as the famished mares don’t hesitate to start shoveling away while he finishes the last two and puts another round of toast on.

The ladies all savor their food, watching as the floating colt encases the front of the oven in a barrier before opening it. A cloud of greasy smoke puffs out, then the colt pulls out a crystal and, in a flash, the smoke disappears. Two trays levitate out, then he casts Cleaning on the inside of the oven, then the bacon itself, whisking away loads of excess grease and leaving behind beautiful strips of salty goodness.

The meat is piled up on a couple plates and set in the middle of the table while he turns off the stovetops and sets the last couple omelets on the counter, then the toast and some butter on a couple plates in the middle of the table. Amethyst excuses herself to run up and wake the girls, returning a moment later, quietly mumbling, “They’re goin potty. They’ll be down in a minute.”

Aside from the colt, who has already wolfed down four strips, Title is the first to reach for the stack of fake pork. She gives it a sniff, shrugs, and bites it in half. Her eyes widen comically when the salty flavor explodes across her palate.

The girls come down and hop up by their brother just in time to witness her reaction. “Oh my Celestia!” she exclaims, grabbing a hooffull and scooping it onto her plate. “Where has this been all my life?!” Not hesitating for a moment, she tears off a tiny piece and gives it to her daughter, smiling when the sweet thing voices her approval with a loud “MMM!”

With the pink ladies’ stamps of approval, the fillies are quick to sit up and grab a couple pieces for themselves while Cure floats their omelets over and warms them up. The colt beams, dancing in his seat when their faces light up in delight.

Lemon sneaks one off of Title’s plate, earning herself a scowl, before grabbing a few more from the pile. “Not bad. Not bad at all,” she admits with a nod.

“It’s like sugar, honey, and salt all wrapped up in a crispy package,” Amethyst agrees. “Not so sure I’m diggin the chewy parts, colt. The extra cooked pieces are darn tasty though. Here, V, try one,” she says, leaning forward to grab a piece for the nursing mare.

“That’s the glaze you’re tasting, and the chewy parts are simulated fat. That’s where all the flavor comes from.” He turns to the pink mare and, waving at the bacon, asks, “See what you’ve been missin out on, ma? Now I’ll admit, bacon is possibly the pinnacle of carnivorous delights available in this world, but chicken and other forms of pork are no joke too.” Cure leans forward and looks around conspiratorially, “And that’s not even bringing up the most delectably taboo of offerings.”

“No!” Vines instantly cuts in, then covers her still bacon-filled muzzle. “You are not going to feed anypony pony, young colt!” she scolds, thrusting her other hoof in his direction.

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head no. “Duh! I told the princess the same thing… getting anypony hooked on anything me flavored sounds like a horrible idea. I’m just messin with ya anyhow, dam. I won’t make anything that’ll taste like an intelligent species. Except chicken.” Everypony gives the colt a curious look. “That’s unavoidable. Almost everything tastes like chicken,” he explains with a shrug. “In fact, I think there’s an intelligent species of parrots out there. Dependin on their diet they may taste just like it.”

“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one,” Title says, giving the other mares a questioning look.

Lemon and Vines both shrug but Amethyst speaks up. “Avians. I’ve never seen one either, but I’ve heard of ‘em too. Weird as all get out if ya ask me. Almost like a harpy, but with arms instead. What kinda bird creature ain’t even got wings?”

“Dunno, ma. The whole planet doesn’t make sense half the time. Just look at cows and minotaurs. How the hay do we have two intelligent bovine species, but one’s bipedal and the other is quadrupedal? There’s not like… a species of bipedal ponies out there I’ve never heard of, is there?”

“Not that I know of?” Amethyst answers with a questioning lilt, looking to the other moms for help.

“I’ve never heard of one,” Title adds, “even in myths or whatever. So no, I don’t think there’s bipedal versions of other creatures out there. As far as how that happened,” she shrugs, “who knows?”

Everypony finishes their meal in silence, leaving the sleeping stallion a few strips of bacon. Cure finally speaks up. “So… what’s on the agenda for the day?”

“Seriously, Cure?” Title asks in a huff.

“What? Y’all got any plans?”

“I have a job interview today,” Lemon proudly declares.

“A job interview?” he echoes.

Amethyst rolls her eyes and explains, “She finally got ‘round ta hirin somepony. She got a few applications while you were gone and told ‘em to come back in once the birthin season was over with.”

“Ah. Just one?” he asks, looking at the yellow mare.

“Nah,” she waves a hoof airily, “got two today and one tomorrow. I won’t be at the store long. I’m not actually opening up.”

“Nice… just a cashier?”

“Yep, for now. I’m hopin I can find somepony reliable enough to, eventually, run the store without me. That way I can start openin on Sunday, too… maybe even open another location in Baltimare like we discussed. If it goes well I should be able to work a few hours Saturday mornings and make enough to last until I go back in on Monday.”

“You should probably consider hiring two in case one doesn’t work out. You could go in for a few hours every morning, make everything you need for the day, and never have to set hoof in the storefront area at all.”

“That’s not a bad idea, but I don’t know if I can afford…” she drifts off at his flat stare and Title’s snorted laugh. “Fine, fine. I’ll think about it. What are you gettin into today?”

“Nothin too exciting. I’m meetin Dawn ‘n Solar at the range later this mornin before his shift starts. I wanted to try out the whole staff casting thing for a while and maybe test a spell idea or two. I was also thinkin about goin for a flight around Baltimare in Serpentus mode if you’re okay with it,” he adds, turning to his dam with pleading eyes. “You know… just kinda be out and be seen for an hour or two. Maybe I’ll swing by Canterton Park. I’ve been wantin to get some aquatic animal scans for like… ever.

Vines is obviously not thrilled with the suggestion. Canterton Park is just slightly north of Baltimare. Its defining feature is a small cove area mostly surrounded by rocks. It’s a popular swimming hole for ponies and griffs that want to get in the ocean, but is mostly visited for the long walking trails along the waterfront.

“I think it’s a great idea!” Lemon encouragingly replies. “Just keep your wits about ya, colt. I can’t imagine anypony, or anycreature, startin trouble with royalty, but…” she trails off waving a hoof.

“Right. Minotaurs on top of zebras and whatever mercenary has a death wish,” he agrees.

After a moment’s consideration, Vines finally puts forth her one stipulation. “Get an escort.”

The colt smirks and, in a voice that’s entirely too sultry from a young foal, replies, “Don’t you think I’m a little young for that, dam?” Her eyes go wide and the three moms all snort out laughs. “I know pony society is pretty liberal, but I never expected my own dam to insist I seek that kind of service. I’m not even sure where to start… do they run ads in the paper?”

The mare tilts her head back and sighs, letting all of her frustration float up to the ceiling. “Every meal…” she groans, refocusing back on her son. “You know exactly what I mean, Cure!”

“I will,” he assures her. “I’ll be out of range of the Sending crystals from the coast, so I’m fine havin somepony nearby keepin an eye out.”

“Speakin of the papers, colt,” Amethyst starts, folding the Baltimare Sun over and passing it over.

Rumors & Questions Abound Regarding Alicorn Stallion Physiology

Although several ponies have independently and, under promise of anonymity, reported that while they did not intend to, they noticed during his coronation procession that His Highness, Prince Serpentus, seemed to have anatomy uncharacteristic of colts and stallions of other pony tribes, or, in fact, any other known intelligent beings on the planet. According to consulted zoologists, the reported anomaly is characteristic of reptiles and snakes, instead.

Given the private nature of the reported difference, no significant attempt has been made to investigate the claims thus far, and several reputable newspapers have outright declined looking into the matter.

We, the premier news resource for the great city of Baltimare, while cognisant of the sensitive topic, have made inquiries with a number of parties including the parents of foals that attend the Junior Guard Martial Arts training program. Unsurprisingly, only a few have been willing to comment and they were quick to point out that Prince Serpentus wears a golden flight suit and the standard protective gear while attending class, thus making it impossible to confirm or disprove whether the rumors are true.

Their statements match all other ponies we have reached out to; His Highness is rarely seen publicly without an article of clothing making it nearly impossible to discern the truth. While the topic is exceedingly sensitive given his youth, this reporter can’t help but wonder why the young prince routinely wears clothing uncommon to colts of his estimated age.

Reports and pictures confirm that he was unclothed while working in the hospitals, but, as one would expect, no photographs were taken at an angle that would reveal the truth of the reported difference. Pictures during the coronation are also unclear due to the position in which Princess Celestia held him after his oaths.

New dams solicited for comment were overwhelmingly enraged upon being approached, citing how much they appreciate His Highness’s efforts in ensuring their healthy and, reportedly, pain-free experience. Reporters in the capital and Cloudsdale were forced to flee upon questioning more than one new dam, resulting in a policy change at several newspapers.

Though they refused to comment on the exact question, several anonymous medical professionals pointed out that the prince demonstrated the ability to regrow a wounded guardsmare’s eye during the coronation, and is credited with the creation of the trees reportedly capable of regrowing fully intact organs.

The question then is, if he can regrow a body part, is he also able to simply grow additional ones as well?

Disclaimer: Per the Baltimare Sun’s Editor the following important notice has been added:
Readers are reminded that specifically attempting to take a photograph of that part of a foal is a Class Two Felony and, as a result, the Baltimare Sun will NOT accept photographic evidence, and will forward any submitted pictures with all relevant information to the Guard for investigation.

“Heh… awesome,” he quietly chuckles.

At their curious looks, Cure passes the newspaper to his moms on his right. Lemon and Title barely finish reading the headline before they’re both cracking up, covering their mouths with fetlocks to keep from blasting eggs across the table. Lemon passes the paper across the table to Vines who reads the article with furrowed brows. Slowly, she looks up at her son and sternly demands an answer. “What did you do?!”

All three moms burst out laughing at the tone as Cure, struggling to maintain his composure, explains, “Well it started as a dare,” he begins. His dam’s attention instantly snaps to the pink mare who does her best to look innocent under the accusatory glare. “C’mon dam, it’s funny! I bet half the friggin country is reading articles like this all over the place wondering what in the hay the newspaper’s even talking about.”

“You will tell me what you did this instant, young colt!”

“I didn’t exactly do anything. I just maybe, kinda… ya know,” he rolls his hoof, “lived up to my snake theme, ya know?”

At the mare’s confused look Amethyst leans over to whisper, “He grew a second set ‘a stallion parts,” quietly enough that the girls can’t hear. “Snakes got two of ‘em.”

Ever so slowly, the mare’s right hoof comes up off the floor and drapes over her muzzle as she rubs her eyes with her fetlock. After several sighs and more slow headshakes then Cure bothers to count, she sits back and turns to him asking, “Whyyyy?” Not giving time to answer, she continues, “Why, during a literal once-in-a-lifetime event that the princess has waited a millennium for, would you do something so… so… crass and immature?!”

Both girls look up to their brother, wondering but not daring to ask what he did wrong.

He offers a weak shrug. “It seemed funny at the time?” The look on her face tells him that his answer is woefully insufficient, so he carries on. “Hay, it still is funny,” he insists, waving his right hoof at the three quietly laughing mares. “Think about it, dam. They can’t come right out and ask, and they certainly can’t try to take a picture!” Head tilted in thought, he amends, “I guess they could, but like the paper says, that’s super duper illegal.

“Especially given my status. I mean, imagine some reporter tryin ta sneak a camera under the boss lady’s,” he jerks his head back and flips his tail, aware that the girls are listening. The moms all burst out laughing anew at the suggestion that somepony would do something so bold.

“Ease up, V. He didn’t hurt nopony and, I’m guessin, there ain’t no proof of what he did.” She pauses to glance at the colt until he nods in confirmation before continuing, “The sun wasn’t up yet, and even with all’a the lights they had ya couldn’t hardly see nothin.”

“He is supposed to set an example!”

“He did!” Title insists in his defense. “Read that article again and pretend it’s not your son they’re talking about. Birth rates barely eke out death rates every year, but now we have a stallion… eventually… that’s the very example of a virile male!”

Cherry pokes Cure’s right side and asks, “What’s virile mean?”

“Healthy, but it’s an adult word, so don’t use it ‘till you are older,” he quickly answers, earning a grateful look from Lemon.

“Oh.”

“It’s not okay,” his dam remarks, picking up their argument. “Did you even consider what you did to the princess?”

“Of course I did. She’ll probably think it’s hilarious. Honestly, it’s the exact kind of sneaky funny thing she’d probably get a real kick out of. I bet she’s cracking up at the fact that all these papers,” he motions to the one in her hoof, “are just dying to know but don’t have a way of finding out. I guess a flight suit will be my standard outfit from now on.”

“You just wait,” Vines interrupts. “When you talk to her tonight I bet you her highness is going to be very upset with you. Maybe not!” she hedges, holding a hoof up forstall further argument, “but she’s waited a very long time for another alicorn to show up. You really should have thought about that when you were playing your silly prank. I expect better out of you, Cure.”

The admonishment, even if he doesn’t really agree, still stings. Looking back on it, she does have a good point. Even if it is hilarious, which it totally is, he probably should have at least made sure the princess was okay with it first. Then again, given the obligation he’ll likely eventually have to fulfill, the prospect of a variable size and shape wang may intrigue the ancient mare.

Cure has pondered many times about the princess’s sex life, mainly just out of academic curiosity. As far as he knows she’s never been married; certainly not publicly, at least. Just due to her long life she’s probably had sex more times and with more mates than any living creature, barring perhaps some professional studs, long lived dragons and, depending on what iteration exists in this world, Chrysalis or any other possible changeling royal.

The prospect of eventually, after waiting so long, having a male alicorn that can not only match her in size, but also will be capable of fulfilling nearly any imaginable fantasy she’s harbored over the millennia has to be something she’s at least considered.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait and see, but I really don’t think she’ll be upset. If anything it may give her ideas,” he finishes huskily.

“Oh my stars!” Vines moans, rubbing at her temples as the other moms all crack up again. “That’s disgusting! How could you even suggest the princess would be interested in that?!”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure where your mind went with that,” he calmly argues, “but I can guess based on your reaction, and that’s definitely not what I meant.” He pauses and furrows his brows. “I mean, I’ve already expressed my opinion on that particular subject and the only thing I can say is, ‘Not for me.’ What I mean is -”

He stops when his dam holds up a hoof. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t need to hear this at breakfast, Cure! Especially while I’m nursing your siblings!”

His muzzle clicks shut and he nods in acceptance. “Fair point, dam.”

Seeking to lighten the mood, Title decides to share her schedule. “I ain’t doin nothin. Today is a Savvy day.” She turns and noses at the filly’s cheek and coos at her. “Yes it is, isn’t it?” she asks to the girl’s burbling, flappy excitement. “Mmhmm! Dam’s gonna spend all day with her precious little filly!”

“We oughta take the foals out ta the park ‘fore we gotta get ready for the market,” Amethyst suggests. The idea seems to perk up Vines a little, so she continues, “We gotta get ponies used ta seein her,” she motions to the filly, “with them wings, ‘n I’m sure the girls would like ta see their little friends. Maybe we oughta Send a message ta Berry ‘n Spring ta see if they wanna bring their little ones too.”

“If you’re leaving soon I’ll come too,” Cure volunteers. “I won’t get to be around much next year, so every second I get to spend with the foals is precious. Besides, I could use a chill morning after the last three weeks. Last week, especially.”

“You didn’t talk about it much, sweetie. Was it bad?”

“Not… terrible, I guess, but it wasn’t like the capital where they’re kinda used to having an alicorn nearby. Everypony acted mostly normal, but a few were either overly reverent-like or, in some cases, askin for an autograph or whatever. One pegasus stallion had his wife ask if she could have a feather like the ones they sold in Canterlot. Dunno if they wanted to turn around and sell it or if they really wanted it as a memento for the foal when he grows up.”

“You didn’t…?”

“Nah. I gave ‘em a vague ‘alicorn stuff’ excuse and declined. Somepony made a great suggestion I’ll probably follow up on for next season. Next time I’m workin I’ll hoof out little Serpentus plushie toys with the date for the newborns I deliver. It’s a shame I didn’t think of it for my debut in Canterlot.”

“That is a neat idea,” his dam agrees.

“Yep. One bit of good news is that I finally caught up to that hippogriff I told you about. The one with the horn that didn’t work. He was down in Ferndale and when I mentioned him to Dr. Care she reached out to him. Horns don’t take much magic to fix, so I was able to take care of him last night before comin home.”

“I thought they had to do some kinda therapy or something afterwards,” Title inquires.

“He will. He’s shipping off to Manehattan to help there next, so once the season’s done he’ll need to go to Canterlot for all that. He lives in Cloudsdale, so they don’t really have any unicorn-specific services available there.”

“Ah. So…” she pauses, looking over the nearly empty plates, “should we go wake up our stallion or…?”

“Let’s wait a little bit before we go,” Vines answers. “I’m sure the twins will need to potty soon and he may want to come too.”

“That’s fine,” Title agrees. “I need to stop by the house anyhow, so I’ll head out early and meet you there. We finally got an offer yesterday, so I need to make sure nothing dumb happened while we’re gone.” She lets out a sigh, “Should probably check on our tenant while I’m at it.”

“Want me to come with?”

She regards the colt for a moment before nodding. “Sure, you can watch your sister while I do my thing.”

“I finally heard back from Violet Jewel,” is the first thing Cure calls in greeting as he approaches the pair. “The lady’s gettin around, apparently. She wrote me a letter saying she’s got herself a stallion, even, maker bless her heart. She sent a couple books this time. Neither are exactly magic books, per se,” he explains to the eager filly as they trade a nuzzle. “One is all about ethics and proper magic use, the other is about the law, which can basically be boiled down to ‘ask first’ as far as I can tell.”

“That sucks!” she grouses, stepping away as Cure turns to give her brother a hoofbump.

“Yeah, well… expect more of that when we go to school next year, babe. I gave them a quick once-over. I can just zap ‘em over to your house when I get back home if you want.”

She looks almost as disappointed as Cure was when he opened the package, though she does hesitantly nod. “I guess. It may help with the testing, at least. Are you… not doing anything today?” she curiously asks, wondering why he is disguised as a normal earth pony. He hasn’t even bothered changing his colors from the typical blue and green, though his mane does have some of the darker blue streaks he’s started wearing lately.

“Oh, I’m casting alright,” he smugly declares while withdrawing a staff from his withers.

“There’s no way that isn’t going to draw attention,” the red stallion insists. “An earth pony running around using magic will be almost as big of a story as a new alicorn.”

“Dunno what yer goin on about, dude.” He reaches back and taps his flank with the end of the staff. “I’m just usin my special talent, see? Besides, griffon mages use staves, how is an earth pony using one any kinda big deal? Even your sire said the same thing.”

Unlike the “dead” staves he left behind, the one Cure made for the range has functional nerves, muscles, fat stores for energy, and a cardiopulmonary system along with a fake wood shell to disguise the keratin interior. Though it still bears a resemblance, it’s slightly thicker than the staff Ferric made; a necessity given the internal configuration. The Cure Staff Mk. II is nearly a half hoof thick; slightly over one and a half times the diameter of the prototype and about the half again as long as the princess’s horn.

Solar pauses before starting another spell and gives the colt’s mark a considering look. After a moment’s thought he slowly bobs his head from side to side, making a thoughtful noise. “Ehh… maybe, I guess,” he eventually concedes.

“Maybe nothin. Nopony bats an eye at Ferric being ridiculously good with hammers. It’s the same thing.”

“Sort of. If you were good at using a staff for fighting, then sure… but casting spells with it? I dunno. If you want we could find out. We can go to the range over in Baltimare some day before I have to ship out so we can test the waters. They have a nice, indoor facility with actual courses and stuff.”

“Courses?”

“Daddy’s talked about it a couple times,” Dawn answers. “He says they have targets on ropes and pulleys that move and some you walk through where the targets spring up at you. Cities with more unicorns have even nicer ones where the workers use illusions.”

Solar is quick to point out, “Memberships to those aren’t cheap. I guess that’s not really an issue for you, but I’ve never been to one.”

“Would Fillydelphia have that? That’s where Marquis Merryland has his offices, so I would expect some nicer unicorn facilities.”

“Probably. If not there then definitely in Manehattan. They probably have several.” More excitedly, the older colt gushes, “Maelstrom’s combat trial rooms were enchanted by Archmage Fantastic hundreds of years ago. Supposedly they have Illusion Rooms so sophisticated you’d swear everything is real. They can simulate entire fields of battle in them, I hear!”

“No shit?! Dude, maybe I can swing by and check ‘em out sometime.”

“The Shining Suns get to go there for a field trip at the end of their second year,” Dawn says. At Cure’s completely confused look she rolls her eyes and explains, “CSGU’s dueling team. They’ve won the national championship like five of the last six hundred years.”

“Dueling team?”

Both unicorns pause and give the colt a bewildered stare. Solar slowly enunciates every word like he’s talking to a moron. “Dueling teams. Teams that duel. With magic.”

Cure scowls at the patronizing tone. “I know what a friggin dueling team is, ya smartass, I just didn’t know they exist!” He punctuates his sentence by letting loose a blast of conjured flame at an innocent dirt mound.

Unperturbed, the stallion continues, “They have them at every university and there’s an entire league of professional adult duelists. I guess I can see why you wouldn’t know much about them. They don’t exactly have a large earth pony following.”

“It’s like the rodeo,” Dawn explains. “It was all earth ponies, right?” Cure shrugs and bobs his head in the affirmative as she continues, “Earth ponies have rodeos and other more physical things, pegasi have races and aerial acrobatics and stuff. Unicorns have leagues of magic duelists.” Done with her explanation, she scrunches her snout adorably while focusing. A beam of hot plasma shoots from her horn a second later and burns a line across a nearby mound.

“Too much at once,” her brother chides as she pauses to catch her breath. “Take a couple minutes to recover, dummy.”

Cure leans over and gives the weary girl a nuzzle. “Scorching Ray?”

“Mmhmm. That’s as hot as I can do right now.”

“Pretty impressive,” he compliments, gently massaging under her ear with his snout. “It kinda sucks I’ll never be able to participate in those, but at least you’ll be able to.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning more into the colt. “I get it, but it still feels unfair.”

“Me being barred is a lot less unfair than somepony having to duel an alicorn. Especially if I’m in disguise so they wouldn’t even know.”

“True. I’m wondering if they’ll give you a hard time enrolling. Wouldn’t it be something if they denied your application ‘cause you’re an earth pony.”

“That’s actually one of the reasons I’m inclined to go this route. I told the princess that earth ponies tend to be on the receiving end of tribalism on occasion. How messed up would it be if the princess’s own school turned me away without a good reason?”

Solar’s face contorts in an ugly cringe. “Dude… somepony would definitely lose their job. That would be a Tartarus of a scandal if it went public.”

“The boss lady would probably be awfully pissed,” Cure agrees. “I’ll have to ask her to hold off on telling anypony that Prince Serpentus is enrolling, otherwise they’ll be on the lookout for an earth pony, I bet.”

“I dunno, dude. So far you’ve only shown off your healing, right?” Cure nods so he continues, “I’ve seen a few articles speculating how you’re disguising yourself. One interesting article was in the paper this morning, by the way. You should have seen dad trying to explain what it was about,” he says, sides shaking in mirth.

“Or dam!” Dawn guffaws. “She was blushing so hard she turned purple!” Both unicorns burst out in laughter, commiserating on their parents’ poor reactions.

“Anyhow,” the stallion eventually continues, “So long as you stick to what you’ve shown so far it’s possible nopony will connect a colt who can cast magic with a staff like a unicorn to your other identity.”

“Keep in mind I’ll be doing cosmetic stuff in the capital too, but you’re probably right. Assuming somepony doesn’t figure it out beforehoof, that is. I dunno. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess. Blatant subject change; I have a question about her spell. Why doesn’t anypony just use Light instead of something like Scorching Ray?”

Solar furrows his brow in thought and asks, “How would that even work?”

“When you’re using direct shaping the spell diagram has a wavelength setting, so you have full control instead of just changing color like the runic version,” Cure explains. “Set it low or high enough and crank up the power enough and it’ll wreck something pretty bad. I’m a little leery of going into ultraviolet, but infrared should be fine.”

At Solar’s doubtful look, Cure rolls his eyes and trots out into the target range area. He extrudes a thick branch of wood, then flattens one end and sharpens the other to a point. He drives the stake into the ground then returns to the firing line. “Watch.”

Using the same Light formula he has many times before, Cure adds in a directional emissions command and narrows the beam to an extremely tight setting. With a much more robust power siphon, Cure affixes the origin point to the end of his staff, points it downrange, and pours in the power.

Both unicorns stare aghast at the red beam that instantly bores a hole through the piece of wood and sears the backstop behind it. The hole is small, but the steam and hissing, popping sound coming from the surrounding wood proves the colt right; the spell is far, far too dangerous for normal use.

“That has to be illegal,” is Dawn’s immediate reaction.

“Definitely,” her brother agrees. “When would you ever need that spell, you psycho?!”

“Probably never, but you saw how much faster it is than normal spells.” He shrugs and waves at the smoldering piece of wood. “Nearly infinitely faster. That beam travels at the speed of light. It would be great for anti-air.”

“If you’re trying to kill somepony!” Solar hisses.

“Well duh. At close range it would. You also don’t have to use that much power or make the beam that tight. Here, I’ll just change the emitter setting. Instead of a quarter-hoof hole it’ll be a four-hoof beam at this range, so like…” he pauses to do the math, “less than a percent as much energy in any one spot.”

A second casting with the modified formula does far less damage, just as the colt suggested. He holds it for ten seconds before the target starts visibly steaming and hissing. “That would hurt but not kill somepony. Just don’t aim for their eyes or you’ll probably blind ‘em if they’re not wearin goggles.”

“That’s probably why nopony has ever used it! It’s too freaking dangerous, Cure! Don’t show that to anypony or… well, I don’t know if you would get in trouble, but don’t use it just in case.”

“I know, Solar,” he answers in a flat tone. “You don’t have to tell me not to shoot beams at anypony.” He pauses to think for a moment before adding, “I haven’t cast a single offensive spell at anypony that I can think of. I have used my talent, granted, but that doesn’t really count.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes. “You should get rid of that,” he nods at the target, “before somepony wonders what spell did that.”

With an accepting nod, the colt holds his staff up and blasts the remainder of the target away with a flurry of Firebolts.

Much to Cure’s disappointment, the Early Bird Beakery is not open on Sunday afternoons. He can’t fault the griff; everycreature needs some time off, and the downtown business area of Baltimare is a whole lot less busy on the weekend. That doesn’t mean he’s getting any fewer stares, but that’s more or less what he expected. Lazily flapping his wings, he lessens the air pressure above himself and floats up, then turns north to make his way to Base Carol.

Most of the ground-based ponies don’t even notice him until he’s far enough away to show up in their peripheral vision, so the vast majority of ponies that pause to gawk or, on occasion, wave, are pegasi. Flying anywhere in the city only takes a few minutes, so he’s soon coming in for a landing just a dozen or so meters away from the front gates.

He pauses a moment to peel off the hood of his flight suit, temporarily removing his crown in the process, and tucks the suddenly disconnected piece under a wing where it’s immediately absorbed. A shake of his head resets his mane, and, with a roll of his shoulders, he trots up to greet the guards on duty; the same two mares that were on duty three weeks prior, both standing at attention beside the gatehouse, ramrod straight and saluting.

“Howdy, corporal, private,” he calls out in greeting. A shallow nod has them both relax their stance as he approaches. “Sorry I don’t have any doughnuts this time, Early Bird’s was closed, unfortunately.”

“That’s okay, sir -” the unicorn begins before the private talks over her.

“Baltimare’s Best Bake Shop is open, sir!” she eagerly shouts, pointing a hoof down the street. “They have the best bearclaws in the world!”

“You can’t send his highness to fetch doughnuts!” the unicorn none-too-quietly whispers to the beige mare.

“I’m not!” she hisses back. More casually she explains, “I’m just sayin there’s a good bakery just down the street. Two blocks. Just a little down on the left. Can’t miss it,” she casually responds, facing her superior but stealing glances repeatedly in the colt’s direction.

“Really?” he asks, turning to look over his withers. “They’re open Sunday afternoons?” An exceedingly fast nod from one mare and a facehoof from the other are his answers. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time. I owe you one bearclaw and one grape-filled powdered doughnut, private.”

“Thank you, sir! That would be fantastic!”

“Corporal…”

“Bitterbark, sir!”

“You can just call me Posy, sir!” the private volunteers.

Schooling his expression to hide his amusement, Cure slowly nods to the pair. “Corporal Bitterbark, you wouldn’t happen to know how I would go about arranging a pegasus escort for a few hours, would you? I wouldn’t mind just taking a lazy flight around for a bit, but the princess’s orders are that I’m supposed to have somepony accompany me.”

“I’m honestly not sure, sir. Sgt. Hill would be able to set that up, I bet. You’ll find him in the command building, sir.”

“Great!” Cure turns to face Pvt. Posy with an apologetic expression. “I’m afraid I don’t have any papers with me today, private. Any chance I could talk you into looking the other way again?” The corporal stifles a snort at the private’s cringe. “I’m just teasing you, private. If everypony did their jobs as diligently as you do we’d all be better off,” he says as he makes his way past the mares. “Keep up the good work.”

That gets a smile and a small tail wag out of the mare, at least. With a jaunty wave of his wing he trots past the gate and makes his way into the command building, offering smiles and shallow nods to patrols as they pass by. Somepony must have been watching the gate because as soon as he approaches it, the front door opens and Lt. Quill steps out, gracing the colt with a quick salute.

Cure nods his head in greeting to the royal blue pegasus as he trots up the stairs into the main entrance. “Heya, LT. I was headed in to see Sgt. Hill about arranging an escort for the day. I figured you would be off on the weekend.”

“Every other,” he answers, waving the colt past him into a lobby area. “An escort for what?”

“Just to be seen, basically. I thought maybe I would head up the coast a little to the park, too. I haven’t had a chance to see any sea life since I got my talent and I’m curious to see what I can see, know what I mean?”

“Not… exactly. I’m aware, generally speaking, of your talent, but I don’t know all the nuances. If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll see about finding an available squad.”

“Sure thing.”

With a departing nod the lieutenant turns and trots past a security checkpoint down a hallway, pulls a card from his vest, holds it to a panel by a door, and trots inside. Cure is left in the somewhat awkward position of standing in front of an earth pony and unicorn guard unsure exactly what to do.

His attention is drawn to the north wall to the left of the hallway. Captain Stance’s photograph hangs to the left with a short bio and the date she took command of the city. She’s a local gal, it seems; born and raised right here in Baltimare, and has run Carol since Cpt. Stanza retired six years ago after twenty-five years of service. The light gray mare is in full military dress looking every bit as serious and determined as any other officer posing for their mugshot.

Small plaques for every other commander of the base fill the wall. Hundreds of years of stallions and mares giving their time and, in the case of a few, their lives for the ponies they’ve sworn to protect. An etching of the princess’s mark on their plate denotes the ones who died at their post.

Though some were surely due to health and ponykind’s acceptance of working until one literally keels over, the service end dates on some line up with periods where the griffons bit off more than they could chew. Baltimare is the closest major city to Griffonstone and, as a result, was the first stop for more than one invasion.

Seeing things like this always causes Cure to marvel at the fact that he lives in a country that has had one continuous existence for over nine hundred years. The reminder of time’s inevitable march forward also makes a pit form in his stomach knowing he’ll likely be around way longer than another nine hundred.

Even though he could, theoretically, keep everypony he cares about alive, would they even want to keep going on for that long? Over eighty soldiers’ plates decorate the wall, making the colt wonder which of his friends or family members will be the first one he will eventually immortalize with a stone marker.

His dour musings are interrupted when the lieutenant returns with three pegasi in tow. Something must have shown in his expression; Lt. Quill no more than opens his mouth before he pauses to look between the young alicorn and the memorial. “Something wrong, sir?” he gently questions.

“Nothing I know a solution to, lieutenant. Just pondering the future, I suppose.”

“That’s a heavy subject for such a young mind,” he observes.

“Reckon so, lieutenant,” he agrees. “So… what poor souls will be forced to endure my presence today?”

Shooting to his hooves and bouncing over to the ancient mare, Cure excitedly calls out “Princess!” as he leaps at her chest with wings and forelegs held wide for a ballistic hug.

Though unexpected, she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her right wing around the eager colt, careful to lay so she’s not smushing him against the ethereal surface of the astral realm. Giggling fondly, Celestia can’t help but comment, “A few foals greet me in such a way. I admit I had not expected you to do so.”

“I had a really good day today, boss!” he explains as he releases her and turns to snuggle between her forelegs. “I got up early, showed my family the wonders of meat, played at the park with Heavy and all’a our sisters, blew stuff up with Dawn ‘n Solar, went on over to Base Carol, picked up a couple of yer guards, then went around Baltimare as Serpentus doin lots of neat stuff!”

“Oh? Going out in public without your disguise already?”

“You bet! First we went up to Mason’s Cove in Canterton Park and I finally got to get in the ocean! I kept tellin yer guards not ta worry, but I think Cpl. Camber was about ta dive in after me. I think ‘cause I got wings she forgets I can use magic too.

“I finally hit her with Water Breathing and gave her membranes so she could keep an eye on me ‘n she was fine after that, even if the big chicken just stayed on the surface. She liked the built-in goggles a lot, though, so who knows? Maybe she’ll take up swimmin now.

“I’ll tell ya what, y’all don’t know how good ya got it with all this magic stuff. I’ve said it so many times I think my parents just completely tune me out anymore, but doin stuff manually compared to usin telekinesis flat out sucks, and don’t get me started on the crap that just ain’t possible. I teleport. Routinely! It’s old hat to you, I know, but instantaneous travel from A to B without the whole ‘Did I just commit suicide and clone myself?’ thing is redonkulous.

“And you’ve heard me rant about transmutation. I don’t think y’all grasp the utter bullshit that that spell really is. Red sent me a message … err… Ferric, I mean. Anyhow, she said she used that Transmutation crystal to weld two pieces ‘a metal tagether and I just about flipped my lid right on the spot! I bet Mr. Angle’s gonna damn near hug the poor girl ta death when she shows him what else we figured out. It never even occurred to me you can Transmute air just as easily as you can anything else!

“I’m goin window by window and wall by wall in our house usin Transmutation to upgrade our insulation. It’s a slow process but the results should be amazing. Here, look!”

The princess is completely floored by the absolute avalanche of words tumbling out of the colt. She can’t help but smile at the excited energy he’s exuding and has to fight back a giggle watching the normally reserved foal actually acting his physical age for a change.

Unaware of her musings, Cure projects an Illusion of a single pane of glass as he continues, “See look, you take a single pane of glass, though it needs to be a tad thicker than normal, then you slice it right in the middle, okay?” The Illusion shows a one meter square by a quarter hoof thick panel of glass, just as the colt explains, which then separates into two panes, now each approximately a centimeter and a quarter thick with a half centimeter gap between them.

“Next ya gotta seal them up on three sides so you got two panels with the usual air mix in between ‘em, right? Nitrogen, oxygen, whatever. Well those are fine ‘n dandy, but we want something lighter, so I transmuted all’a that into hydrogen. H2 just so we’re clear. Or helium would work too, I guess.

“That’s why ya gotta leave a side open and have thicker glass, cause the first experiment kinda popped the panels a tad. Hooray for subdermal armor, lemme tell ya! Oh, and obviously don’t do that near an open flame. I mean, you’d be fine but most ponies are slightly less fireproof, the pansies.

“So you go ahead and seal that last edge real fast. There’s probably a way to make the normal Shield spell seal air in but I didn’t bother, just move fast enough and it’s fine. Holding the pane so the opening is facing down should work since hydrogen gas is so light.

“So ya seal the last edge, then use transmute again to change all of that hydrogen into argon! Wham, bam, nearly perfectly insulated windows! I’ll tell ya what, boss lady, with the right glass you could have a bonfire on one side and an unmelted ice cream cone on the other of these puppies, I bet!

“Metal works almost as well but is easier ta work with ‘cause it won’t crack. I just got started on the first level of the house, but I’ll have the whole thing plated before winter sets in, even if I gotta reinforce the support beams and leave some gaps for my security system ta get through.

“That’s… quite amazing, actually, Cure,” she genuinely compliments. “I am unfamiliar with argon gas. I’m afraid my knowledge of alchemy is fairly limited.”

“That’s okay, boss. I didn’t figure you had enough time to take evenin courses at Canterlot U or whatever. Argon’s a great gas for a lot of things ‘cause it’s inert, colorless, odorless, and the only way it can hurt ya is if yer breathin in so much of it that yer body can’t get oxygen. It’s also a lot denser, so it falls down in air, or, more importantly for my purposes, creates a near-vacuum when hydrogen is Transmuted to it like so.”

“I… see. And the purpose of the vacuum?”

“There’s no better insulator. I think. It’s nearly empty space, so there’s no medium to transmit heat from one side to another. It’ll also stop sound since, again, no medium. Light doesn’t need one, so you’d hafta tint the window to block out light. I know that can be done with some ceramics in tiny, tiny quantities on the surface, but I don’t know the details. I do know that there’s somethin called transparent aluminum that’s like glass but way stronger, but I don’t know how to make it.”

“Amazing. You should really consider patenting this product,” she waves at the still hovering Illusion, “even if you intend to distribute it freely.”

“Good thinkin, boss. I’ll put together a packet and send it off ta my attorneys tomorrow. Maybe they can sort out some kinda licensing agreement or whatever, ‘cause I don’t have a whole lotta interest in becomin a door-to-door window salespony, lemme tell ya.”

He pauses, finally, after several minutes of jabbering on and wiggling happily against her chest and looks up at the underside of her chin. “So yeah, been doin a lot of neat stuff with magic and the trip to the cove was super productive. I swam and played with a few foals and a hippogriff family that was there, then went for a dive and got some really useful scans. You got a favorite color, boss? Pink like yer mane was, right?”

A moment of shock crosses her features before she reins it in. “I have to keep reminding myself how much you know that no foal would. Yes, I am partial to pink… why?”

“I’d rather surprise ya,” he demures. “Water really interferes with the range on horns, unfortunately, but I was still able to get a whole bunch of new scans. Bacteria, plankton, a bunch of fish, a few different jellyfish, crabs, snails, some small octopi, oysters, seahorses… you name it, boss.

“It took some hunting, but I also found one little guy sleepin in his burrow that I’m super excited about. It’s a kind of shrimp, but not the exact species I was hoping for. The ocean is a brutal, terrifying place, lemme tell ya. Relatively speaking, this little bastard hits harder than an earth pony can buck, and that’s without magic!”

“And you were searching this out because…?”

“Curiosity more than anything. I’d heard of the things before, but I’ve never seen one. It’s not really that useful for anything; the limbs that make it possible are insanely specialized, so while they’re great at that one thing, that’s really the only thing they’re good for. They are supposedly pretty tasty with some drawn butter, so there is that.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“So how’s yer week been, boss? Aside from today, mine’s been pretty busy with the hospital. Oh, and I finally caught up to Nurse Sonic. You may bump into him after the season’s over; he’s gonna need therapy and some lessons for his horn and he can’t really get that in Cloudsdale.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for him. He does tend to stand out in a crowd. My week has been somewhat more eventful than anticipated, I’ll admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm. For some reason the press corps have been absolutely bombarded with questions and requests for comment on a subject that I can honestly say I never expected.”

“Ah, I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“That damn Quickhorn prick!” he growls. “I bet he’s been spoutin off to everypony that’ll listen!” He throws his hoof in the air in mock outrage, shouting, “Slander! Lies and Slander! If he wasn’t gettin tossed on a boat any day now I’d sue his ass clear back to Minos!”

“Cure…”

“Yeah, boss?”

“That is not the topic everypony has been asking about.”

Instantly calming, Cure rubs his eyes with a fetlock and lets out a muzzle-splitting yawn ending with a full body shudder. “Well look at the time. It’s been real, boss. See ya next week!” he calls, suddenly popping out of existence.

The princess stares at the spot for a long second, barely holding back the deluge of un-princessly words that fight to tear themselves free. “I’m going to -”

“I’m joking!” he yells the very instant he appears trotting out of the surrounding mists. “Whew… got a tad warmer in here all’a the sudden,” he comments, looking around as if searching for the heat’s source.

“Cure Wave.” Despite the heat of the surrounding area, the princess’s tone is cold enough to freeze a yak solid.

“Yes, your most beautiful, kind, and understanding majesty?”

“Why are my staff getting repeated inquiries about Prince Serpentus’ genitalia?”

Cure scoffs, laying just out of reach of the princess and shrugs his wings. “I dunno, boss. I guess everypony just wants a piece of me. I mean, I know I’m adorable as all get out, but sexy enough to just flat out ask about the D?” he ponders aloud, sitting up to look himself over. “Eh, I guess I can kinda see it, but you should probably put any adult ponies askin about that on some kinda watchlist. That’s kinda sick, boss.”

The princess lets out a long suffering sigh and rubs her temple with her left hoof. “Cure.”

“Mmhmm?”

“Did you do something during the parade?”

Cure briefly considers continuing the playful banter, but he easily picks up the vibe that it wouldn’t be funny at this point.

“I didn’t do anything unusual during the parade,” he flatly answers. She cocks a brow in question at the emphasized word. “I did do something before and after the parade, as well as prior to trying on my abaya.”

Like a teacher asking a pupil why they put gum in somepony’s mane, she questions the colt, “Why?”

With all the stern seriousness a small colt can convey, Cure meets the princess’s eyes, and taps a hoof on the ethereal surface with each word as he answers, “Because it was hil. ar. i. ous.” then punctuates the sentence with a firm nod.

The look of disbelief on her face conveys that she simply does not grasp the genius of the stunt. “Think about it like this boss. Right now, all across the nation and, in all likelihood, in the ruling echelons of our friends and allies, there are a plethora of questions niggling at the back of every creature’s mind. ‘What could somepony do if they had two peeners? How does that even work?

“Are we talking simultaneous action or is it one after the other?” he asks, first thrusting both forelegs out in a double punch, then alternating them in a one-two combo. “If a pony has two johnsons is the total mass of a single one split in half or are we talkin two full-fledged schlongs? Can he smush ‘em together to make some kinda superdong?

“Has he ever somehow, either accidentally while playing with them or maybe on purpose or out of curiosity, tied them together in a knot? Can he thrust his hips just right to make them clap? If so, would that be an appropriate way to show one’s appreciation for a stunning performance? If there’s a mare with two vaginas does that mean they’re legally required to hook up once just to tell the world how awesome it was? Is it considered masturbation if they rub against each other?”

The princess has hidden her face with a wing by now, but the crimson glow has crept clear down her chest; not that it was missed by the colt either way.

He continues on regardless, “Are we sure there were only two? What about his balls; does he have four of those? Yes, bee-tee-dubs. Is one set for fillies and the other for colts? Does each jimmy have its own set or are they all linked up together? If separate, are we talking a front/back divide or a left and right one? Can he divert all the flow however he wants or is it purely automatic? How many mares can he take care of in a single season? Are they uncomfortable to sit on? Just how snake-like is he, really?

“The list goes on, boss. The beauty of it all is that they can’t even ask! I mean, sure they could, but seriously, can you imagine, ‘Hey Princess Celestia!” he yells in a nasally sounding stallion’s voice, “What’s the story with Prince Serpentus’ junk?’ That would kinda imply you flipped me over and checked out the goods, wouldn’t it?”

Despite herself, Celestia, still hidden behind her wing, shakes even harder with not-so-quiet laughter.

“They sure as hay can’t ask me or they might be risking gettin lynched right on the spot. Maybe. I suppose it’s possible there’s enough curious parties out there they may hold off long enough to hear if I give an answer.” He quickly adopts his Serpentus voice and animatedly responds in mock outrage, “What kind of sicko are you asking a foal about their private parts?! I hope you’re not a parent, you degenerate! Somepony investigate this fella over here! Seriously!”

Even though her wing is still hiding her face, Cure can see the tip of her horn moving enough to know she’s shaking her head back and forth in dismay. “I can’t even deal with you right now,” she comments, barely getting it out through breathy laughs.

“See? It’s hilarious! All I have to do is wear my flight suit when I’m out in public, which I almost always do anyhow since… ya know… flyin is awesome. The real fun will be when I take the suit off and lay juuuuust right so nopony can see anything. That won’t work when I’m taller than everypony, but by then I figure the game’ll be up anyhow. I’ll probably just move everything internal and slap a strip of differently colored fur there that says ‘Stop staring, pervert’ or ‘This space for rent.’”

Still shaking slightly, she retracts her wing to find Cure sitting there; each ear morphed into a caricature of a weiner dangling off the sides of his head. He meets her eyes and, in a completely flat tone, simply says “Penis.”

The dam shatters. Celestia guffaws and breaks down into full-on howling laughter, burying her face under her forelegs for several minutes. When she finally stops and wipes her eyes she finds the colt, thankfully, back to his normal appearance. “I rest my case,” he haughtily declares.

“You… are terrible.”

“I’m awesome!” he argues with a confident smirk. “Seriously, I am glad to see you’re not some uptight ninny. I didn’t expect you to be, but ya never know, ya know?”

“I grew up in a time that few of my little ponies could even conceive,” she agrees. “Well…” she idly says with a sigh. “I suppose that puts your encounter with Ambassador Ahmad’s daughters in a new light.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. You remember what the dude said when he presented the elixirs, right?”

“Ahh… something about not needing them,” she recalls, nodding absently. “At the time I had presumed he meant because of your earth pony heritage or your domain. That does make more sense. Regardless, you do realize you will likely have to deal with these rumors for, possibly, a very, very long time?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll probably keep up the act for a few years and, once I’m an adult, just go out like normal without my suit on and react confused whenever anypony asks where my other wiener is. I’ll just look around and be like, ‘I dunno! The thing’s like a freakin labrador, always runnin away on me! It’ll turn up eventually when it gets hungry, then probably sleep for three days straight.’”

The princess takes a deep breath, shaking her head in disbelief again as she fights to hide her amusement. “I will instruct the PR ponies to continue telling everypony that the matter of your… anatomy is not a subject they will comment on. I imagine the intrigue will soon wane, but do me a favor?”

“Sure thing.”

“At least make me aware of any such plans in the future? You do have the right to do what you please with your own body, of course, but at least with some warning I could know to expect the deluge of questions my staff will soon receive.”

“No problem, boss. I’ll probably not be doing anything else anyhow. That was just an opportunity I couldn’t pass up ‘cause of the whole snake thing. You know they have two wieners also, right?”

“I hadn’t known before, but it has become common knowledge now.”

“Already spreadin education. Damn I’m good. Hey speaking of ballsacks, any word on the whole fillies only thing?”

She huffs a laugh at the unusual, yet situationally valid segue. “In a way. Several stallions have come forward for testing. Thus far no discernable pattern has been found, but early indicators show that there may be a higher percentage of affected in the military. Potential sources are being investigated, but it is too early to know if that is accurate or if it is simply the result of a higher percentage of guards volunteering for testing.”

“I know what I can do to help the testing, at least. I could use a similar binding agent that I did to inhibit or kill female sperm, but instead have it change colors like a litmus test. Have it react to colt sperm by turning blue and filly by turning red. That could be distributed en masse so stallions could test themselves and see if they need to get in to see their doctor.”

The princess positively lights up at the suggestion, scooting closer as she exclaims, “That… is brilliant, Cure! If easily obtainable, everypony could test their mate prior to the season start! Family Planning could test and grade sires during the screening process!”

“Yep, and since it’s not a medicine or anything there’s no real testing required once the accuracy of the indicator solution is verified. I’ll whip something up, send a message to Dr. Care, and stop by the hospital tomorrow. Expect a shipment of them to be on their way to Canterlot by midweek, boss. I recommend that somepony start putting together a little kit with a measuring cup and instructions so we can start shipping these out ASAP.”

“Phenomenal!” she cheers, scooping the colt into a hug and smothering him in nuzzles. “I can’t tell you how exciting this all is! I don’t even know how to begin showing my gratitude for everything you’re doing, Cure.”

“Snuggles are a good start,” he insists, nuzzling against her warm chest.

“A price I’m happy to pay,” she agrees. “While we’re on the topic, I do have news regarding your plants.”

“Oh?”

“The first round of pups from the lab rats are doing well and should reach maturity soon. By the middle of July they will be old enough to start breeding them to determine if there have been any unexpected side-effects from your Colt Trees.

“Director Storm, working off the expectation that all will be well, is already seeking a hooffull of volunteers. Unless some unforeseen complication arises in the next couple months the first round of foals could be conceived with your medicine as early as this fall instead of next spring.”

“Awesome! Any luck on the viral plants?”

“I understand those tests are also going well, but again, they were delayed due to the priority shift to the Colt Trees and because of the births. It is unlikely there will be much progress on those until early August, so I am unsure if they will be approved prior to the fall flu season. They may see use similar to your Origin Cell and Blood Trees; if somepony is suffering badly from the flu a doctor may request an exception be made.”

“They’ll work. I know they will.”

With an agreeing nod she says, “I’m certain they will as well, but I cannot fault them for being thorough. The biological creations you’ve developed are so different from everything else they’ve tested that extra caution is understandable.”

“Right… true. I would normally be really leery of trying some medicine a foal came up with too, so that’s fair.”

“Exactly. The foals you revived continue doing well. They each have had a follow-up visit and while they have slightly more magic, no adverse effects have been observed.” He opens his mouth, but before he speaks up she adds, “I am aware you had one in Baltimare as well. She will receive the same treatment, but is also a healthy, happy filly from all reports.”

“More good news!” he exclaims with no small amount of relief. “Any movement on the whole horn-ifying or winging ponies discussion? I’m curious how the chancellery took that.”

“Their response was less than enthusiastic,” she admits. “The suggestion that pegasi or earth ponies could study magic was met with a fair amount of derision. If you hadn’t told me of your experiences as an earth pony, I would have merely chalked it up to skepticism. Now, I wonder.”

“Even the ones that aren’t unicorns were opposed?”

“Shockingly, yes. Chancellor Greenbriar scoffed at the notion of her fellow earth ponies even wanting to learn magic, or fly, for that matter. Doubt was expressed that unicorns, if willing to try, would have sufficient strength and endurance to get and stay in the air.”

“The latter may be a concern, I’ll grant. I will say that while Savvy hasn’t flown yet, she flaps around real good, even if it took her a couple days to start movin her wings. She won’t be able to fly for a few more weeks, but she seems pretty happy so far. You shoulda seen my mom with her at the park. She swears she’s sayin ‘dam’ but we’re all teasin her saying we distinctly heard ‘dad’ instead.”

“Cute. You shouldn’t tease your mom, Cure.”

The colt scoffs, flicking a wing at the suggestion. “You have her to thank for the whole wiener thing. She’s the one that dared me to do it.”

Celestia’s snout scrunches in response. “Tease away.”

“Thought so.”

“Chancellor Stormsurge recognized the military value, at least, but also expressed doubts about investing in training earth pony and pegasi guards magic as well. I believe he would prefer to take advantage of enchanted crystals, though others were quick to point out the cost and difficulty in supplying sufficient quantities to matter.”

“A valid concern,” he agrees. “That reminds me… a few months ago Sgt. Haze and I were talkin about super high tier crystals for coastal defense or whatever.”

Celestia nods at the suggestion. “We are working with our suppliers to find suitable crystals. The chancellor has appointed a team of military advisors to determine what spells would be most impactful and what deployment methods should be used under different circumstances. Within a few years’ time any would-be invader will find themselves in for quite a surprise.”

“Only for a moment. If it would help, I can program those spells when the time comes. I have little doubt you can as well, but I’m working under the assumption they’re not ones you have cast frequently, if at all. With my memory and muscle control I should be able to cast them perfectly every time.”

“And you certainly aren’t eager to get a glimpse at high tiered spells like that,” she knowingly suggests.

With a helpless shrug he admits, “Of course I am. Presumably I’ll need to know crap like that sooner or later anyhow.”

“I am only teasing, Cure. Are you sure you will be okay knowing you had a hoof in, potentially, the death of hundreds or thousands of intelligent creatures?”

“Please,” he scoffs, “I’d be about as responsible as the blacksmith that crafts a sword. Besides, as long as those things are only used for what they’re intended I won’t lose a wink of sleep knowing a bunch of invading or raiding assholes got what’s comin to ‘em. Ya reap what you sow, boss.”

“Very well. I will let you know when the time comes.”

“Good. Anything else goin on I need to know about?”

After a thoughtful pause the princess slowly nods her head. “I had considered not making you aware, but… I feel it is more important that you learn from this. There was an assault reported the evening after you departed.”

Cure’s mind races to think of anypony that could have been hurt that he would somehow “learn” from, but comes up empty.

“The name isn’t one you will recognize, but you may remember the pony,” she says, projecting an Illusion of an earth pony stallion.

It takes a moment before it clicks. “He was one of the protesters, wasn’t he?”

“He was,” she confirms. “Sparky Flint was terminated from his job the Friday after those pictures were published. Since there wasn’t a valid, documented reason for the dismissal he was granted expedited unemployment benefits, but his job hunt has been less than successful. The leading theory is that somepony recognized him and decided to dispense their own form of justice. It was a unicorn, apparently, as he was Stunned, then kicked a few times while unconscious. The bruising matches the size and shape of a unicorn stallion as well.”

“Freaking coward!” the colt venomously spits. “If ya got a problem with somepony at least have the cojones ta say it to their face!”

“It was a rather underhoofed attack, but criminals are not typically the most brave of souls. We cannot know for sure that the perpetrator was acting due to the slight against you, but nearly every single other protester from that day has experienced repercussions in some way or another as well.”

“Great!” he huffs. “This is exactly the kind of shit I didn’t want to have to put up with when I was debating accepting the, admittedly awesome, crown, ya know?”

“I am aware.”

The colt sighs and sags under the feeling of disappointment and, to a small degree, responsibility over what has happened. “So what now?”

“The investigation will continue, but with no witnesses…” she trails off with a shrug. “Magical signatures don’t cling to other ponies long, so by the time investigators arrived at the hospital it had fully dispersed.

“Don’t take this too hard, Cure, but always keep in mind that your actions will have consequences far beyond what you anticipate. Some, like your prank, may be amusing. Others… not so much.”

“Alright. On one hoof, the prick probably needed a good kick in the tail. Myself aside, you’ve done too much for ponies to show that kinda disrespect. A part of me is perfectly fine with him gettin a whoopin. Freedom of speech doesn’t mean freedom from repercussions when you exercise it. On the other… I have a pretty good idea of what happens when unpopular opinions are suppressed, even if not by the government.”

“Not the reaction I expected,” she confesses.

He huffs and rolls his eyes, remarking, “I bet you expected me to feel bad for the moron like most of your little ponies would. Well, I do, in a way. He shoulda at least got ta see his attacker. I’m fine and happy with an ambush. Hell, it’s my go-to tactic, but that’s for enemies, not ponies I disagree with. I’m more worried about any foals these morons have suffering as a result of their parents’ stupidity.”

“A reasonable concern.”

“Well… I assume you have ponies keepin tabs on stuff?”

“To a degree. I suspect your estimation of Equestria’s clandestine operations is a great deal more extensive than they are in reality.”

“That’s a topic for another day,” he comments. “Can you at least tell me if it gets out of hoof? If push comes to shove I’ll pick up a couple extra patients and set up a ‘I’m sorry your parents are idiots’ fund so the foals aren’t too adversely affected.”

“I don’t believe it will come to that. These things tend to be forgotten shortly enough. It is also entirely possible that his assault had nothing to do with you at all, but I felt you should at least be made aware. Either way, that is very kind of you to offer.”

“Yeah, kindness is my middle name,” he snarks. The phrase gets an uncomprehending look from the mare before it dawns on him that middle names, as far as he knows, are not a thing on the planet. “You know how griffons have a given name and a surname typically inherited from the sire?” She nods. “Same thing, except at some point, and don’t ask me when or why, an almost second given name started getting added in.”

“Ah.”

“I’ve not shared that name with anypony. Never wanted to say it out loud. In a lot of myths and legends having somecreature’s full name is almost like… I dunno, it gives power over them, sometimes a lot depending on the legend.”

“I’ve not heard of such a thing before. No culture that comes to mind makes an attempt to obscure one’s name. The only way I could envision that working would be if one were trying to form some kind of link to a target where no other can be created. Names are not unique, generally, so I believe a stronger connection would be required for any real chance of success. Perhaps in a culture with longer, more distinct names, but… I have my doubts that a name alone would be useful even then.”

“That’s kind of a relief. Hey, speakin of magic stuff, I have a bit of a proposal for ya.”

“I’m listening…”

“First off, have you talked to anypony about Prince Serpentus enrolling at CSGU like… at all? I told my lawyers and I remember bringing it up in front of Prince Blueblood and his family, but I don’t think anypony else knows… maybe I said something to Lt. Spear when we were hangin out. Oh! And Director Storm, Dr. Crystal, and some of the Baltimare Hospital board know, but I don’t expect any of them to spread that around.”

“I have not yet told anypony. I’m sure many assume you will attend either next year or when you’re old enough, but no official statement has been made saying you will, especially not with a definite time frame. Am I to assume you wish to remain anonymous for Dawn Glow’s sake?”

He bobs his head from side to side as he explains, “Kinda, but also I was thinkin that I’d like to attend as myself, minus the wings and horn. Cure Wave is an earth pony with a staff cutie mark, so him being able to use a staff to cast spells isn’t completely impossible, right?”

“That’s brilliant, Cure! That should work quite well. Oh and when you eventually reveal your true identity that you were able to enroll only using a staff will be an inspiration for other earth ponies too! What a wonderful idea!”

“Credit goes to Sapphire Sprint on that one, boss. Here’s the catch, though. I want to go through the testing and enrollment process exactly the same as any other student.”

She easily agrees, pointing out, “You would have had to regardless.”

“Oh. Well, we’ve talked as if it’s a sure thing so many times, I just kinda assumed you were simply placing me there one way or another.”

Celestia scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Oh yes, because your abilities and aptitude are such that you wouldn’t be capable of passing. By the time next September rolls around it would not surprise me to find your magic capacity on par with an average adult civilian. As for casting proficiency, you are already far beyond the average adult. The only area you need practice with is dexterity, and you are not far behind a unicorn of your own age. I have no doubt you will pass any test put before you, Cure.”

“Geez, boss. Yer gonna make me blush over here,” he teases. “Still, do me a favor and don’t tell anypony involved that I’m enrolling. I don’t want anypony being biased when they’re evaluating applicants, alright?”

“Very well. I will not say anything to anypony.”

“Cool. Any updates on the Pure Dew trials?”

Cure is taken aback slightly when the princess’s features gain a hard edge. Her snout wrinkles, wings ruffle, and tail flicks hard to the side in annoyance. “Lady Clean Wool is scheduled to appear before me this coming Friday for sentencing. Her conspirators have already been shipped off to Salt Lick Penitentiary. She will likely join them in the next ten to twelve days, then spend the remainder of her years behind bars.”

“A life sentence?”

“She is in her late forties. Her sentence will be twenty-five years. If she does live that long she will have little time left to enjoy afterwards. You will likely hear news regarding the revocation of her title and imprisonment soon as well. It happens so infrequently that I expect it to be in a number of papers.”

“Huh. I kinda expected her sentence to be more along the lines of what the minotaurs got. Why were theirs so light, relatively speaking? I mean… eight years is still a long time in prison, but…”

“The minotaurs also face banishment, a prospect that seems less harsh given Ambassador Quickhorn’s behavior. For most, banishment is little better than a death sentence, but if relations with Equestria deteriorate then they may end up getting off somewhat easier than intended.

“Then again, they did fail their task. Not only that, but somepony wrote ‘Fool’ all over the leader, adding further to their humiliation. It is possible they will be shunned upon their return, but only time will tell.”

“Guess so boss. I think that’s the last thing I wanted to check on. You got anything for me?”

“No, but I do have an update regarding a few things we discussed weeks ago. First off, aerial scouts have completed several sorties near our old castle grounds. Thus far there is no indication that anything is amiss. The next step will be to have two squads investigate the cave directly, which is scheduled to occur on the first.”

Cure nods in understanding. “Are you planning on having them grab some plant samples on the off chance they stumble upon plunderseeds?”

“Only if they can do so safely. If an active threat is found then we will reevaluate our options. The other update I have is regarding Ponehenge. As I had expected, so much time has passed that there are no obvious signs of a fight remaining. The site has been scanned on occasion before and the results from the latest survey reveal nothing unusual.

“The rocks and surrounding area have always carried a latent magical current which is still present now. Without entering the site and performing more detailed scans there is likely little else to be discovered.”

“... and that’s happening now?”

“No. I have followed your advice on the matter. As much as I long to see my mentor, if he has been banished for nearly two millennia then there is little to lose and much to gain by waiting until you are more capable. While I have faith in my troops, there is no harm in waiting until you are ready to stand beside me. It will also allow time to train them and prepare other contingencies.”

“Be honest with me, boss. How do you think this Shadow really stacks up against you? Are we in trouble if some moron accidentally lets this thing loose?”

“No. I expect it would fare very poorly, especially given my domain. Luna was an alicorn with nearly as much power and experience as I at the time, and she knew to launch her attack at night. While our fight was destructive, she was certainly not capable of defeating me. I…” she drifts off for a moment and sighs, hanging her head in sorrow. “I had hoped that upon her death she would come back to me… without the Nightmare. When that did not happen after several attempts I had only one option available to truly stop her.

“If your intel is correct and Stygian is indeed the Shadow then I would expect killing him to be a simple matter, but I am unsure what that will do to the creature possessing him. My hope is that you, along with my paladins, can contain him long enough that I can either banish it back from whence it came or burn the Shadow out of him. That may kill him in the process, but with you there…”

“I may be able to keep him alive.”

“Exactly. If not, I will see the threat neutralized one way or another.”

“Damn, Celly don’t play,” he lightly comments, bobbing his head in appreciation.

“Ugh… well over a millennium later and that nickname still frazzles my coat. Please don’t call me that,” she nearly begs. “That was his name for me, and I hated it.”

“Sorry, boss. Won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” she emphatically replies.

The two ponder their conversation thus far, trying to think of anything new to add.

“Your statue is coming along.”

“What?!”

“The one Director Storm told you about. She is quite excited about it.”

“She was serious?”

“Of course she was serious, Cure! They’re planning to put it in the plaza directly in front of the main entrance. The Canterlot University Medical Center’s board of trustees has commissioned one as well.”

“Great. I wonder how many wieners they’ll have.”

A barked laugh escapes the mare before she covers her muzzle with a hoof. “It had better not have any!”

“The photographer didn’t capture that angle, so unless the sculptor takes some creative license then I would assume it will.”

“Maker help me, Cure. Over the centuries I have seen and heard any number of things I, at some point, thought I never would. I can honestly say that some of what comes out of your mouth is so far outside of expectations that I find myself completely at a loss as to how to respond to them.”

“You’re welcome.”

A moment of silence settles between the pair as the elder scowls weakly at the smug foal.

“That was not some roundabout way of saying thanks.”

“Sure felt like gratitude to me.”

Another sigh escapes the ancient alicorn.

Sensing that there’s no further topics to discuss, Cure stands, rears up, and leans heavily against her chest, wrapping her neck in a wing hug. “G’night, Celestia. I’ll see ya next week.”

Carefully wrapping a foreleg around him, she squeezes him back. “Good night, Cure Wave. Until then.”

Author's Note

Lots of updates this chapter. I think I saw a few comments asking if Cure ever did catch up with Sonic when he was in Canterlot. He did not. The events of the morning he intended to speak to the hippogriff kinda threw off his whole game for the rest of the day. That wasn't an oversight on my part, nor is a follow-up on a few other things that are still hanging out there. There probably is something I've let slip out of my notes, but such is life. Things do tend to slip through the cracks.

Oh well. Happy reading, folks. I hope you enjoyed it and, as always, thanks for reading / rating / commenting!