Friday, July 31st, 909 AB (5 days later)

With the wind brushing against his coat, Cure dips his right wing down and flares the feathers low to pull himself to the right. He’d left for work a little early today and, now in his Prince Serpentus guise, is in the mood for a brief few moments of freedom before he punches in. Still a ways northwest of the hospital, he veers to the south over the zoo and climbs a few hundred meters to keep well clear of civilian traffic; a must given that he is flying while cloaked in an Invisibility spell.

Coasting over a shopping area, he glances down and sees a familiar unicorn unlock the door on his business before stepping inside. With the surplus of crystals he’d built up he hasn’t had a need to rush off to Early’s Odds ‘n Ends in quite a while. He isn’t overly worried about the stallion’s bottom line; Dawn has more than stepped up to the plate in that department. With her burgeoning reputation as a Perfect Caster, a feat that few unicorns can match, her own “Crystal Empire” is doing quite well.

The other foals aren’t suffering financially either, he reflects. Flight suit sales are somewhat low, kept that way intentionally so as to not run anypony out of business that has to actually pay suppliers, shipping, staff, and other expenses. Despite that, both pegasi have made enough that they’ll have the pleasure of hitting the highest income tax rate come the end of September.

Heavy Lift, Delta Coast, Rising Pitch, and Sapphire Sprint aren’t exactly going hungry either. While the plush toys aren’t a big-ticket item like flight suits, the sales volume is quite a bit higher. Cure is also far less reticent about making those en masse as, even if they tried, their market saturation would never be sufficient enough to do any lasting harm to toy manufacturers in the Baltimare region.

Ferric is the only one that isn’t directly directly financially benefiting from Cure, at least on an ongoing basis. On the other hoof, she is gaining, possibly, more than anypony in the long run. Since he “loaned” her the mid-high Transmutation crystal and showed her how to recharge it, not only has she made a tidy profit turning useless scrap into valuable high-grade steel, she’s also been able to experiment with metals she likely wouldn’t have known existed otherwise.

As happy as he is with the overall situation, Cure still can’t completely ignore one issue that’s bugging him more than he cares to admit. His friends dismissed it as irrelevant and his parents argued the same, but no matter how much he knows it shouldn’t bother him, there’s no argument against one simple fact.

The unicorn and pegasi are getting rich while the earth ponies are getting by.

He wonders if somehow that’s an inevitability in this world. It certainly wasn’t intentional on his part. It just happened to work out that way. Despite that, he can’t help but draw comparisons between his herd of foals and the future bearers.

Magic became the immortal ruler of the entire nation.

Generosity owned boutiques in several major metropolitan markets.

Loyalty, as best Ed recalls, became a Wonderbolt and a national icon.

Kindness is somewhat the exception, but she seemed perfectly happy living in a hut with nopony around, so she probably could be a millionaire and it wouldn’t matter to her.

The earth ponies, though? One ran a farm that struggled financially, somehow, and the other worked at a bakery. She doesn’t even own the bakery; she’s unskilled labor working a low paying job. There’s a possibility she makes good money off of her party planning business; Starlight does well enough, but he is unaware of Laughter ever requesting compensation for her services.

Cure acknowledges that each one of them got to live out their “dream” in a way, but the pattern repeating itself irks him more than everypony seems to think it should. The truly frustrating part is that he is directly responsible for the way it played out and he didn’t even realize it until just recently. His only comfort is the knowledge that not only is ensuring his friends’ financial success not his responsibility, they’re all doing far better than they would have otherwise.

Despite that, for all that he likes to think his human perspective makes him immune to many of the shortcomings he sees in ponykind, he can’t deny that the realization of the situation slipped by him for weeks. As much as he would like to help, he is aware that it is not his responsibility to ensure that everypony ends up rich.

Pushing the idle thoughts of his potential future mates aside, Cure relishes the weightless freedom of the sky as he casts his gaze over the downtown area. A steady flow of ponies come and go from several buildings; banks, government offices, various businesses, and so forth. He catches sight of dozens of mail carriers as they depart from the main post office. Most are pegasi, but eight earth ponies and a half dozen unicorns all head out too.

He can only assume the ground-based ponies are taking care of the more local areas. The pegasi all shoot off in different directions in the sky. The earth ponies take off in teams of two; one pulling a cart full of parcels and the other running individual items up to doors or inside businesses. The unicorns are laden with larger than usual saddlebags with individual, presorted slots similar to the wall file organizers humans use in their cubicles.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he follows a unicorn mare as she moves south at a quick canter towards a local apartment building. As he circles invisibly overhead he watches as her horn ignites and every mailbox opens at once. Letter after letter floats out of her satchel and deposits itself in, presumably, the correct box before they’re all simultaneously closed.

The mare’s probably been doing this for years, but it still irks him a little to see somepony so much better at multitasking than he is. He grumbles quietly in the wind at the fact that, despite all attempts to find one, no cheat has made itself evident for improving horn proficiency. Sure, he is improving rather quickly by all metrics, but he’s still noticeably behind Dawn and, to a greater degree, Solar.

Preparing to peel away, he pauses for a moment as the mailmare continues her route, popping open mailboxes, levitating the deliveries inside, and closing them again without even slowing down in the slightest as she makes her way down the street.

Quirking a grin, the colt swoops down and dispels his invisibility. Lazily flapping his wings, he hovers to her left and calls out, “Good morning!”

The deep blue mare barely glances to her side, catching sight of a hovering pegasus colt but not really paying attention otherwise. “‘mornin,” she briskly replies without slowing her canter.

He easily keeps pace with her, smiling in silent laughter as other ponies pause to gawk, some openly pointing while hushed conversations about “the prince” and “his highness” reach his ears. He waves a hoof in greeting as he passes by the masses, some of them ducking their heads in a shallow bow as the determined postal carrier continues on unaware, despite the ponies ahead of her scrambling to move out of her way.

“Well, I don’t want to distract you from your work or anything,” he says, getting a grunt in reply, “but I happened to be flying by and saw how skilled you are with levitation and, now that I’ve seen how hard using a horn is, I didn’t want to fly off without complimenting your proficiency.”

“Uh huh. Thanks,” she mumbles as she moves on to the next business and lifts the lid on their mailbox.

“Okay, well… keep up the good work, miss!” She suddenly freezes mid-stride as “flying colt” plus “learned how to use a horn” add up in her mind. Finally turning to her left, she meets the widely grinning alicorn’s eyes as he waves goodbye. “Take care!” he calls out, internally cackling at her horrified expression before Teleporting a couple hundred meters into the sky and reactivating his Invisibility crystal.

He circles for another moment and watches as nearly every nearby pony rushes over to question the mare. He genuinely just wanted to compliment her, so the sudden mob surrounding her makes him feel a little guilty. One of the buildings down the street is an office for the Examiner, and it only takes a moment for a pair of mares to rush out of it headed for the mailmare, notepads and camera at the ready.

The poor mailmare seems to be freaking out a bit. She switches between staring up at the sky and answering questions every few seconds while nervously shuffling side to side on her left, then right hooves. Thankfully, the impromptu crowd almost immediately gets the attention of a passing guard squad who quickly intervenes, cutting off the crowd and ordering everypony to disperse so the unicorn can get back to work.

Lesson learned, Cure vows not to surprise anypony else until his rabid popularity diminishes somewhat. The interaction was hilarious right up until she was surrounded, and having some innocent fun turn into that is disappointing and more than a little upsetting. At least she wasn’t physically harmed, even if his dropping in probably ruined her whole morning.

With no good ways to help her that won’t likely make things worse, Cure pumps his wings to get above civilian traffic again and turns toward the ocean. Aware of his shift start time fast approaching, he gains speed and circles south of City Hall to aim for the water south of the docks. Only a few ships are in the bay; most were docked overnight, but the vessels that got an early start are making a steady procession eastward to open waters.

A few fishing boats are headed out too. Cure spots mixed crews; mostly ponies, of course, but, given the local demographics, a disproportionate number of griffons and hippogriffs are hard at work as well. He circles overhead and watches as a young hippogriff stallion flies off to the northeast, likely shooting further up the coast to dive and scout for good fishing grounds for the day.

Dozens of weather ponies are combing the skies for kilometers off the coast. He watches them work to flatten and spread the clouds thin over the bay and the closest approximation of beaches the city has. The layer of cloud cover still lets plenty of light from Celestia’s sun through, but also lowers the temperature a few degrees and drops the brightness down to more comfortable levels.

Further out to sea, patrols of pegasi keep a lookout on the ships coming and going while armored Equestria griffons and hippogriffs patrol higher and further out, gliding through the sky with ease on wings evolved specifically for that purpose. A few squads are either slacking off or taking a breather while camped out on small clouds looking down on passing ships.

Even further out, barely within perceptible range for the colt, is a patrolling airship with pegasi and griff escorts. It’s moving at, relatively speaking, a snail’s pace as it makes its way south. The light blue dirigible isn’t particularly large, but with the lightening enchantments imbued into the underslung flight deck it doesn’t need to be. Cure estimates it to be floating only a few hundred meters in the air, presumably to keep it below stronger air currents that would make steering the primitive vehicle nearly impossible.

Cure is confident that any pirate force out there knows better than to attempt to raid an Equestrian city, but is aware that boats, on occasion, do arrive at port having had their shipments stolen. Though infrequent even there, it’s more of a problem to the south near Tampa Neigh and New Horseleans due to their proximity to the area that pirates primarily launch from.

The Carribleatin Islands aren’t developed like their Earth equivalents and, due to the relative weakness of the Equestrian Navy and the lack of other effective governments to the south, pirates have relatively free rein in the area. As Cure understands it, most of the goods make their way southeast to Panthera or to the southwest to be sold off in Kludgetown and the other so-called “Free Cities” along the south and east coasts of the Bone Dry Desert, but some also end up being smuggled into Zebrica or Griffonstone’s southern lands.

It’s a problem he wouldn’t mind tackling when he’s older. The pirates very rarely harm crews unless they attempt to fight back, but “rarely” isn’t never, and he’s confident they won’t have anything that could save them from a fully empowered and battle-ready alicorn, so the risk to him is minimal.

Of course, he is aware enough of how tropes work to recognize that, inevitably, he’ll stumble upon the Staff of Sacanas or some other similar anti-alicorn artifact if he keeps up that line of thinking. Narrative Causality loves to remind creatures thinking themselves invincible that everycreature has at least some form of kryptonite.

As he heads further up north he passes to the east of the private docks. He estimates about sixty ships are berthed there. The Merry Mariner is one of the larger ones, but there’s still quite a few privately owned sailboats and pleasure craft along with a few smaller fishing boats.

Canterton Park is busier than he would expect given the early hour. Quite a few ponies are out jogging and chatting along the coastal paths and a few families are playing in the water at Mason’s Cove. He’s more than a little tempted to fly down and take a dive himself, but knows he can’t. Rarely does he regret how busy he’s made himself, but there’s occasions where his foal brain pushes him to play hooky and go have fun.

Wrenching his eyes away from the scene below, he heads back west towards Base Carol and veers south to avoid their airspace and whatever detection wards are installed. As he nears the hospital he can see a small line of reporters held back from the front doors by a couple hospital security ponies.

He activates his Teleport crystal and hops ahead only a few meters, the act dispelling his Invisibility at the same time. All heads snap up at the flash in the sky and several hooves point in his direction as he descends. He dives quickly before flaring his wings, enjoying the strong pull on his pectorals as he bleeds off speed far faster than a pegasus would normally be willing to try.

With a couple quick flaps he levels out, smoothly transitioning from flight to a fast trot just a few meters away from his three guards. He turns his head to the squad of reporters and raises his left wing in a wave while smiling at the crowd.

Several questions are shouted in his direction as he approaches Sgt. Blackhoof, but one causes him to pause. Despite the incident only happening a few minutes prior, somepony yells out asking about the mailmare and what his relation is to her.

Thus far in his time as a public figure, Cure has avoided making statements, especially to the press. Because of his sudden deviation from the norm, every reporter on the line goes dead silent when the young alicorn turns to respond.

“There is no relation between her and I. I didn’t even talk with her long enough to get her name. I happened to be flying overhead and noticed the mare’s amazing horn dexterity. I swooped down to say hi and compliment her, that is all. Dexterity with levitation is something I am working on since I wasn’t born with this fella,” he says, pointing to his horn with his hoof.

“I would like to apologize to the poor mare. Not only was I distracting an obviously diligent hard worker, but my presence also caused a scene far beyond what I anticipated and, more than likely, lengthened her work day as a result. That was obviously not my intent.

“I am saddened to see that even a common interaction with somepony on the street can result in such an overzealous response, and only feel vindicated in my decision to continue keeping my identity private. I appreciate that ponies are excited to see me, but I am certain nopony would desire that kind of attention for their family, their friends, or themselves every time they left their homes.” Piece said, he adds a quick, “Thank you,” turns, and ignores the follow-up questions shouted at his rear as he trots up to the hospital doors.

“‘Mornin, sarge.”

“Good morning sir. Nice speech. The mailmare okay?”

“She was when I flew off. I still feel bad though. Friggin stopped for ten seconds to say kudos and she got damn near mobbed as a result. A guard unit stepped in before it got out of hoof, thankfully. How ‘bout you all? Anything exciting happened so far?”

The stallion doesn’t bother hiding a grimace as he slowly nods. Instead of explaining he tilts his head to the doors. Cure gets the message easily enough and leads the three inside. The main reception area is fairly empty, though there are a few ponies milling about.

A pegasus stallion is sitting on a bench by the windows coughing pretty bad and an older unicorn mare is being tended to by her husband. The sight of him doting on her is adorable, but Cure doesn’t linger long, instead approaching Dr. Care who is waving him over. Being the hospital’s chief physician, she doesn’t typically act as his minder unless something unusual is going on.

“What’s up, doc?” the colt cheerfully asks.

“Nothin good,” she answers as she pushes open the doors that’ll take them to the ER area. “I’m sorry to involve you in this, highness, but there’s a bit of a situation that I think requires your attention. Or, at least, you’ll be able to resolve it better than we normally could.”

Cure raises a brow in question only to pause as they turn the corner that will lead them to the ER. He faintly makes out the sound of a shouting mare in the distance and, when his ears perk up and turn forward to catch the conversation, can make out that she’s rather forcefully insisting, “... we be released this instant!”

The doctor catches his reaction and gives him a surprised look. “You can hear that already?! Those ER doors are so thick they’re almost soundproof!” She shakes her head in disbelief and grumbles about alicorns before reminding him, “You still owe me a physical if your parents and the princess are okay with it.”

“Kinda forgot about that, to be honest. Today would be perfect since my first appointment at my business isn’t until one. You free for an early lunch? We could knock it out right afterwards.”

“Sure,” she agrees with a shrug, “That would be great. So,” she nods ahead of them and slows her trot to explain, “I suspect you’re hearing Lady Willow Bush insisting she and her husband be allowed to leave.

“They showed up to the ER about half an hour ago. The poor stallion has either a fracture or a bruised bone as best we can tell without running a scan. This isn’t the first time the pair have been here due to Elegant Flourish… that’s her husband… suffering similar, if typically less severe injuries.”

“Okay…”

“Everything was going fine until a nurse suggested you could patch them right up. She’s always a little… well, let’s say difficult, but when she realized today is a day you’re available she became downright belligerent.” She stops walking just before the doors and reaches over to settle a hoof on his withers. “Do you understand the situation?”

“I’m guessing the suspicion is that she’s abusing him.”

“We can’t prove that, but…” she trails off meaningfully.

“I don’t know if I can necessarily prove it, but if that is happening I should be able to provide fairly strong evidence.”

“I would assume so,” she agrees, “but the real issue is that she uses her title to get away with it repeatedly. She can’t do that with you.”

“You don’t let her get away with that crap, do you?”

The mare’s shoulders sag in disappointment. “I’ve never been able to get her separated from her husband long enough to talk to him. She always insists she be in the room, and he won’t speak up with her there. We end up treating him as best we can and sending them on their way, normally.”

“Okay. I think I understand.”

“Are you sure you want to deal with this?”

“Sure. What’s she going to do? I’m a prince of the realm. She answers to the princess and, indirectly, to me, not the other way around. Besides, the sarge has been dyin to show me how much flank he can whoop, ain’t that right?” he asks, looking over his withers at the dark stallion.

“I don’t recall saying that, sir,” the stallion flatly denies.

“No fun,” he huffs. “Either way, let’s take a gander and, if your hunch is right, we’ll sort out the mess from there. Chances are I’ll have to let the boss lady know. Nobles actin up ultimately answer to her.”

The green mare gives him a nod and holds the door open with her telekinesis. The colt takes point with the doctor then his guards falling in line. It isn’t difficult to follow the shouts around past the nurse’s station, nor would it be hard to find his way even if he were deaf considering how many employees are timidly looking around the wall’s corner at the spectacle.

As soon as Cure rounds the corner the mare’s eyes widen in horror. She’s a peach colored earth pony, probably in her early thirties, with a dark brown mane that’s all wound up into some kind of updo style Cure couldn’t possibly name. She’s wearing a rather nice looking black business suit along with a gold necklace with a large ruby resting on her chest; strange attire for an ER visit unless she plans on heading into the office afterwards.

The nurse follows her eyes, turns to see the colt and his entourage, and visibly sags in relief. Dr. Care dismisses him with a jerk of her head and the poor stallion doesn’t hesitate a second to make his escape, ducking his head in a shallow bow as he passes by.

“Lady Willow Bush, I presume?” Cure asks.

“Yes, your highness,” she answers, bowing her head as she backs into the doorway to the room.

“I understand your husband got a bit bruised up?”

“He tripped, but he’s fine! We don’t need to take up your highness’s time! I’m sure there’s plenty of ponies that are far more in need of your highness’s attention!”

“Nonsense! I couldn’t possibly neglect the husband of an esteemed noble such as yourself, especially when I can have him fixed up in just a moment. If you would, please, allow me by so I can check on Mr. Flourish’s condition.”

“Really, he’s -”

“I insist,” he says, all levity leaving the colt in an instant. Taking their cue, the three guards step closer to the colt and eye the mare. “In fact, Lady Bush, while you’re welcome to watch from outside the doorway, I’ll need some space to work.”

“Why can’t I be in the room?!” she demands.

“You can see everything from the doorway,” he explains as he trots past the mare. Cure is short enough that he can slip by her legs, but the larger earth pony makes it a little awkward for Dr. Care to get by with the way she’s standing in the entry. The sergeant steps up and orders her to move out of the way so he and the other two can take up their stations, but still leaves room for her to see past him.

“Howdy!” the colt chirps as he hops up on the foot of the bed. “Mr. Elegant Flourish, right?”

Despite the somewhat effeminate name, the earth pony stallion is every bit as large and strong looking as any other earth pony stallion. Cure had been prepared for a smaller, more waifish appearance based on the suspicion that a mare inflicted the described injuries, but that’s clearly an unfair assumption on his part.

The stallion has a very light pastel blue coat and deep purple hair which is pulled back into a long, braided ponytail. Hairstyle and color aside, there’s nothing particularly unusual about him.

“Yes sir, your highness! Sorry I can’t bow, but,” he motions to his obviously injured left foreleg with a wince.

“Oh I think we can let it slide this time,” he playfully remarks. “As far as your leg is concerned I’ll have you all fixed up in a jiffy.” He visibly ignites his horn for show and scans the stallion, unfortunately finding exactly what Dr. Care expected. Cure uses his Sound Bubble crystal to surround the three and comments. “Got a bit banged up, it seems. How exactly did that happen?”

“I slipped when I was getting out of the shower, sir,” he answers. The stallion is a terrible liar; not only are his ears pinned back, but he’s stealing glances at his wife at the doorway as he answers, almost as if he’s worried she’s going to yell at him depending on his answer.

“We’re inside of a Sound Bubble,” Cure explains. “Nopony outside can hear you. For the record, this injury is absolutely not from a fall. The only way this happened from you falling is if you somehow managed to kick your left foreleg on the outside of it with your right hoof on the way down. That would take a heck of a contortionist to pull off. From the color I’m guessing this happened at least twelve hours ago, not this morning.”

“You… you can tell?”

“I can. I can also tell you have a lot of other bruises and a few older injuries that I suspect aren’t from falls either.” The stallion’s shoulders, ears, and tail all sag as if he’s being accused of perjury.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Mr. Flourish. I have a pretty good idea about how you’re getting injured, but I can’t cast a spell and fix the underlying problem. I can heal you up and send you on your way, but if somepony is hurting you and you want it to stop then you’ll have to at least cooperate with an investigation.”

Mr. Flourish shuffles slightly in the bed, glancing between Cure, Dr. Care, and his wife. Cure spares a look over his withers and finds that she’s arguing with Sgt. Blackhoof about something. Given she’s excluded from the conversation, he can only assume she’s insisting she be allowed into the Bubble. Unfortunately for her, Cure’s authority far outstrips hers, so the dark stallion is stalwartly refusing her demands.

“What’ll happen?” he finally asks, glancing between the colt and the doctor.

“Normally, counseling, probably,” she answers. “Maybe some community service, but she’ll definitely be ordered to talk to somepony. Since she is a Lady,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “it’ll ultimately be up to the princess.”

“What about our foals?”

“Where are they?” Cure asks. “Right now, I mean.”

“My sister’s watching them.”

Realization that there’s foals involved belatedly registers and Cure immediately asks, “Does she hit you in front of them?” More urgently he adds, “Does she hit them too?!”

“No! Never!”

The tension in the room eases as he blows out a sigh of relief. “Good. You mean ‘No’ to both questions, right?”

“Of course!”

“Alright, I understand. I just gotta be sure, mister. In case it gets worse when you leave, do you have somewhere you and your foals can stay until this gets sorted out?”

“I… I can stay with her, too. She’s been insisting I do so for months.”

“Ah. She’s aware?” The stallion slowly nods, eyes downcast. “It ain’t your fault, dude. Don’t go blaming yourself. This is something she needs to work through.” He turns to the doctor and asks, “How do you typically approach this?”

“I’ve run a scan, so I can verify your findings. Go ahead and fix Mr. Flourish up,” she instructs. “We’ll get all the paperwork together and Send a message to the local guard station so they can do their part. Lady Bush should be detained overnight. I’m not exactly sure if her status will make a difference there. You may be called to testify, you realize?”

Cure bobs his head in understanding. “I figured. Here,” he says, reaching under his wing to remove a wooden hoof and a small stack of papers. “This is an exact duplicate of the size and shape of the hoof that caused his injuries.

“It’s not exactly a smoking… err… it’s not irrefutable proof, especially since there’s no blatantly obvious chips or splits in the hoof wall to pin it to anypony specific, but I bet it matches up perfectly with Lady Bush’s right forehoof in size, at least. The papers there lists his injuries and has my signature and mark on it as well as today’s date along with illustrations detailing everything.”

The doctor takes it all in her magic and begins reading the document and leafing through the pictures. Her brow shoots up when she gets to the embossed replica of the colt’s seal and she has to briefly suppress the desire to look and see what else he’s got under that wing. The stallion has a look of utter confusion as he tries to piece together how the colt made those on the spot.

Not deigning to explain, Cure turns to the stallion and informs him, “You’re all set, Mr. Flourish. Your leg is good as new and I’ve fixed up everything else I could find.” More firmly, he adds, “Just remember - Nopony has the right to hurt you. Ever. Okay?”

A slow, solemn nod is the stallion’s only response.

“When the guards arrive to question you I recommend you be honest with them,” Dr. Care suggests. “This has been going on too long, and you don’t deserve it. Nopony deserves it. Be strong, Mr. Flourish. Not just for yourself, but also for your foals.”

Cure can’t help but nod in agreement. He’s not sure exactly how this kind of thing is handled in Equestria, but he’s confident that his presence and witnessing the injuries will effectively prevent the mare trying to abuse whatever authority she may think she has to get off scot free.

With a final farewell Cure hops off the short bed and dispels the Sound Bubble, unhappy to hear Lady Bush still arguing with Sgt. Blackhoof as he makes his way to the door. “What’s the problem here?” he asks, glancing between the two.

The mare rounds on him and opens her mouth to verbally lash out, but catches herself before she does, literally biting her lips to hold in the, Cure is certain, cheery response. She takes a calming breath and asks, “Is my husband all better? May we leave now, your highness?”

“He’s all patched up,” Cure answers, “but due to the nature of his injuries I’m afraid guard involvement will be necessary, Lady Bush.” Her eyes widen and she goes stock still at the news. “Until the squad arrives to speak to you, I’ll have to insist you wait in the lobby area. Sergeant Blackhoof and Specialist Twist will -”

“You can’t keep me from my husband!” she screeches.

The entire hallway goes silent as everypony freezes and turns to stare.

Furious at the overall situation and, specifically, at the interruption, Cure feels his wings lift slightly in agitation. He raises a single hoof to point at the mare and, in a calm, conversational tone that carries throughout the entire hallway, he firmly instructs, “You will not interrupt me again, Lady Willow Bush. Is that understood?”

The blood drains from her face as panic sets in. Furiously nodding, she nearly shouts, “Yes, your highness! Apologies, your highness!”

“You will wait in the lobby. You will cooperate with both the sergeant and the guards that are on their way. You will not do anything to garner my attention again today. I will be informing Princess Celestia of this… situation tonight.”

The mare dips into a quick bow and immediately flees the area, tail literally tucked between her legs and head down.

“Sergeant, please keep an eye on her until the local squad arrives.” The stallion snaps to attention and gives Cure a salute before following in the mare’s hoofsteps. “Specialist Twist,” he calls as he turns to his unicorn guard, “Ensure Mr. Flourish is not unduly disturbed until he has an opportunity to speak to them. Only employees and necessary staff in his room, okay?”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” he barks and snaps off a salute.

“Appreciated. And specialist, I am authorizing you to use whatever force you deem necessary should unwelcome guests,” he flicks his eyes towards the lobby, “attempt to get by you.”

“Understood, sir!” At the colt’s nod he trots back to the stallion’s room and stands at attention by the door.

Confrontation over, Cure takes a deep calming breath and stretches his wings up before resettling them. The normal sounds of motion return to the surroundings as everpony gets back to work. He idly comments, “I never expected somepony to literally ruffle my feathers.”

The quip gets a chuckle from Dr. Care as she finishes giving instructions to the staff at the nurses’ station. “She has a bit of a way about her, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. Really brings the best out of ponies. So, doc, is there anypony in the ICU I need to check on?”

“Nope. You got ‘em all on Wednesday and nopony has needed to stay in there since. Your out of town transfers will be showing up in few, though. I have a few things to take care of. See you at lunch?”

“Sounds good, doc. C’mon, Specialist, let’s go see what other excitement we can get into.”

“Height and weight first,” she instructs. Cure hops on the scale and watches as she moves the counterweights over a notch at a time, then slides an arm down the machine to rest on his withers.

“Eighty-nine point three kilos,” she mumbles to herself while noting it down on her form, “and just a tad over sixty-nine cm. I half expected you to shoot up overnight after all this,” she suggests, motioning to his horn.

“The boss lady said I should mature normally.”

A brow creeps up as she asks, “Has experience, hmm?”

“No comment, doc.”

She nods in acceptance and waves at the table. “Alright. Strip and hop up.”

Dr. Care trots over to the opposite counter, taps the Cleaning crystal, and turns around to find the colt undressed and laying suggestively on his right side with his left hind leg slightly forward and outstretched, his wing partially opened and stretching back to cover his pride. He bats his suddenly longer lashes at the mare and, in a suddenly deep voice, huskily says, “I’m ready whenever you are, Doctor Care.”

She closes her eyes and looks up to the heavens in a silent prayer for more patience. inhaling deeply and blowing out a long sigh. “Colt…” she growls, opening her eyes to find him sitting normally with his head cocked in confusion.

“Somethin wrong, doc?”

“Behave, or I will whack you with this clipboard.” Said clipboard waves not very menacingly in the air.

“Do you typically threaten your patients?”

“Only the special ones.” She looks around in confusion and asks, “Where did you put your suit?”

“Away,” he fails to answer, smirking at the mare’s nonplussed reaction.

“Whatever. Let’s start with the usuals.”

He nods in understanding as she lifts a tape measure up to his horn then pauses, eyeing him warily and waiting for him to do something. He stares back projecting the very image of innocence for a few seconds until she rolls her eyes and writes down its length. The process repeats for his barrel circumference, length, wing length and depth, neck length and circumference, and everything else appropriate for a foal’s physical.

“Your horn is a little longer, but I would expect that. Your wingspan is a bit wide, but then so are you, so…” she drifts off with a shrug. “You’re awfully heavy for a colt your age, even if your height is typical. Barrel and neck circumference are on the high side, but again… wide, even for an earth pony foal.”

“You callin me fat, doc?” Cure asks in faux outrage.

Dr. Care scoffs and shakes her head. “Not hardly.”

“Just give it to me straight, doc. How long do I got?”

“Not long if you keep being a pest.” She doesn’t need to look up from her notes to know he’s pouting.

“Alright. Pulse, blood pressure, and temperature,” she says, levitating her stethoscope into place.

She places the chestpiece just behind his left foreleg pit, recoiling away when the beat suddenly goes wild. His mischievous grin gives the joke away almost instantly and the mare blows out another sigh. “Cure,” she pleadingly calls, relieved when the normal thump-thump resumes. “Nightmare,” she grumbles under her breath.

“Deep breaths,” she instructs, moving the stethoscope after each one.

“Respiration is normal. Heart rate’s normal. Maybe a tad on the lower end,” Dr. Care comments. With a slight growl she adds, “At least, now it is.”

“I thought you’d appreciate a ‘lil music, doc. At least the tune was catchy.”

“If you say so,” she noncommittally grunts as she takes notes. She levitates a thermometer over and crams it into his mouth without warning, smirking slightly at the weak scowl he sends her way. “Thirty seven point seven. Okay, blood pressure.”

Cure stands and turns sideways as she levitates the foal-sized cuff over. She wraps it around the base of his tail and begins inflating it while listening with her stethoscope. She notes his systolic pressure and hits the release valve, turning when she catches motion out of the corner of her eye. The mare barely holds back a snort when she finds him looking back at her with his cheeks puffed, eyes bugged out, and ears slowly deflating like the cuff on his tail. She huffs in amusement and notes his diastolic pressure, remarking, “Always gotta do something, don’t ya?”

A cheeky grin is his answer.

“Temperature, blood pressure, unmodified heart rate… if I didn’t know better I’d swear you’re still an earth pony. I suppose that makes sense, given,” she trails off waving vaguely at his physique.

“Yeah, not much changed with my stature when all this,” he briefly lifts his wings, “happened.”

“Right. I would expect a unicorn, bat, or pegasus to thicken up somewhat, but if you already have an earth pony’s build then there’s not much to add.”

“Pretty much. Just a few accessories and some different choppers.”

“Oh, right! Open up and say ‘Ahh.’” The colt complies, allowing her to illuminate his mouth with her horn. “Yep. From the inside of your mouth I would assume you were a bat. I’m guessing the forked tongue is just you messing with me?”

His shoulders sag as he groans lightly in disappointment.

“Hop down and push against that with one hoof,” she instructs and projects a shield panel.

Cure braces and lightly pushes, pausing to ask, “How hard should I push?”

“As hard as you -” he latches onto the ground, ups his mass as much as he can, and pushes forward as hard as possible, nearly falling when the panel pops - “FUCK!” she yelps, wincing and rubbing at her horn with her fetlock. “What the Tartarus, colt?!”

“Sorry, doc!” He hops over and nuzzles into her chest, looking up with genuine concern. “You okay? Need me to help?”

“I’m fine,” she insists, blinking a couple times before looking down at him. She wraps a hoof around him to calm him down and apologizes. “Sorry I yelled like that. I didn’t expect that.”

“Doc, really… I totally get it. A naughty word ain’t gonna hurt my feelings, ya know? If you want me to, I can fix ya right up.”

“Nah. It’s okay, really,” she insists, waving the concern away with her hoof. “What did you do?”

“Pushed hard?” he answers questioningly.

She sighs again and jots down another note. “I should have made it tougher given how strong you are. That was on me.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll just go ahead and mark down that you’re all good when it comes to strength. I guess I could have skipped that section.”

“Definitely.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking you to the therapy area to get hard numbers, but that’s not urgent. Stand at that line,” she releases him and waves at the floor, then motions to an eyesight chart on the wall opposite him, “and read the lowest line you can.”

Cure approaches the line, noting a second chart against the wall in front of him. The letters at the top start off about the same size as the bottom row of the farther one. He looks over his withers and cocks a brow at the doctor.

“Let me guess, you can read the whole chart?”

“Easily. What’s this one for?” He asks, pointing to the one right over his head.

The doctor ignites her horn and grabs onto the chart opposite him. She moves it aside to reveal a mirror angled to show the chart over his head. “How about now?”

“Ah. Crafty.” Dr. Care watches closely, eyes widening when the colt’s scleras seem to rotate. “C. O. N. G… wait, congrats?”

“Yep. Congrats. You have better than perfect vision. For a griffon,” she finishes in a deadpan.

“Oh. Neat. For the record, a normal alicorn’s vision isn’t any better than a pegasus in daylight and more or less the same as a bat’s in low light. I modified my eyes so I can zoom in like an eagle,” he explains, demonstrating the effect again.

“Huh. That’s useful for a flyer, I suppose.”

“Very much at higher altitudes,” he agrees. “At this distance all it’s good for is counting how many nose hairs ya got.”

“I…” she pauses, brows furrowed. “That seems somewhat less useful.”

He shrugs and bobs his head in agreement.

“Are you okay with giving samples?” She waves back to the table silently asking him to hop back on. While he’s doing so she opens a cabinet door and retrieves a tray of sample containers.

“Blood?”

“Blood, urine, saliva, a feather, a small shaving of your horn and a hoof, a cut of your mane, tail, and a few strands of your coat. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Nodding along as the doctor lists everything, Cure assures her, “All of that’s fine. Just gimme a minute on the urine sample. I’ll have to whip some up real fast.”

The mare blinks in surprise at the odd statement. Head cocked in confusion, she opens her mouth, only to fail to come up with a good response. “Pardon?”

He reaches up and bonks himself on the head. “Yeah, my bad there! I kinda forgot and did a whole system purge right after lunch.” He pats his belly and says, “I only have a smidge in the ‘ol bladder at the moment.”

“Cure… I ate with you.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then we came here.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t notice a line of pee trailing behind you on the way.”

“I hope you would have said something right away if you had. I don’t pee anymore, doc.”

She goes wide-eyed and shouts, “Alicorns don’t pee?!”

“No, no, we do,” he insists, waving his hooves side to side. “I mean, I would, normally, but pee is just about pure water, so I just Transmute the contaminants and recycle it instead of literally pissing it away. I do something similar with poop. I haven’t used the bathroom for a couple months now.

“Don’t get me wrong, there’s times where I kinda miss that euphoric release when you hold it in too long, but simply not having to go potty at all is like… sooo convenient! Ya know, now that I think about it, I probably have the cleanest butthole on the entire planet. Go me!” he cheers, clapping overhead in a self high-hoof.

“I admit, I haven’t asked the boss lady about her toileting, but I’m assuming even her highness has to potty about as often as any other mare. Presumably with the utmost poise and grace.”

“But… how in Tartarus are you transmuting stuff inside yourself?!”

“Magic?” The flat look tells the colt that his answer is somehow insufficient. “I can just sprout a horn.”

“Right, I’ve seen you retract yours.”

“Internally, I mean. Or externally.”

“You have two horns?”

“Umm… right this moment, yes. I can have as few or many as I want, though. You do realize I’m capable of full-on shapeshifting, right?”

“Huh. I’ve seen you do small stuff, but I guess I hadn’t considered the possibility. How do you deal with things like…” she drifts off in thought. “I guess blood flow isn’t much of an issue if it’s only a few seconds, is it?”

“Nope. Just gotta deaden the nerves for a moment. I normally keep pain receptors off most of the time when I’m out anyhow.”

“Okay. How about that wing thing? I’ve seen you pull stuff out from one or the other wing sometimes. How are you doing that?”

“Spatial pouches under my skin. I keep extra biological material in there along with some knick-knacks.” Cure lifts his right wing and starts withdrawing his spare parts supply. Just like he’d shown his unicorn friends, he pulls out griffon talons and a beak and sets them on the examination table. He doesn’t stop there, laying out a set of paws, Ferric’s staff, a feline muzzle, hands, a griffon tail, his sword, and an elephant’s trunk that matches his normal blue coat color.

Dr. Care stares impassively until the last item is sat down. As soon as he pulls out the trunk she steadfastly refuses to look and, instead, stares him in his eyes. “Damnit, Cure! I know about the stupid coronation prank! You don’t have to show me your spare… unit!”

The colt can’t help but laugh aloud as he picks up the harmless snout. “It isn’t what you think it is, doc!” He slaps the end of it on his own and alters the colors to the typical gray, then waves it in the air for her to more easily see. “It’s a trunk, ya goof! Good thing yer not a vet, huh?”

“Oh. Well. Now I just feel dumb.”

Eyebrows wagging, Cure points the trunk straight out. “Seems a little small for that, dontchya think?”

“Maker above,” she sighs, rubbing her brow with her pastern. “I feel a deep well of sympathy for whoever you marry.”

“Shit, doc, they couldn’t get any luckier. I showed the princess this once. It’s totally harmless and not the slightest bit inappropriate. Would you be okay with me demonstrating something on your ear?” he asks, pointing to her left ear with his new trunk.

“Umm… okay?”

Just like he had for Celestia, he uses his talent to massage her ear muscles and causes every pleasurable nerve ending in the area to fire off at full force. The mare moans out loud and immediately begins leaning into the phantom feeling. Cure has to stop and catch her with telekinesis so she doesn’t face-plant. “Sweet Celestia,” she slurs, regaining her balance and crashing down onto her haunches. “Please… don’t do that again, ever.”

“Not unless ya ask nicely,” he teases.

“Freakin nine years old,” she sighs, shaking her head. “You’re way too much like an adult, colt.”

Cure bobs his head in agreement and gives her a “what can you do” shrug. He starts putting away his assortment of items, including the trunk, and asks, “So, got the sample kits nearby?”

She nods and turns to open a cabinet door and pulls out a tray of sample collection cups. It takes her a moment to label each one before passing them to the young alicorn. “Here ya go. Do you need any pri… never mind,” she sighs, watching as Cure removes the lids from the blood and urine containers, tucks the cups under a wing, does a full-body shudder and lets out a content “Ahhh,” and pulls them back out filled to the line with his fluids.

“You put them in the wrong ones, dummy,” she points out.

Cute checks the labels and, sure enough, he put blood in the urine cup and vice versa. “Whoops!” he exclaims, tucking them both back under his wing.

“No! Wait!” she belatedly yells, groaning when the cups disappear from sight. “I could have just switched the labels!”

“Oh. Well, problem solved anyhow,” he says, capping then passing her the now corrected cups.

She sighs again and shakes her head, then reaches for the swabs for the saliva sample. Cure floats the bottle over, opens it, dumps the swabs out, and opens his mouth. His tongue snakes out and up, arching so it points down to hover over the bottle held in his magic. The end opens like a budding flower and spurts a glob of saliva into the cup before, like somepony yanked on it, whipping back into his mouth.

“That’s not where saliva...” she starts, then shakes her head and moves on. “That was even more bizarre than the other samples. And, somehow, the trunk.”

“Nopony likes a kink shamer, doc.”

“Cure… just… no. Give me some hair and feather samples and, I swear, if you do something weird I’ll hold you down and pluck them myself.”

Cure gives the mare a challenging look.

She narrows her eyes in warning.

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re damn right, colt!” she growls. “Just try me!”

He stands, takes off his crown, spreads his wings wide, and with a mighty snout-to-tail shake, every hair, feather, piece of his tail, and strand of his mane flies off in a cloud of gold and brown. The mare recoils in horror, watching as uncountable pieces of hair and hundreds of feathers float slowly to the ground a cloud, somehow not landing on the colt at all. He stands smirking victoriously with every centimeter of his body completely bare and redons his crown.

Standing triumphantly he meets her eyes and throws his forelegs wide, shouting, “Bring it on, doc!”

Shortly after sunset

“Cure?” Celestia calls in a worried tone.

She lets out a breath of relief when the colt hops up and wraps her his customary hug, calling out, “‘evenin, princess!” as he does.

She embraces him with a wing and lays down, confessing, “When I felt your presence in the astral I was concerned. Did something happen?”

“Nothing I would call urgent,” he insists, settling between her forelegs with his rump against her chest. “We’ve never really talked about procedure here, so I figured I should give you a heads-up on something I encountered earlier. I don’t know if you know Lady Willow Bush,” he pauses and looks up for her response.

“Yes?” she answers with a questioning lilt. “Her family has served as counselors and advisors to the office of the mayor for generations. Her dam has been the Baltimare City Auditor for over a decade, and she, herself, has served on the provincial Nutritional Advisory Board overseeing the Baltimare region for… I believe six years now.”

Cure nods along, confirming what Dr. Care had told him during lunch. “She’s beating on her dude.”

Caught off guard by the blunt statement, Celestia blinks in surprise and tilts her head. “Excuse me?!”

Cure shrugs and gives a slow nod. “Yeah. He came to the ER today because he,” Cure mimes air quotes, “‘slipped getting out of the shower.’ The problem being the injuries were from being kicked, and not in a way he could pull off without flexibility I wouldn’t expect from a typical stallion. Or a pony at all, for that matter.”

“That… is a serious accusation. They have three young foals, if I’m not mistaken.” She pauses to look down at the smaller alicorn and amends, “I suppose young is relative. The oldest is approximately your age.”

“According to Mr. Flourish they are completely unharmed and, allegedly, unaware of the whole thing. I’m doubtful of the latter, but that’s neither here nor there. I expect you’ll get the full detailed report from… well, somepony. The captain or Lt. Quill?” he half asks.

“Captain Stance,” she confirms with a nod.

“’kay. Well, as best I can tell this has been going on for a while. I can’t say how long, but he’s definitely taken a shot or two in the ribs as well as his right hip in the past. Nothing above the shoulders, at least. I patched him up good as new and gave Dr. Care pictures and a list of all the injuries I could find.”

Celestia sighs and shakes her head in disappointment. “Such a shame. I’ve only met her husband on a couple occasions, but he always seemed such a sweet, gentle stallion.” She takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “Once the investigation concludes I will issue a summons for Lady Bush, assuming you are correct, of course.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty confident I’m right. The doc said this isn’t their first rodeo, but she throws her weight around, insisting she not be separated from him. That scares and-or shames the dude into keepin his mouth shut, so nothin ever went anywhere. Well, she couldn’t pull that crap with me, so tough luck.”

An errant thought occurs to the colt, so he looks up to the princess and asks, “Hey, she won’t be able to bully the guards into saying something different, will she?”

“Absolutely not,” she strongly insists, “especially now that you have made me aware.”

“Good. I did tell her I would be informing you, so hopefully she won’t even try. I’ll be more than a little miffed if anypony tries to sweep this under the rug.”

“As will I,” she readily agrees. “I will let you know when I see the report.” She nuzzles the right side of his face and assures him, “You did the right thing, informing me. I do not mind, but in the future so long as you have been able to address the immediate problem you do not need to go out of your way to tell me right away. I trust you can deal with such situations well enough.”

“Thanks, Celestia,” he says, happy to return the affection. “I’ll hold off until our normal sessions from now on unless the need is more urgent.” He takes a deep breath and blows out a long sigh, glad to officially hoof the matter over for now. “So… now that the important stuff’s outta the way, did I catch you in the middle of anything?”

“Worry not, Cure. You were not interrupting anything important. I had just settled in to read before bed when I felt your presence. I do not, however, have any urgent updates for you on anything. The package with your revitalization treatments, as well as the antifungal agent, arrived on Wednesday. Needless to say, the former caused quite a stir when I presented it to the researchers.”

“I would imagine so. Hopefully I won’t show up to Canterlot next time and find my likeness slapped all over every medical building.”

“No promises,” she teases.

“Awesome,” he deadpans. “By the way, my parents said yes to Detrot for the births. Amy will probably come with me at first, but everypony else wants to come visit at some point, especially my dam. They’ll all probably head over on the second or third weekend just to visit for a day or two, but I figure if we’re going to have thousands of high risk dams all traveling at once I may not have a lot of free time.”

“I certainly did not intend to ask you to work for an entire month without breaks, Cure. Dams will be arriving three to four weeks before their due date, so while there is a great deal of urgency, given the circumstances, there will be sufficient time for you to have days to recover. Alicorn or not, you are still a foal not ten years old, after all.”

“Okay. That sounds good to me.”

“If I may make a suggestion?”

“Anytime, boss.”

“Why not have them come to Canterlot? They can arrive on a Thursday evening, rest at the castle Friday, then you can join them Friday evening for dinner and sleep in your own bed. Even for a pegasus the flight from Detrot is less than half an hour, so you could easily be here in time.”

“That sounds great, princess! I’m sure everypony will be super excited to see you again. Don’t worry about my sire. He’s not the jealous type, so if you wanna bring your dude along I can guarantee he won’t give ‘em the ol’ shovel speech or anything.”

“I am inordinately relieved,” she flatly comments.

“Speakin of seeing you again, have you decided about next Friday?”

“I… don’t think I'll be attending, Cure,” she sighs. “It does sound like a fun evening, but I had hoped to see if I could happen upon Comet again.”

“That’s the dude’s name? Comet?” Don’t make a reindeer joke. Don’t make a reindeer joke.

“It is,” she confirms, a faint smile crossing her lips.

“Oooo… Celestia’s got it baaaaa-aaad! Tia and Comet sittin in a tree,” he teasingly sings, only stopping when she maturely responds with a raspberry.

“It has been many a century since you will have found me in a tree, young colt,” she haughtily declares.

“Not even a tree house?”

She scoffs and shakes her head no. “They do not typically build those alicorn-sized. Especially me-sized.”

“Just outta curiosity, and this is one of those things we can’t discuss in more detail here, are there large, hollowed-out trees that can, effectively, double as a building?”

Celestia is taken aback at the odd question. She ponders for a moment before slowly nodding. “In the minotaur lands exceptionally skilled druids are said to make their homes in such structures. I have never been in one myself, but I understand most of them to be somewhat cramped, even with a talented practitioner; more proof of their proficiency than practical, I would say.”

“Wait a second. The asshole ambassador called me an abomination that perverts nature, but their most skilled magicians use trees as a home? What the hay, boss?!”

“It is different from what you do. They do not change the tree, as such, but instead encourage it to grow in the needed shape from the moment it is planted. The process does not alter the basic properties of the tree, only its size and shape. And, I suppose, its health. Those trees are said to live for centuries; possibly indefinitely if the druid’s family continues caring for them.

“You, on the other hoof, alter the fundamental nature of what you use for your creations. I do not want you to think I am in any way agreeing with Ambassador Quickhorn’s behavior, especially given your youth, but his argument about the way you change things is not wholly inaccurate.”

“Eh, I know that. Doesn’t make him any less of a prick for acting like that.”

“It certainly does not,” she immediately agrees.

“Hrm. Well, I may need to make a trip over to Ponyville at some point in the next few decades then. I bet I could find an excuse at some point while I’m livin in Canterlot during school.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you can explain further next time you visit.”

“You bet. Good luck hunting down your dude, boss. If you end up wanting me to give him the deluxe upgrade just give me a holler.”

“Deluxe upgrade?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely! So far my pa’s the only stallion on the planet with the deluxe upgrade. I offered it to Solar but he seems perfectly content with the standard equipment. A shame, really, given how much my moms - and my sire, for that matter - all seem to appreciate it. With gusto, even. Trust me, boss, once you make that leap you’ll never look back.”

Celestia closes her eyes and sighs while shaking her head. “I believe your offer may be premature, Cure.”

“That just happens to be one of the problems the deluxe upgrade addresses!”

“Goodnight, Cure,” she calls, ignoring his last statement entirely.

“Goodnight, Celestia,” he returns, sitting up and twisting to give her a hug. “And remember the three date rule, boss. I’m rootin for ya!” he cheers before popping out of existence.

Author's Note

Poor Cure. He just wants to help! The boss lady doesn't know what she's missing out on, but she'll come around eventually. Maybe.

And with that chapter LFaW has broken the million word barrier. If I was a better planner maybe that would have happened on a more epic note or something, but... meh. I'll take it. I am about 2/3 the way through 90 and have 91 and 92 somewhat planned out. I'm thinking I'll keep up the every-other-week schedule for a while until I can build a backlog up again and/or I have more free time to write.

We'll start seeing some more 1, 2, or more week jumps in the dates as I hold back some ideas I have until Cure gets a bit older. The format I am envisioning will be more skips and bunches where the day-to-day life happens in the background, but when something big comes up it may take two or three chapters to explore. Of course, I've said this a half dozen other times, and here we are... The original plan was to have him be an adult about 700k words in and we're at 1.5x that in less than a year. Oh well, it's worked so far.

As always, thanks for reading. Enjoy!