Tuesday, August 25th, 909 AB (2 days later)

The colt awakes with a start, unable to recall the dream he was having. He glances at the window, finding that the world outside is still dark, though Luna’s moon casts long shadows to the east as it approaches the opposite horizon. Both fillies are tucked under his extended right wing, the bottom layer of which separates from the colt, leaving behind a warm, downy blanket to cover the pair.

A quick scan of the house, the yard, and the network of trees and bushes lining the path to the shop reveal nothing out of place. A few ponies are already making their way to the train station while others are headed to work locally. Cure spots several of the guards he’s come to know headed to the station. The massive earth pony mare, Rushing Charge, is gleefully skipping along beside an exhausted looking Silent Bolt, the former whistling a happy tune while the latter quietly grumbles at his colleague’s good mood.

Cure finishes his morning maintenance and disconnects from his plant. He can’t bring himself to sneak away without gently nuzzling Lotus and Cherry’s barely exposed snouts before he carefully lifts off the bed, hovers to the door, and quietly slips out. The door pulls shut behind him and, without touching the floor, he levitates down the hall towards the stairs.

Despite his attempts to escape undetected, his parent’s door quietly opens and a yellow head pops out. Caught red-hoofed, the colt diverts to wrap his forelegs around her neck in a hug. “Gonna go get treats. Any special request?” he whispers, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Lemon ponders only a moment before shrugging and shaking her head no. “Go ahead,” she returns, shooing him to the stairs, “I’ll have coffee ready when you get back. Be careful.”

He gives her an acknowledging smile and nod as he floats down the steps. He retracts his horn, alters his colors, and withdraws his staff in the near-complete darkness of the entryway before silently slipping out the front door.

A hop and a flap send the colt straight up into the sky. He climbs quickly and reaches about fifty meters height, then turns nearly ninety degrees to the southeast, shooting directly to the bakery he frequents near Town Hall. He comes in for a landing not far away and makes his way to the door, pulling it open and smiling broadly when a familiar mare starts trotting out on three hooves, a to-go cup cradled in the crook of her right fetlock.

“Good morning, Miss Audit!” he cheerfully calls to the pink pegasus taxpony.

The mare does a double take, nearly choking on the slurp of coffee she’d taken. Her eyes flick to the staff on his withers before taking in his thick, stocky build. “OH!” she shouts, her head dipping slightly, “Good morning, your hiiiii-yi-yi-” she freezes, stuck on the same sound as her eyes widen in shock and panic, “- flying young colt!”

Cure forgets to breathe for at least five seconds. His mouth hangs open in stunned silence for what seems like an eternity until his brain finally reboots. A quick scan of their surroundings shows nopony within earshot outside of the bakery, but the mares behind the counter inside caught the exchange and are staring at the pair, frozen and waiting with bated breath.

“I do like to fly high,” he forces himself to say. “I hope you have a wonderful day, Miss Audit,” he evenly replies, doing his best to to maintain his calm. When the mare stays rooted, trembling in place, he sighs and hangs his head. “Go on. Have a good day and don’t worry. Clearly this was just a case of mistaken identity,” he assures her.

The pegasus audibly gulps, vehemently nodding in agreement. As soon as the okay is given, she slinks away, tail tucked tightly to her rear and wings hugged nearly flat to her sides. Cure takes a deep breath as he watches her almost crawl away towards Town Hall. Finally mentally shaking himself back to motion, he steps into the shop and pulls the door shut behind him. He casually approaches the counter just like normal, paying no mind to the petrified, gawking mares standing behind it.

With his wings spread back to offset his weight, he rears up and rests one hoof on the counter as the other paws at his chin. “Hmm… I’ll have one of those delicious looking coffee cakes,” he says, pointing to the display, “a dozen cress-sants,” that gets a snorted laugh from the mare behind the register, “and can you do me a favor?” She immediately nods. “I would like three coffees and three hot chocolates, and can you put two chocolate chip and two blueberry muffins each in three smaller boxes?”

“Certainly… umm… sir?” she replies, ending in a hesitant, questioning lilt.

“Riddle,” he says in introduction. “Just plain Riddle, ma’am,” he adds, shallowly bobbing his head.

All tension has left both mares’ bodies by now, and they quickly begin gathering the requested items with a cheerful, “Right away!”

He reaches in his mane and withdraws forty bits as they work, setting them onto the counter. A few other ponies enter the shop and get in line behind him as the pair work. They watch in curiosity as the apparent-pegasi foal uses a staff to levitate his order above himself and makes his way to the door, calling back, “Thanks! Keep the change!”

Before getting underway, the colt focuses on one of the three sets of drinks and muffins, picturing its destination in his mind. Ferric is, by far, the furthest away, but with only a few hundred grams to teleport he has no difficulty at all. One box, one coffee, and one hot chocolate disappear in a flash, quickly followed by a small note. The scene repeats itself two more times, drawing a few curious ponies that glance his way as they pass. That’s fine, though. Today should be the day when he can finally stop worrying about such things. Task complete, the colt crouches down, lightens himself, reinforces his grip on the remaining confections, and blasts off into the pre-dawn sky.

“The staff,” Amethyst suggests, jerking her snout towards the item in question. “I ain’t never seen no foals runnin ‘round with a staff ‘cept when playin make believe.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, idly scooping up another bite of his coffee cake. “It won’t matter soon enough. I’ll be away in Canterlot and my double will be here pretending to be me. Everypony’ll see ‘Cure Wave’ goin to work just like normal, so hopefully that’ll cause enough doubt that they’ll not make an issue out of it.”

He’s not the only one putting the hammer down on the sugary confection. Savvy is humming contently after each small bite her dam spoons her, and even the twins are pawing at both Deed and Vines for more.

The young alicorn always feels a little guilty comparing ponies to pets, but the way Golden and Blazer are repeatedly begging for more is exactly what he’d expect from any of the dogs Ed had over the years. They’re far too young to have their own, but the tiny, torn off pieces that his parents are passing them won’t cause them any problem; earth ponies, even foals, are quite a bit hardier than they have any right to be from a biological standpoint, and they’ll always be in perfect shape with him around anyhow.

“I’m sure it will work out, honey,” his dam assures him. “Being responsible for ponies’ taxes and all, she probably knows a lot more about ponies’ business than most do. There can’t be that many others that would have recognized you.”

“She would remember you either way,” Title agrees. “You did make quite the impression, after all. Hopefully you didn’t scare her too much.”

“I didn’t!” he insists. More subdued, he adds, “At least, I don’t think I did. Not intentionally. She kinda looked like she wanted to find a rock to crawl under when she left, though. In any other circumstances I would probably have cracked up seeing an adult mare, tail tucked and ears pinned flat, fleeing a foal like that.”

“I might stop by there,” the pink mare sighs. “I bet she’s absolutely panicking.”

“Dunno, babe,” Deed chimes in, “yer gonna be all but confirmin she were right if ya do. If she remembers the colt then I betchya she remembers you too, what with yer colors matchin and whatnot.”

“She already knows,” she argues. “There’s no sense letting her work herself into a tizzy over it. You don’t want the poor thing to have a heart attack or something. I’ll swing by on the way into the office.”

“Do you want me to come?” Cure asks.

“No. You being there will probably just scare her even more.”

“Yeah, maybe, I guess.”

“What about the Dough sisters?” Lemon asks. “You said they witnessed the whole thing.”

“Dough sisters?” he repeats, snout wrinkled in incredulity. “Their names are Dough?”

“Duh? Butter and Soft are the younger ones. Their dam, Stiff, owns the shop. Should I say something to them too?”

Cure can’t help but shake his head as he sighs, “A bunch of mares named Dough. Callin a girl that would normally get ya slapped, I’d bet.”

“Ain’t nothin wrong with a little dough, son,” his sire insists as he tosses a jelly-covered croissant in his mouth. “Yer ma’s are all fit as a fiddle now, but ya darn sure never heard a word ‘a complaint from yer old pa when that weren’t tha case.”

The colt smirks and asks, “So you’re saying you liked ‘em just as well when they had a little extra padding?”

“Sure thing, son. Lil extra fluff never hurt nopony.”

“Fluffy? Isn’t that just a nice way of callin somepony fat?” he muses.

The stallion freezes mid-nod and glances left, then right at all the stares now fixing him in place. He slowly raises both hooves in the air, croissant still sticking to his right. “Now that ain’t what I said. Don’t go puttin words in my mouth, colt. None ‘a these lovely ladies were anythin near what I’d call fat.” His eyes drift to Title and he opens his mouth, pausing when he notices her hoof suddenly resting on a butter knife set beside her plate. He glances between the knife and her deepening scowl before quickly averting his gaze back to his son. “Speakin ‘a the gals what make us lucky stallions, when are ya meetin up with yers?”

“Nice save,” Amethyst quietly chuckles.

“Noonish. Do y’all want me to bring something by the office afterwards? I can get a few to-go orders if you want.”

“Nah, ain’t no way yer ma’ll wait till one. ‘Sides, ain’t nothin there better’n what yer dam packs fer us anyhow.”

“Alright, fair enough. I’m startin to wonder if they even got my notes. Figured Dawn, at least, would Send me a message.”

“Why didn’t you get anything for the pegasi, honey?” his dam inquires.

Cure lazily whirls his empty, cake-smeared fork in the air as he explains, “You can’t really teleport stuff up to the clouds like that. They don’t move much, but they do drift enough I couldn’t be sure I could land anything in their house, let alone on their kitchen tables. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“OOH!” Title exclaims, waving her hoof frantically. “Teleport us some dessert! I want some chocolate cake. Just send it over when you’re done eating.”

“Chocolate cake?”

“Yeah! With chocolate frosting if they have it.”

“After you’ve had coffee cake?”

“This is breakfast,” she aptly points out, motioning to the remainder of said cake. “That’s lunch. They’re two separate things. I don’t think coffee cake even technically counts as cake. It’s more of a… ya know… bread. Kind of.” The argument gets a few chuckles from everypony else, but nopony speaks up to refute her point.

“I’m pretty sure they’re all made outta mostly the same stuff, ma, but sure… I’ll zap some cake over to your offices before I go. Three slices?” he asks, glancing between his mom and sire.

“Better make it four,” she insists with faux casualness. “Fair’s got a sweet tooth in her you wouldn’t believe.”

A strangled snort sounds out from his sire telling the colt exactly how likely their employee is to get a second slice before his mom claims it.

“Right,” he agrees, voice dripping with disbelief. “Let me know how it goes with Miss Audit, okay? And as far as the,” he pauses to chuckle, “Dough sisters, I think that’s a non-issue. They definitely remember a unicorn foal buying a boatload of breakfast stuff a few weeks back with similar colors, but I doubt they know that both of those were me. I’m probably just another earth pony to them.”

“An earth pony that runs around with a staff on his withers,” Amethyst argues. “One who’s the same age as his highness with a matchin mark and tosses around bits like nothin. Sure thing, colt,” she sarcastically quips, “ain’t no way they solved that puzzle.”

The colt huffs in annoyance but doesn’t bother arguing with her. “Whatever. They’re not worth worrying about. We need to go. My first customer is -err- should be on her way.”

The morning had been an exceedingly profitable affair thus far. A liposuction, tummy tuck, and skin tightening put the colt at fifteen hundred right off the bat. That’s soon followed by a pegasus couple wanting his-and-her wing enhancements (with matching patterns) for another forty-three hundred after the “couple’s discount” he typically gives to mates coming in together.

The next four customers weren’t big spenders, only netting him another couple grand between them. That’s fair given it only takes him a few minutes to clean up hooves, remove scars, smooth out coats, and tighten up some loose skin behind the legs, at the knees, and on their cheeks.

Add in a few tail lengthenings, a snout job, and some rump enhancing, and, with one morning customer left, Cure was mentally gearing up for lunch nearly seven thousand and nine hundred bits richer than he woke up (discounting forty for breakfast and Wind Shear’s referral fees).

According to the appointment slip his last one before lunch had signed up for some cosmetic work to her coat. The slip had a small “plus two” written in the notes section that was not entirely helpful. His question is set aside when the horns hidden between the walls pick up a mare, her husband, and two foals enter the shop, greet his mom, and make their way to the stairs.

Expecting a pair of earth ponies, Cure finds his guess only about three-quarters correct when they round the corner at the top of the landing. The stallion is, indeed, a typical earth pony with a light green coat not unlike his dam, but a dark brown mane combed up and to his right.

His assumed wife, however, appears to be a zebra, earth pony mix. The colt’s mind flashes back to Celestia’s talk about her half zebra lover and, he has to admit, the look is exotic. Rather than the typical zebra’s white or gray base, her coat is a light lavender color striped in a much deeper purple. Silly as it is, the first thing that comes to mind is the color of grape jelly. The dual-tone pattern also alternates all through her mane and down her tail.

The parents can’t be much over twenty and the son and daughter look to be about one and two years old respectively. Cure can only see their faces and a bit of their necks from where they peek around their parents, looking around the new environment with curious eyes. Though they inherited their dam’s striping, from what he can tell the contrast between primary and secondary colors is far less prominent.

“Good morning!” he chirps, extending a hoof in greeting to the stallion. “I’m Cure Wave, proprietor of BodyWorks Enterprises, where we specialize in helping you bring out the more perfect you. Mr. Chartreuse and Mrs. Kamili Sip, I presume?”

Mr. Sip steps closer to return the bump, nervously bobbing his head as he responds, “That’s us! We were told you’re young, but… Wow! Some serious muscles on ya, too, colt. Good on ya.”

His wife forces a smile as she approaches to bump Cure’s hoof, giving her husband’s left side a none-too-subtle jab with her knee and flashing him a quick glare along the way. “Hello, Cure. It’s nice to meet you,” she greets, notably devoid of any accent.

“The pleasure’s all mine! You are right, Mr. Sip. I am young, but I guarantee you won’t find anypony more capable than yours truly. Now, if you’ll follow me into my office, we can discuss what brought you here today and we’ll see what I can do for you.”

He leads the family around the divider and waits patiently while they arrange themselves around their foals. Once they’re situated he speaks up. “So the appointment card said you were interested in some coat alterations. Is that correct?”

“It is,” the mare confirms with a nod. “I don’t know if you’ve ever met anypony like me, but my dam is a zebra and my sire is an earth pony.”

She pauses, almost as if she’s waiting for the colt to react with shock or disgust. Instead, he bobs his head in casual acceptance and remarks, “I had assumed something along those lines. A mare I know told me about a pegasus stallion she dated who had a striped coat. I don’t recall his colors if she told me, but she said his coat was gorgeous. I have to say, the word barely does it justice, ma’am.”

“Told you,” her husband grumbles, reaching over to drape his left fetlock over her right.

The mare hangs her head and sighs. “It is not so simple. Don’t get me wrong - I have always loved my coat, but everywhere I go I am looked at as if I’m an outsider.” She meets his eyes and, voice full of emotion, says, “You cannot imagine how difficult it is to stand out so much. Everyponee expeects me to have un ac-ceent!” He can’t deny that the sudden change is jarring, and that he was surprised when she spoke like anypony else proves she’s right. “I was born and raised in Tampa Neigh, not Zebrabwe!

“Even more frustrating than how I’m treated here, I was completely ostracized when we visited my dam’s family. Everypony looked at me as if I had some kind of disease,” she all but spits the word out. “That, or as if I was some kind of exotic prize to conquer.”

“Honey,” Mr. Sip lightly calls, interrupting her rant. He motions to the colt with his muzzle as if to remind her that she’s talking to a young foal.

She winces in realization and blushes lightly at being called out. “Sorry.” Taking a a deep breath, she refocuses and begins, “As you may have guessed, I was hoping you could change my coat, along with that of our foals. My husband isn’t wholly on board,” she briefly gives him the side eye, “but agreed to at least see what you could do. My mane, my tail, my colors… I just want to be a normal pony!”

Cure gives her a few seconds to regain her composure. She didn’t quite shout the last bit, but with it being such a sensitive subject it was a near thing. Figuring he should play it safe, he activates the Sound Bubble effect and explains, “In case you felt that, I raised a privacy screen around the room so nopony outside can hear us.” Both nod in understanding with the mare once again flushing slightly at her outburst.

“For the record, I can alter your coat, your tail, whatever. Hay, you could walk out of here looking like a completely different pony. Same with your foals, of course. I do have to let the crown know when I significantly alter somepony’s appearance, so just a heads up there. I will do as you ask, if you’re sure,” he pauses and waits for them both to nod, even if he only really needs her approval for her own changes, “but I am not certain how that will play out with your foals’ coats as they age.”

The daughter, upon noticing the colt looking at her, waves a little forehoof and squeaks out a high-pitched, excited “Hi!”

“Hello to you, too, cutie pie!” he gushes. “You’re just ten thousand kinds of adorable, aren’t you?!”

The filly climbs over her parents’ forelegs to inspect the colt, pausing to scent the air. She follows her snout right to his foreleg and looks up in wonder. “Cookie?”

A barked laugh escapes him as he shakes his head no. He lays on his barrel, wrapping the girl in his forelegs. “I’m sorry, sweetness. I don’t have any cookies. If you’re good and your dam and sire say it’s okay I’ll ask my mom to give you a treat downstairs, but that’s just a cologne I invented.” She clearly doesn’t know the word, so he stoops down so she can get a better whiff of his mane. “No cookies, just me.”

“You ought’a sell that stuff,” the husband suggests. “Would make ya a mint.”

“I do sell plants with floral scented oils, but not perfumes directly, and no ‘stallion’ scents.” He shrugs and bobs his head, saying, “It’s not a bad idea,” as he snuggles the young girl to his chest. She settles in contently, pressing her muzzle into his chest fluff and inhaling deeply. “So anyhow, I’ve never tried to alter anypony’s coat permanently at such a young age.

“It may stick, but their stripes might also reappear, especially when they approach maturity. I don’t plan on retiring anytime soon, so it’s not like you, or they, couldn’t come see me again. I will remember you and them, and I won’t charge some exorbitant fee to re-do my work if needed. You have a couple decisions to make, though. The most obvious is your colors and pattern. Next, if you want to truly blend in as a completely typical pony…” he leaves the question hanging and looks to her expectantly.

“I do. My dam will be upset, but… we’ve talked. A lot. She understands, even if she isn’t thrilled.”

“Okay. Then you need to decide what you want your cosmetic only,” he emphasizes, “cutie mark to look like.” He glances down at the drowsy filly and asks, “Do you have any idea if they’ll get cutie marks?”

“They should,” their sire answers. “The doctors said that, just like hippogriffs, first generation foals won’t, but throw in another pony to the mix,” he pats his chest, “and their foals should.” The stallion’s snout scrunches in thought and he cocks his head slightly to the side. “Actually, I’m not sure if that does work with hippogriffs if they have a hippogriff foal.”

“I don’t think so,” Cure replies. “I’ve never seen anycreature that has a cutie mark that wasn’t born with four uncloven hooves, and I’m pretty sure donkeys or mules can't get them. I bet if a hippogriff has a pony then the pony can get one. How that works with other - and I mean no offense by the term - mixed races,” he shrugs, “I haven’t a clue. Either way, how about we look at some designs and find something you like? From there we just need to fill out some paperwork, then I’ll collect my fee, which will be far less than normal for them given their size, and I’ll have you on your way in no time at all.”

Unsurprisingly, Kamili had already put a great deal of thought into her and her foals’ future theoretical, and now actual, appearances.

Dawn arrived in Cure’s lobby just in time to see a completely typical looking, aside from the slightly slimmer mare, earth pony family exiting the colt’s office. Cure follows soon after, hopping up to join her on the couch while they wait for the others. With his much greater weight, he gently, but firmly, rolls the filly onto her back. He lays with his barrel half draped over her chest, his left foreleg behind her right, and his other resting under her crown so her horn isn’t jabbing into the furniture.

“Hello, beautiful,” he warmly greets, nuzzling against her right cheek. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?” he softly coos into her fuzzy ear.

The girl flushes in a brilliant blush that brings him immeasurable joy as she demurely nods. “Dam saw your note,” she faux grouses. “She woke me up waving it in my face before she left for work. The sun coming up with ‘Here’s to a lovely Sunrise’ written in the sky, Cure? Really?”

Despite her outward grumpiness, it’s plain as day that she couldn’t be happier with the unexpected attention, cheesy as it is. His grin nearly splits his muzzle as he settles more of his weight on her, teasing, “Aww, don’t be like that. She was probably just excited. I think the only way I’ll ever really win her over by spoiling ya rotten, ya know?”

“So you’re just using me to get to my dam, huh? She’s happily married, you know.”

Probably is much happier over the last week and a half, too, he considers.

He sits up and taps at his chin in thought. “Hmm… Now that you mention it, I suppose I do pay attention to older mares almost exclusively.”

Her left hind hoof thumps weakly against his hip as she shouts, “WHAT?!”

Voice dripping with innocence, he gives her a completely bewildered look and says, “Well me ‘n Heavy are the youngest of the gang, after all. All’a ya are anywhere from a half year to a year and a half older than us. Why? What did you think I meant?”

A doubtful look through narrowed eyes is her first response. After a few seconds she rolls her eyes and scoffs, laying back fully on his leg. “Whatever. You better not be chasing older mares.” She motions to the vacant stairs and says, “She looked really happy. I’m guessing it went well?”

“In a way, I guess. I won’t tell you what they wanted done, obviously, but I can’t say I would have done the same.” Her curious look prompts him to add, “Let’s just say she wanted her looks changed, hence her coming to me, but in my opinion she was friggin beautiful beforehoof. I can’t help but feel like I didn’t live up to my company’s motto, even if I gave her what she wanted. Other than that it’s been a good morning. Really, really good, in fact, even compared to normal.”

With one more quick nuzzle he sits up off of her and says, “Everypony else is here but Ferric and she’s meeting us at the restaurant. C’mon.”

It always fascinates Cure how ponies both figuratively and literally herd around a specific member of the group. He’d noticed the adults subconsciously forming a perimeter around Celestia several times, and whenever he has all of the fillies together they do the same thing to him. Dawn and Drift each claim a side on the short walk to Miller’s Diner with Rising and Glacial filing in to their left and right respectively, the closest two a half body length behind him and the further even so that, in a way, all four are ‘by his side.’ It’s not always the same pattern, but rarely does he ever see his sire without a mare either on his back, directly on his side, or sandwiched between two of them.

The sight of the five unaccompanied foals draws a few curious looks from other patrons grabbing a quick bite on their lunch break, but nopony raises a fuss when the well mannered herd quietly makes its way to a table, folds down the built-in boosters, and settles in to wait. Ferric only took a few moments longer to arrive, pausing to give her chest, forelegs, and face a good scrubbing in the washroom before hopping up between Rising and Glacial opposite the colt, sharing a subtle side-brush with one, then the other.

Seeing the girl initiate positive physical interactions, slight as they may be, fills the colt’s heart with warmth. “Thanks for the muffins and cocoa,” she quietly mumbles.

“You bet, Red. Did ya see my note?”

She bashfully nods, her ears pinking lightly as they flip back.

“Muffins?” Drift leans forward to ask. “What muffins?”

“He got us,” Rising answers, then looks across the table to Dawn, “and you, I’m guessing,” the orange filly nods, “breakfast. Dam was eating when they flashed onto the table, Cure. Maybe next time warn us? She said she almost broke the table diving away.”

“Uhh… oops?”

The filly rolls her eyes and adds, “It’s fine. Once she saw the note she skipped up the stairs to wake me up and show me.”

“That,” he inclines his muzzle to her, “is exactly why I didn’t warn you. I figured you buncha lazy-bones were still in bed. I bet Red was already up and moving, weren’t ya?”

“Mmhmm. I was coming down the stairs when I saw the flash.” Even across the table, Cure notes the slight sway in her posture from her happily swishing tail. “It was very sweet. Thank you.”

Rising leans right into the larger filly, nuzzling her shoulder as she asks, “What’d yours say? Mine said ‘Here’s hoping your day starts on a high note’ and had a little drawing of me playing my sax.”

Cure can’t help but notice the way Drift is staring daggers into his left side. He pretends not to notice, which isn’t easy when Glacial is quietly giggling as she watches her friend’s agitation grow.

The dark filly’s ears and cheeks glow in a ferocious blush as she studiously examines the table, desperate to avoid the colt’s gaze. “Mine didn’t say anything,” she nearly whispers. “It was just a drawing,” she clarifies, unzipping her little foreleg purse. She pulls out the folded note and passes it to her left.

Rising takes it, unfolds it, and giggle-squeals in joy. “OH. MY. STARS! So CUUUTE!”

Over shouted demands of “Let me see!” the note is passed from filly to filly, each one gushing as they look it over. The colt’s pretty proud of himself with that one. After a moment of failing to come up with anything name-related that was cute, wholesome, and affectionate without being too affectionate, he gave up on words and, instead, etched a black and white doodle of two little safety gear equipped earth pony Cures hammering away at a riveted steel heart while a third supervises their work wearing a hard hat, the blueprints in one hoof while he rubs his chin with the other.

When the drawing finally reaches Drift she drinks in every detail while quietly mumbling, “What the fuck?!” Her right wing unfurls, poking into his side with almost no force. “Where’s ours?!” she demands, waving the paper between herself and Glacial. Despite her aggressive tone, she at least has the presence of mind to be gentle on the note, even if he could reproduce it in seconds.

“He took us on a date, dummy!” Glacial immediately pounces, scolding the purple filly. “None of the rest of them got to do that.”

“Not only that, but I can’t teleport stuff up to the clouds since they’re not completely stationary. It wouldn’t do a lot of good if your breakfast landed on your roof, would it? I mean, I coulda flown ‘em up, but I still had to bring my folks their breakfast before they had to leave for work.”

“Oh.” She meekly nods in acceptance and mumbles a quick apology, passing the note across the table for Glacial to gush over.

“It’s okay,” he accepts, leaning to brush against her side, “I fully expected you to feel a little jilted. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could do about it. Keep in mind there’s five of you and one of me. I can’t always do every single thing for everypony. It’s just not possible. If anypony here has gotten the short end of the stick, it’s probably RP.”

All eyes land on the yellow filly, but before she has a chance to respond a waitress approaches the table. “Goodness, gracious, what have we here?” the chestnut mare calls out. “A cute lil herd takin their stallion ta lunch! Ain’t that just precious! What can I getchy’all?”

Conversation halts just long enough to place their orders. Once the mare dances her way back towards the kitchen, Cure reaches in his mane and retrieves a Sound Bubble, activating the crystal as he sets in the center of the table. “As I was saying, all I can do is try my best to be as fair as I can. Rising?”

“Hm?”

“We,” he motions between himself and the pegasi, “go flying together a lot. Dawn and I practice magic all the time. Me and Ferric play with different metals and went to my grandsire’s to practice hammers this weekend, which’ll be a recurring thing, I hope.” The dark filly eagerly nods. “Is there anything coming up that me and you can do together? I’m not huge on music, but if there’s anythin-”

“There’s a concert!” she excitedly interrupts. “The Baltimare Philharmonia Orchestra has a concert every October. Maybe we could go?”

The idea sounds truly dreadful, but it’s only fair that he at least make an effort to treat each filly as fairly as he can.

“Okay. Would you prefer to go with me or with ‘his highness’ instead?”

She tilts her head in confusion. “I thought you only wanted to do that to show us what it would be like.”

“I did, and now you’ll be forewarned as to what to expect. Photographers, newsponies, guards, etcetera. Of course, as a member of royalty, we would get the royal treatment. I may have a harder time getting good seats as myself. Keep in mind, both my parents and your dam would have to say it’s okay, and if we’re not taking a parent along then I can always hire a private guard escort from my great grandsire’s company.”

“I’ll talk to my dam. Can I let you know tomorrow?”

“Sure. I don’t know when those things sell out, so keep that in mind.”

“What about you?” Ferric asks. He cocks a brow at the dark filly and she elaborates, “Is there something you want to do together?”

The colt scoffs, shaking his head no. “I do what I want all the freakin time. It’s sweet of you to ask, but you don’t need to worry about me, Red. I don’t think I’ve really earned it, but I’m damn near the entire nation’s golden colt. If there’s ever anything I want to do I’m sure I only need to ask and everypony will probably trample each other in a rush to make it happen.”

Despite the statement, minus its preface, sounding exceedingly entitled, none of the fillies can come up with a way to refute it. For most desires, little more than a passing comment escaping his lips is all that it would take to turn them into reality, whether he truly intended it or not.

Without pausing to give them time to respond, he continues, “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I didn’t invite Heavy, DC, and Saph along today.” Ferric and Rising both nod, but the rest seem mostly indifferent about their inclusion. “That’s because I want to check with you all first about an event that’s coming up. Celestia puts together this fancy party every year-”

He’s cut off by a mane-tugging gasp. “THE GRAND GALLOPING GALA?!” Rising stands on her hind legs to shout, blushing when the rest of the foals all look at her in shock. She collapses back in her seat shrinking in embarrassment.

“... yeah,” he sighs. “That. She hasn’t said anything yet, and I’m fine skipping the whole thing, but I didn’t want to wait until two days before the event and suddenly find out you’re all dying to go.” Motion out of the corner of his eye draws Cure’s attention. He holds up a hoof to pause the discussion when the waitress approaches with their drinks.

She freezes and goes wide-eyed when she steps through the Sound Bubble, either because she felt the slight, but noticeable tingle on her coat, or because of the immediate change in ambient noise. Her eyes fall on the crystal and she lets out a thoughtful grunt. “That thar seems right useful iff’n yer wantin ta have a quiet conversation, ain’t it?”

“Sure is,” he agrees. “It’s not too noisy in here right now, but it’s really hard for us foals to talk loud enough ta be heard over all the adults, ya know?”

“Ah,” she mumbles, bobbing her head in understanding. She glances to the sole unicorn at the table and gives her an impressed look as she passes out the drinks. “Smart thinkin, then, little filly. Y’all sure come up with some useful stuff, dontchya?”

Dawn opens her mouth to respond but doesn’t get the chance. “They sure do!” he agrees, wrapping a foreleg around the filly to pull her against his side. “My little Sunrise is gonna be the best mage in Equestria some day, I tell ya what. My own little Princess of Fire!” he boastfully declares.

The mare giggles and slides the tray onto her back as she turns, calling, “Good on ya, girl!” as she leaves the privacy screen.

“You are such a dork,” Drift snorts. “My own little Princess of Fire,” she teasingly mocks in a poor imitation of his barely deeper voice. Cure accepts it easily enough. It was more than a little cringeworthy, but it was also probably the quickest way to get rid of the mare.

“You should have let me tell her,” Dawn grumbles, bumping him with her hip.

“There isn’t anything wrong with lettin folks think what they want to think, babe. Usually, at least.” He grabs his glass and takes a swig of water before he continues, “So as I was saying, before I even consider bringing the whole Gala topic up to the others, I wanted to check with you five first. Dunno ‘bout DC, but it doesn’t seem like Saph’s kind of thing and I know Heavy wouldn’t be interested. What are your thoughts?”

“What’s it like?” Glacial asks. “I mean, really like?”

Cure shrugs and explains, “I’ve obviously never been, but my understanding is that it’s the elite of the elite all coming together in one place to sniff their own and each others’ farts to determine their ranking on volume, tone, duration, and flavor. Presumably with bonus points for artistic ability if you can carry a tune.” The line is delivered devoid of inflection and completely matter-of-factly, causing each filly to mentally replay it to ensure that what they thought they heard is what he really said.

Drift bursts out laughing, flopping against his side as she cackles uncontrollably. Dawn and Glacial share a disappointed look from opposite corners of the table, each one sighing and shaking their heads despondently. Ferric freezes, though a single strangled laugh escapes her before she clamps down on it before blushing madly.

Rising looks like she just witnessed a bunny rabbit being butchered for meat by a particularly clumsy griffon. The abject horror from the slack-jawed filly at her coltfriend’s deadpanned analysis is plain for all to see.

“Cure,” Dawn calls in a scolding tone. “That’s disgusting! Why do you have to be so… so…”

“Gross!” Rising finishes. “What the hay, Cure?!”

“Look, it really is just a big ego-measuring contest. She hasn’t directly said it, but I can tell Celestia dreads going to the thing every year. It’s tradition, though. I’m perfectly happy skipping it until I’m absolutely obligated to make an appearance, and even then I’ll be looking to make my escape at the very first opportunity that presents itself.

“The only ponies I’ll know are the boss lady, the Bluebloods, some of the guards, and the palace staff. Celestia will be busy the whole time, I’ve only met the Bluebloods a few times, even if they seem okay, and the others will all be on the clock.

“If Prince Serpentus goes then everypony that wants a piece of him for whatever reason is going to make it a priority to try their luck. Or they’ll do their best to dig for something they can use against me. Probably both. Either way, I’d much rather spend the entire evening ramming my head into the Canterhorn, or any other unyielding surface, at roughly the speed of sound. There’s a good chance I’ll end up with less brain damage, and a much smaller risk of me getting annoyed enough to hurt somepony.”

Rising sulks, almost tearfully commenting, “You really know how to remove the shine from something, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry, RP. Really, I am, but I’m also pretty confident I’m not far from the truth. Tell me what it is about the whole thing that you’re enamored with. Is it the dancing? The pageantry? The food? You won’t know anypony there, and I’m assuming you’re not wanting to go for the open bar.”

That earns another snorted laugh from Drift.

Her ears fold back as she admits, “I don’t know what that means. What’s an open bar?”

“Free drinks,” Dawn answers. Quizzical looks are cast in her direction and she explains, “Daddy said they had one at their wedding. He said it didn’t go well because somepony got drunk and ruined it.”

“He told me about that. As hilarious as it would be, I don’t see anypony getting totally smashed at the princess’s shindig,” Cure points out. Not unless I spike the fuck out of the punch, which might make the whole thing bearable. “Seriously, though, what part of the triple-G were you looking forward to?”

“Dancing?” she hesitantly asks. More confidently, she continues, “The music, the glamor, seeing the castle all decorated up, meeting the princess again. The idea of getting a really pretty dress and being seen by everypony.” She sighs wistfully, smiling serenely and staring into the distance as if caught in a wonderful dream. “It just sounds so wonderful,” she breathily admits.

The other fillies look on with interest, clearly imagining themselves climbing out of a carriage just as she had.

Fuck! Fuckity Fuck Fuck DOUBLE MOTHER QUADLASER FUCK!

Internal tantrum tightly contained, Cure leadingly says, “If it really means that much to you…”

“REALLY?!” she squeals, reaching frequencies that even a bat would struggle to attain. Cure’s eyes briefly flick down to the glassware to check for cracks, only slightly surprised when he finds everything intact. A quick check of the Sound Bubble shows that, despite her efforts, it remains active as well.

“In disguise,” he strongly emphasizes, “but yes. If our folks approve, we could ask. Assuming you’re certain you want to go. Once we commit, we’re committed. Prince Serpentus can’t say yes then not show up.”

Not trusting her voice to answer, Rising energetically nods, brushing tears off her cheeks as she sniffs back the looming tide.

“Okay. What about the rest of you?”

“After the way you described it?!” Drift incredulously asks. “No way. That sounds awful.”

“The dancing was fun,” Glacial comments. “I’d really like to do that again. Maybe not at something like that, but…”

“We don’t have to go to the Gala to dance, babe. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities, many of which won’t have the social pressure that this whole thing will.” He turns back to Rising and asks, “Do you even know how to dance?”

“Yes!” she explosively replies. She wilts slightly and more sedately clarifies, “A little. I’m okay, but… I haven’t ever really danced before.”

Cure sighs and says, “You do realize that if you step out onto the dance floor with his highness, then. Every. Single. Eye. will be watching everything you do.” He holds his hooves up in placation and quickly assures her, “I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I just don’t want you to be caught unprepared. The princess, the members of the nobility, foreign ambassadors, the rich and elite from across the nation, the photographers… I mean the whole world will watch and, to different degrees, will scrutinize every little thing. You do realize that, right?” he repeats.

“I don’t know, Rising,” Dawn timidly speaks up. “He’s right. It would be different if it wasn’t his first Gala, or if ponies were more used to seeing him in the capital, but being Prince Serpentus’ date on his first Grand Galloping Gala ever?” She frowns deeply and shakes her head no. “That sounds terrifying, even if I was in disguise. Even if I was a great dancer.”

“Dancing skill isn’t a huge problem. I can help with that. It’s the pressure of everypony’s attention. I had considered asking Misty Twilight to next year’s just so my first one would be out of the way,” he explains. “That’s Blueblood’s youngest, and no, before you all can make assumptions, there’s nothing between us.”

He can tell that the quick assurance was a good idea when a look of relief passes over them. “She’s been raised in that environment, and publicly, she and Prince Serpentus barely know each other. That’s a whole lot less pressure, and it’s on somepony that is more equipped to deal with it. She has, after all, been royalty her whole life.”

“She is?” Ferric asks. “I thought the title…” she trails off when Cure shakes his head no.

“No, she isn’t really a princess. She is in line for the crown if something happened to her two older siblings, but she’s unlikely to ever be a princess at all. Blueblood Junior will be a prince when Senior passes him the title. That is to say only a Prince, whereas I am the Grand Prince and Celestia is the High Princess. Still, she is the daughter of royalty, so saying she is, also, isn’t completely wrong.”

All five of them have consciously known for a while that Cure is an alicorn prince. They’ve known that he is functionally second in line for the throne since Celestia had him take his oaths. To have it all spelled out to them; to have him explain out loud that he sits only one step below the mare that might as well be their goddess… it gives them all pause as they once again consider all the implications of that. Sure, they’re sitting down to lunch with their friend and more-or-less coltfriend, but at the same time, that friend is a budding immortal deity. And they are at the top of the list of his potential future wives; future princesses, of a sort, themselves.

He instantly picks up on the abrupt shift in their demeanors, and does his best to reassure them. “Hey… I’m still just Cure, ya know. I’m just saying that Misty or her sister, Azure Tiara, while a couple years older than me, could break the ice by being my first Gala date. It would mean less pressure on anypony else in the future. The elder may be better, even, since then it would be all the more clear that we’re going as friends instead of dating.”

“This political crap is a pain,” Drift complains. “Whatever, I don’t care. I don’t want to go. Maybe in the future we can try it, but it sounds awful for now.”

“I wouldn’t mind going sometime,” Ferric agrees. “Not now, but maybe in a few years?”

“Same here,” Glacial agrees. She leans forward and looks past Ferric, saying, “If you want to go and you want somepony to come with you, I could ask my parents if it’s alright. Having somepony else with you will make it a lot better, I think.”

“A good point,” Cure agrees. He looks to his right and cocks a brow in question.

“I was thinking the same thing. I’ll go with, but I’m not dancing at all. No way. Everything else sounds like it would be fun to try, though. I would love to see the castle when it’s decorated for Hearth’s Warming… I bet it’s amazing.”

Rising shifts back and forth on her forehooves under the collective stare of the others. Her snout is scrunched in an ugly frown and her ears are pinned flat to her head. “Fine!” she growls, shifting her weight as if she is stomping on her seat, but not actually moving more than her barrel. A single hoof rises and jabs in the colt’s direction. “But you will take me eventually!” she demands.

“Umm… I always intended to if you want?” he defensively argues. “Hay, I’ll take ya this year if everypony’s fine with it. Don’t go actin like I said no, ‘cause that’s not fair.”

The filly deflates like a punctured balloon, flopping halfway on the table while whining, “You could at least pretend to let me blame you!” Ferric reaches over and rubs the fallen girl’s back in small, comforting circles.

“If you just want some dancing and stuff there’s always the hospital’s Hearth’s Warming party if you’re cool going with Serpentus. No fancy dresses, but logistically and politically it’s a whole lot less complicated, or I could get tickets to the Golden Hills one if you want, and I don’t even need to go as ‘his highness.’ Last year’s was pretty meh, but… it’s an option.”

“You also got in trouble for threatening an older colt,” Dawn reminds him.

Curious exclamations sound out from the other foals at this new revelation.

Cure twists his entire body to fully face the unicorn. “Where in the flaming hay did you hear that?!”

The filly crosses her forelegs over her chest and gives him a challenging look. “Well it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Strictly speaking, yes, but that’s completely lacking context. I don’t remember telling you about it, though.”

She gives him a sly smile and says, “I have my sources.”

“Gee,” he exaggerates rolling his eyes, “I wonder who it could have possibly been? It’s not like your dam works at the hospital or anything.” He pauses and furrows his brows in thought. “She shouldn’t know, though. That’s private Creature Resources info, and that happened here, not at the main hospital’s party.”

She turns and pokes his chest with her hoof, insisting, “My dam didn’t tell me! I’ve sold crystals to lots of ponies all over Golden Hills and Baltimare. Ponies talk.”

“Yeah, but nopony should know who I even was.”

“They don’t. That doesn’t mean rumors about a blue earth pony colt bending a steel bar into a pretzel and threatening to beat up another colt with it didn’t get around. Once daddy mentioned we’re from Golden Hills and they realized he’s a guard they couldn’t help but ask if the rumors were true.”

He huffs in annoyance and turns away. “Whatever.”

“What did happen?” Glacial inquires. “You said it’s lacking context, well…” she holds out a hoof inviting him to explain.

“I asked to play shoe toss with some older foals. The colt was a total prick. He told me to fuck off even though I was being polite. Keep in mind, this was only a few hours after our,” he tilts his head to Drift, “little spat, so I wasn’t in the mood for it. I yanked the little goal post out of one of the shoe toss boards and bent it in half, then straightened it back out. Those things aren’t exactly top quality steel, ya know? I never threatened him at all, and I even paid for the replacement.”

“I was just teasing,” Dawn insists, leaning to press against his side. “Don’t be upset?” she asks, voice full of hope and regret.

“I’m not!” he growls, fooling nopony. “It’s just that this moron from CR whose horn I had fixed ambushed me with that cow manure on the same day I was giving the hospital my Origin Cell Trees, and rather than fight it, my sire made me sign the stupid form accepting fault for the conflict.

“The whole thing from start to finish was crap and even Dr. Care was furious over it. I’m not thrilled to hear somepony’s runnin their stupid mouth about it when they don’t even know what happened, especially when it was supposed to be addressed privately instead of being whispered about across the entire fucking city!”

He feels her forelegs wrap around him in a hug, not even fully reaching around his much larger barrel. Another set, along with wings, soon joins, taking all of the wind out of his sails completely. The three on the opposite side of the table look relieved when he visibly calms, each one releasing their held breath.

“Easy, Cure,” Drift, he’s surprised to find, calls in a soft voice. “We don’t need you going all… whatever the hay that was.”

“Whatever what was?!”

“Your mane,” Ferric softly answers.

“It was getting all flowy,” Glacial clarifies, “and your eyes lit up a little.”

“It was kind of pretty,” Rising adds. “It was like… a field of tall grass swaying in the wind.”

Panic grips the colt as he looks around, relieved immeasurably to see nopony staring in their direction. Glacial clues in immediately, soothingly insisting, “Nopony was watching. I checked.”

The warm embraces abruptly stop when the waitress approaches, a tray laden with food on her back. “Aww! So cuuute!” she loudly coos. “Always melts mah heart ta see young love. Sorry ta interrupt ya, girls, but I’ll be outta yer manes lickity-split! Now which one of y’all had the asparagus pasta?”

Cure swaps the nearly depleted crystal for a charged one as the waitress passes out the food. He reactivates it the moment she departs. “Sorry about that, everypony. The boss lady said I have to keep my temper in check now. It’s still a work in progress, obviously.”

“What’s that do?” Drift asks, motioning to his mane.

“Nothing? Look neat? It shouldn’t do anything, though. Alicorns just have to keep a lid on their emotions a bit better.”

“Uh huh. Or you what… blast the moon?”

“I… don’t know?” he honestly answers. “I mean, Celestia moves the moon with a ritual, but I don’t know if she could actually shoot far enough to hit it just by herself. I damn sure can’t.” His mind flashes to a scene from the show where a newborn alicorn blasts clean through palace walls. “I think, at least. Can’t say I’ve considered trying. I was just annoyed. It’s not like I was gonna start firing away. I don’t even have my horn out.”

“She’s talking about the mare on the moon,” Glacial points out. She shoots a glare across the table and reminds Drift, “He said he can’t tell you anything, so stop asking!” That, of course, leads to a retelling of previous conversations he’d shared with the pegasi on the subject, all the while the rest quietly eat their lunch. Even while doing the majority of the talking, the colt manages to finish his meal at about the same time they do.

The waitress soon arrives again, this time with the desserts they’d ordered, along with four large pieces of cake. As soon as nopony is watching, Cure withdraws a smaller version of his staff from under a hidden wing, teleports the cake away, and digs into his dessert.

The six sit in a post-meal fog, Cure quietly sipping on a coffee with a filly pressed on either side. The other side of the table is a near duplicate, with Ferric polishing off a glass of milk, Glacial and Rising resting heavily against the larger girl.

“I only have a couple customers left. If y’all want, you can come to the shop and take a nap in the little bedroom behind my office. I’ll come join ya for a little bit after, then we,” he looks to the pegasi, “can go to my house and do some weather stuff if you’re still game. I could make y’all dinner if ya want to hang out the rest of the day.”

A jaw-splitting yawn escapes Glacial. She placidly nods, nuzzling her cheek against Ferric’s neck. The others soon follow suit, voicing their agreement as well. It only takes a moment to get the waitress’ attention and pay the bill before he’s in the middle of a sleepy filly parade headed back to his shop.

“So, I take it everything is going pretty well?”

Crowned nods so hard Cure’s almost worried he’ll hurt himself. “Sweet Celestia! Like you wouldn’t believe! I’ve made so many friends and met so many new ponies! I’ve even noticed more ponies coming into my shop. Did you see the article in the paper?!”

“I did. I have to say, I really do appreciate the advertising, Mr. Piece. My dam even cut the article out and stuck it in a scrapbook for me. It’s not every day I get mentioned in a big-name newspaper, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

The stallion leans forward and rests a hoof on Cure’s shoulder, meeting his eyes and, with the utmost sincerity, says, “You absolutely deserve it. This,” he motions to himself, “has changed my whole life! I never knew having a horn was so amazing!”

“I bet wings are just as fun,” Cure lightly muses.

“Oh, definitely! But this is way better than I ever expected.” The pegasus pauses and seems to concentrate, staring at the fountain pen sitting on Cure’s desk. A turquoise aura engulfs it and it floats unsteadily in the air, slowly but surely making its way to the stallion’s waiting hoof.

Dumbstruck, the colt can only stare on with his jaw hanging open. A drawn-out “uhhhhhh” falling from his muzzle.

“I KNOW!” Crowned exclaims, waving the pen in the air. “Isn’t it AMAZING! I haven’t told anypony else, but one of my friends is a unicorn. I was making him breakfast the other day and he made a silly little comment about learning how to use it. ‘Well that’s just ridiculous!’ I insisted, explaining how you said I wouldn’t be able to use magic.

“Sharp, the little genius that he is, was all, ‘You might not be able to cast spells, but I bet you can lift stuff. I’ll show you how!’ Well, I’ll tell you, little mister, that magnificent stallion was right! Only a short hour later I picked up my very first bit with this horn, and stars and sun! My life hasn’t been the same since!”

Celestia is going to frown. I foresee an abundance of disappointed alicorn frowns in my near future.

“That’s… amazing! Yeah, amazing is the right word. I suppose I hadn’t considered that being a possibility.”

Why didn’t I? Perfect Hire’s horn was fucked up and she could lift stuff. I wonder if Sonic could have with a little training.

“You should give yourself one, too! I know earth ponies are super strong and can grab things easier, but I can’t tell you how useful this little guy is. It’s nowhere near as strong as Sharpie’s is, but that’s okay! I never expected to be able to do this at all!”

“I’ll consider it. I think my dam would freak out if I came home with a horn all of the sudden.”

“Oof! True. I suppose some ponies aren’t always very accepting. I know my parents weren’t at first,” he grumps.

Cure raises a single hoof. “I have a concern.”

“Hmm?”

Cure points to the stallion’s horn. “I’m a little worried what would happen if word got out that I could do that, even if it isn’t as strong as the real thing.”

Crowned dismisses the concern with a lazy flick of his wing. “Oh don’t you worry about it at all, little mister. I thought the same thing myself. Goodness! Can you imagine if the griffons or the zebras found out? I bet they would be breaking down your door for horns themselves!”

Cure gives the stallion an evaluating look. It could be that he’s just theorizing, but a small part of the colt’s mind is whispering that this could be an attempt to subtly blackmail him. The pegasus’ body language doesn’t read as threatening in any way at all; if anything, he seems genuinely excited. No, he decides, there’s no way he would let me put him under and mess with his body if he’s trying to blackmail me.

“That’s a huge relief. I can’t even imagine a bunch of guards suddenly showing up at my shop wanting to know why I’m giving working horns to everypony.”

“I don’t think that’s illegal,” Crowned voices, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“I dunno, but I bet the unicorns wouldn’t be happy either way.” He heaves a sigh and motions to the couch. “So, any chance I could convince you to stay the way you are?”

Crowned shakes his head no as he climbs up and lays on his barrel. “No way!”

“Alright. This shouldn’t take too long. I’m pretty confident I can finish you up today. When you wake back up you’ll look about as close to his highness as you can without me messing with your noggin too much. You ready?”

Cure feels like he can somewhat sympathize with Comet, the maybe-future-coltfriend that Celestia had nearly caused to crash with an unfortunately timed Sending. Receiving a message isn’t physically jarring, but feeling the ethereal connection click “on” before the contents are relayed is a little distracting even under the best of circumstances.

He’s more than happy to forgive and forget this time, especially given the reason he’s receiving it.

<< Awesome! Do you have it with you? >>

<< I do. Are you coming after work to pick it up? >>

<< Actually, you’re not very far away. Can you step outside with it? >>

Several blocks over, directly in front of Midnight’s store, a large branch in an unassuming tree splits off from the whole. The wood’s surface begins changing, altering itself to the same material as a horn, hidden from sight by the canopy of leaves surrounding it.

<< I… suppose? Are you able to teleport it from so far away without knowing exactly where it is? I thought that only worked with things that aren’t moving. >>

<< You’d be correct if I was a unicorn. Don’t worry - I’ll get it. >>

<< Very well. One moment, please. >>

Cure pauses his work, focusing instead on the aura being emitted from the distant horn. It’s too far away to use it to cast from the spell, but that isn’t a problem; he can cast the spell from where he is, so long as the precise targeting information is available to him.

He watches with eager anticipation as the door swings open and the light purple mare pokes her head outside. She looks around as if expecting him to hop out from around the corner, then pushes the rest of the way out. A small, plain, wooden box is sitting on her withers.

<< Okay, I’ve got it, Mrs. Gem. Try to stand still for a second and I’ll cast the spell. >>

He catches the motion from her needlessly lifting her crystal in a hoof. << Okay, Cure. I have to say, this is one of the more unusual, and quickest, deliveries I have ever made. >>

<< I bet, and I truly do appreciate your discretion. Do not hesitate to reach out if there’s anything I can do to repay you. I’m all set here. Going in three… two… one. >>

Even knowing it’s coming, the mare still startles slightly when the box flashes off of her back. Several ponies passing by stop and look in her direction. Cure doesn’t have auditory sensors in place to catch what she tells them, but it seems to work as they continue on their way seemingly unbothered.

<< I’ve got it. Thanks, Mrs. Gem! You’re the best! I’ll be buying at least a kilo of raw silver from you soon too, so just a heads up. >>

<< You’re welcome, Cure. I’ll go ahead and order some in. Ta ta! >>

She ducks back in the shop, the closing door blocking his aura from continuing its observation. Keratin melts back into wood, rejoining the separated branch with nopony the wiser, all the while the blue colt all but dances with glee, rushing to finish his last customer of the day.

“This… is a whole lot more involved than I expected,” Cure sincerely comments. “I figured this would be more intuitive… not,” he waves a hoof at the assortment of mostly monochromatic cloud puffs before him, “all this.”

With the other fillies piled on and around him, he fights against the nagging distraction that is his newly acquired golden tube to maintain his focus on Glacial’s lecture. The filly had taken his request for tutoring to heart, soliciting her sire for assistance. Rain, in turn, sought and obtained his manager’s approval to tear off a small piece of several different types of clouds the weather team had in stock. The story, apparently, is that his daughter asked to tutor her coltfriend who missed out on much of his education due to his parents both being earth ponies and is rushing to learn what he can before school restarts.

The deception without outright lying raises Cure’s opinion of the stallion considerably. Dishonest as it may be, it’s the very same tactic he would have used if he were in the same position. The only potential failure point would have been if the manager took it upon herself to visit the colt in pony, but that doesn’t seem likely to happen now.

“It is intuitive once you’ve memorized what kind of effects each cloud type can produce, along with the defining characteristics that will allow you to identify them properly,” she unhelpfully explains. “Take this one, for example,” she says, holding up a cloud that, for the most part, looks like any other. She moves closer, grabs his hoof, turns it over, and sets the cloud against his frog. “Feel the flow of moisture in it. The way it roils and rumbles, waiting to be released. You should be able to sense it pretty easily.”

“I do feel something,” he agrees. “It’s like… I dunno, there’s a pressure built up. A pushing, kind of. Like if you could somehow feel a balloon that’s ready to burst.”

He pauses when Rising reaches over to touch it, but her fetlock passes through as if it’s not there at all. She shrugs and says, “It just feels a little chilly on my coat.”

“You won’t be able to do anything since you’re not a pegasus,” Glacial patiently explains. She nods to Cure and says, “That’s exactly right. Each kind of cloud will feel different. We’re supposed to go to the weather factory this coming school year to see how they make the most common ones. Rain and snow, mostly, since they’re so similar, but also some of the special ones the Guard keeps under lock and key.”

“Like… storm clouds?”

“Probably. I doubt they’ll show us the crazier stuff. They have ones for whirlwinds that can sweep ponies off their hooves and clouds that can drop huge balls of ice. Some of that stuff is kind of scary.”

“Interesting,” he comments. “So what type of cloud is this little guy?”

“That’s a mid-level aquaphorous nimbostratus. That’s what the weather factory distributes for typical rain production. It should be very easy to coax water out of, even for a beginner.”

“Okay… I’m not gonna, like, blast anypony with lightning am I?”

Drift, sprawled out on her own solid white cloud overhead, giggles at the question. “Not with that little thing! Even a high-level volatile cumuloniumbus that size would only hurt a little. You might get your hoof wet, that’s all.”

“Ah. And a volatile colon… nimbus… thing?”

“Cyoo. Myou. Low. Nim. Bus,” Glacial slowly enunciates.

“Right! That’s exactly what I said. Which of these is that thing?”

“She wouldn’t bring that into your house, Cure,” Drift remarks from above.

“She’s right,” Glacial agrees. “It would be highly irresponsible. Especially with you being an alicorn.”

“Oh. That matters?”

She scoffs and shakes her head. “I have no idea. You have a lot more magic than a pegasus. Either way, I don’t want to find out inside your living room. Really, we should be doing this outside, just in case.”

“Eh, a little water won’t hurt anything. I mean, how much can this little poof,” he holds the grapefruit-sized cloud up, “possibly have inside it?”

Drift rolls over and peeks over the edge of the cloud, eyes dancing with mirth. “Go ahead and pour some magic in it and find out.” Cure can’t help but notice she’s closed her membranes. Still, he will readily admit that he’s curious what would happen if he went hog-wild.

“That’s probably not a good idea. It only takes a little to-”

An eruption of water blasts out in all directions, dissipating the entirety of the cloud’s ethereal form in an instant.

“- set it off,” Glacial finishes with a sigh that’s completely overshadowed by the uproarious laughter from above and the whining complaints from everypony else.

“Huh,” he grunts, wiping the water from his eyes with his foreleg. “That was kinda awesome. What else ya got?”

The platinum filly growls, shaking the water from her mane and flicking some off her wings. She stalks over to the collection of cloud chunks and reaches in her saddlebags, withdrawing a two centimeter thick book and throwing it in his direction.

He easily snags it out of the air and turns it over. “Meteormancy Basics,” he reads aloud, nodding in acceptance. “Yeah… this may have been the better starting point. I’ll make sure I commit as much of it to memory as I can. Wanna maybe pick this up when I get back in a few weeks?”

“That may be best,” she stiffly agrees.

As much as he enjoyed the day spent with the fillies, Cure couldn’t wait to have a little alone time to work on his project. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just disappear on everypony right away, so it wasn’t until they had worn themselves out and fallen asleep that he could finally get started.

Laid on his right side, the colt’s left wing is spread down over top of his sisters to blanket the pair. His right foreleg runs down Lotus’ back with her crown and mane wedged tightly into his legpit. Cherry’s rump is barely a hoof from her sister’s chest as she lays on her left side, her neck craned in a way only a foal can comfortably pull off so her head is resting on the outside of his left thigh. A thick vine protrudes from the wall, linking him into his plant network.

In his workroom just below the sleeping foals, the golden tube is protectively immersed, both internally and externally, in a thick mold of alicorn skeletal material. A microscopic gap forms exactly two millimeters from the edge of the mold. A long, fine-toothed ceramic saw descends in the gap and begins rapidly sliding back and forth, slowly but surely severing the small portion off the end. As much as Cure would like to use Transmutation to atomically separate the piece, he simply does not know what impact that may have on the metal. The last thing he wants to do is contaminate the entire sample before the ritual.

When the cut finishes, the remainder of the tube protectively retracts underground and the newly made ring is lifted away. A very fine file carefully cleans the edges and buffs away any minor imperfection, pausing frequently for it to be encased in living matter, whereupon it is meticulously scanned to confirm its smoothness and polish.

Once properly prepared, the ring is levitated slowly, methodically, and gently placed onto a flat, sterile ceramic platform. The discarded gold dust is gathered and stored in case he finds a use for it later.

Shallow channels form on the surface of the platform. First, a large circle is etched around the ring, followed by a six-pointed star inside it. An additional six rays, smaller than the first set, form protruding from the original’s corners, overshadowed by the larger shape. Symbols fill the space between the stars and the circle’s edge to describe the physical act of splitting and the conceptual act of rejoining a single object, and to guide the investment of a physical object’s properties within another. Within the stars’ boundaries are the etchings necessary to connect two points in space, provide a channel for magical power, and set conditions under which the spell is aborted.

With the diagram in place, five mid-low crystals settle into position; one approximately at each corner, and a fifth slightly lower than center to the left, each set into a facet surrounded by empty channels. Arteries approach from all sides, slowly filling the channels with crystal dust-mixed blood before retracting. A single mid-quality crystal settles directly on top of the ring itself, and a final line is drawn overtop to finish the last of the connections.

A horn extends from the ceiling above and performs a final scan. With all preparations made, power begins to build until it reaches a crescendo, blasting down to activate the inscription. The cylinder of pure magical power continues unleashing its fury for exactly sixty seconds, then abruptly ceases.

What was one is now two halves of a still connected whole, one stacked atop the other; a joined pair of rings with the lines and swirls of blood consumed and transferred, etched directly onto their surfaces in crimson lines. The storage and conductivity of the sacrificed crystals are now imbued into the final product.

Almost reverently, stalks extend and grasp the outside edges of the rings. The platform is cleaned and left in place for future use.

The rings are separated, placed at opposite ends of the room; one near the east wall and the other at the west. A trickle of power flows through the plant to the east ring, filling the magical capacitor slowly. A soft brown glow creeps in from the outer ring, saturating the etched-in channels as it approaches and fills the drawings along the interior of the ring.

The exact opposite process occurs on the other side of the room. Devoid of power flowing through the vines, the diagram along the interior edge of the ring begins to shine. It takes only seconds for the process to complete and, from one instant to the next, a disc noiselessly blinks into existence in the interior of both rings projecting the view from their opposite.

The tiniest sliver of power continues to flow from east to west as the colt extends eyestalks to observe his creation from every angle. As far as he can tell, the portals’ surfaces have no depth at all, or at least none he is capable of measuring. Rather than sitting at the entrances or the centers of the rings, the portal exists in the shallow channel at the exact spot where the two original’s halves were split.

He waits a full minute before taking further action. Reasonably sure that neither will suddenly explode, a single tendril reaches out, piercing the surface of the east ring and exiting out the west. The effect is instantaneous; there is no discernable space from one side to the next. Even individual cells, until they cross the portal’s boundary entirely, feel as if they are partially in two places at once.

A stalk moves to check the opposite side of each ring, finding a circle of absolute blackness. The book had mentioned that early versions of the ritual did not include the safety mechanisms; the tendril that touches the back of the portal merely glances off the protective shield rather than being atomically discorporated. A slight push causes the ring’s glyphs to glow warm and the power draw to increase, prompting the colt to stop, lest he risk ruining his work.

The tendrils withdraw and the portal ceases, only to reactivate originating from the west ring instead. A new tendril poking through confirms that the connection’s origin and termination do not functionally matter. Power cuts off once again, violently ejecting the tendril back through the east ring.

He repeats the test, this time extending several meters of tendril through before deactivating it. The stored energy in the ring makes a noble attempt to eject the whole, blasting it out like some kind of noodle cannon, but eventually runs out, cleanly severing the tendril, rupturing the partially transported cells at the discs’ surfaces, and spraying blood wildly all over the room.

It only takes a moment for him to clean up the mess.

While still deactivated, he extends a tendril through each ring and attempts to reactivate it. The safety measures prevent the connection from initializing, making it impossible for the portal to form.

He moves it out of the way and reopens the portal. Once again, a tendril pierces the ring from east to west. He moves another to the opposite side of the ring.

Experimentally, the west ring moves vertically, then horizontally, then twists and turns, slowly spinning in the vine’s sinuous hold. The protruding tendril moves perfectly relative to the disc in all directions, for all appearances flailing about while simultaneously not moving at all.

Movement halts on both ends as the next phase of testing begins.

A small horn forms on the end protruding from the west ring. While maintaining the trickle of energy to sustain the connection, magic flows through the tendril, through the gateway, and out the other side. The muscles actuate, vibrating in a specific pattern, and the miniature horn begins to glow.

The spell cuts off. The horn retracts and repeats the spell, projecting light from the opposite ring’s interior. A small flow of power gathers at the end of the horn, blasting a miniature beam through the portal and emerging from the other side, ineffectual slamming into the armored wall.

The horn is absorbed and the tendril extends back through.

The west ring, still active, descends down into the floor. A protective shell encases it as it is undulated through a tube to arrive just outside of the house. The sphere shifts and gains shape, forming into a black cat surrounded by a protective sac. It erupts from the ground, and is birthed out into the world, blinking its eyes for the first time.

Cure pays attention to the draw required to maintain the portals as he attempts to walk the cat away. It immediately trips and falls flat on its face. It’s awkward and difficult to move one set of limbs without the other, forcing him to pause as he fleshes out the feline’s nervous system.

He’s suddenly thankful that it’s dark outside, otherwise somepony would definitely have noticed somepony’s pet flopping about pitifully on the ground.

The three centimeter diameter of the entire ring assembly takes up too much room to also fit the necessary bits of brain in the cranium, forcing him to relocate the disk to the cat’s torso instead. This necessitates that he reconfigure the digestive tract to accommodate its placement, but allows him to make the small animal a puppet, giving it direction and drive while retaining its memories within his own mind.

With all of the processing occurring remotely, the act of locomotion smooths out and becomes more fluid. The cat resumes its journey, quietly slipping into the night.

His excitement grows to new heights as he monitors the magical consumption. Following above the underground water pipes into town, he can accurately gauge the distance as the throughput slowly ticks up.

He had always assumed that the requirement to sustain it would be steep, and the books he absorbed with Celestia shortly after his ascension indicated the cost would increase exponentially with distance, but the portals created in ages past were designed with entire creatures in mind. A circle with a single centimeter in diameter is just over three-quarters of a centimeter squared, whereas one large enough for a unicorn to comfortably pass would need to be somewhere around seventeen thousand times as large.

An entire team is required to power one moving more than a kilometer, making the prospect completely infeasible for use in transportation. Not only is the magical draw problematic, but the material cost for the needed crystals would be absolutely ruinous for most ponies.

Meter after meter passes by with a barely perceptible increase in the draw from his pool, wholly overshadowed by the unfathomable regeneration afforded by his extended plant network. Seeing such inconsequential increases, the cat climbs a tree and rests on a branch out of sight of any bats, shifting and reforming into an owl before taking flight.

Keeping its speed consistent with a typical member of the species, it flies east along the rail line, only beginning to draw a noticeably higher amount of power after the four kilometer mark. By five and a half the draw is significant, though not completely overwhelming, but very quickly begins rising at an alarming rate. While he could push it further, the main concern is the amount of heat being generated by the small portal at such ranges.

Not wanting to risk a burnout, the owl pitches south and turns west, reversing its course back towards Golden Hills. It makes its way towards his shop, entering through a window that seemingly opens itself upon its approach. With the body in direct physical contact with his plant, he severs the internal connection, withdraws the tendril back through the portal, and powers down the ring.

After several minutes of cooling, he once again pours power into it, watching from both ends as the process repeats and the connection reestablishes. The cost of activation proportionally increases at distance, but is not significantly higher than maintaining the opening.

The body is reabsorbed, leaving only a ring sitting on the floor of his office at his mom’s shop. The tendril once again withdraws, and the ring deactivates. It disappears in a flash, popping back into existence in a shallow enclosure just underground outside his house before being gently relocated back inside the room.

A large vine pokes up through the ground, the end of which forms into a clone of the colt with a vine attached to its withers. It begins pumping a hoof wildly in the air, cackling gleefully, and dancing in place for several minutes. With his excitement worked out of his system, the clone dissolves and its connected vine disappears back into the ground.

The remainder of the tube reemerges and the ceramic saw is once again readied.

Cure cracks his metaphorical knuckles and gets to work.

Author's Note

I wonder how many people will see the chapter title and expect a phoenix to show up...

Lots to digest in that one. First off, we get confirmation that at least some ponies know who Cure is. He's a thick, stocky build, so it's not really surprising that somepony who he has met and interacted with and who has intimate knowledge of his finances would recognize him, disguise or not. Would they accidentally greet him as such? Maybe. Catch me before my coffee and who knows what you'll get.

More bad news comes later - The fillies, RP in particular, are up for the GGG. Thankfully, he seems to have dodged the bullet for now, but, much to his dismay, it's coming eventually. And yes, as far as RP getting the short end of the stick, I do realize he bought her that sax, but a few hundred bits barely registers in his book.

I'm sure many of you are wondering why he's completely accepted that he and these girls are in a relationship. Keep in mind that they began pursuing him well before things started getting super crazy and loyalty is his big thing. He knows how hard it is for girls to find a dude, so as long as it isn't a toxic relationship he's perfectly fine going with the flow.

As far as Crowned Piece... I'm kinda surprised no one guessed such a thing may happen. If he had all the nerves and muscles then he would have a fully functional horn. Recall, if you will, that even with the basic horn 1.0 Cure briefly gave himself back during his first experiments he could fairly easily activate it and lift a rock. I suspect any future "give me a horn" requests will result in them being made of bone instead of the correct material, though.

As for the portals? Yeah, I saw people guessing almost immediately. I didn't go to a lot of effort to obscure it, though he did make a token effort to confuse both Midnight and whoever the goldsmith was by ordering a tube, which he can then cut down as needed. 10cm = 50 sets of rings, even if he has nowhere near enough crystals for all that. That may have been excessive, but he also ended up not needing relays every 100m along the rail lines. Better to have and not need, I suppose.

And in regards to those, a little math for your consideration...

Area of a circle = pi * r2
So half a centimeter would be 0.7854 cm2, roughly.

Unicorns stallions are, at the withers, eleven hooves on average, or about 112 cm tall. They could duck down when walking through, but let's be realistic and assume that a bunch of haughty unicorn mages would not do that. We'll round up to about 140cm in diameter for an area of slightly over 15,400 cm2. Therefore, the tiny portals would only need to use approximately .005% as much energy, in theory.

Cure's magic capacity may still be crap compared to a unicorn mage, but his regeneration is a few orders of magnitude larger thanks to his cheating BS, so 1/20000th is easily manageable. If we assume that the cost to maintain the portal increases by 20% every 100 meters and starts at 1/20000th, then it reaches a full unicorn civilian's draw at around 4.8km and a typical unicorn mage's at around 5.5 (keep in mind, we're still talking about the tiny portal of 1cm in diameter).

Of course, the 20% increase per 100m is rather arbitrary, but it would make the "5 unicorns to conjure a 1km portal" work out correctly too.

I make a valiant effort not to go back and change chapters, but I'm reserving the right to do exactly that here if I've fudged a number somewhere. I'm sure someone will check my math.

So now the question is, "How long could he possibly wait before showing off this new trick?"

Hmmmmmm

We'll see.

Thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting, folks. Enjoy!