How He Met Twilight Sparkle's Mother
Private Night Light looked at his reflection in his golden armor. Polishing was one of the more relaxing parts of his job as a member of the EUP Guards. It was such a nice, repetitive task, one which let him forget about all his other worries, one which left him with the feeling of a job well done every time he saw his somewhat green-tinted face smiling back at him.
He’d been on duty for four months, ever since the summer training camp. He’d heard stories that the promises the recruiters told were all lies, and he’d been afraid that he might have been assigned to Dodge Junction or Tall Tale. But, happily, his request that he stay close to home had been honored, and thus he’d been assigned to the Canterlot city guard. So far he hadn’t been assigned to any patrols, let alone the fairly rare criminal investigations. Mostly he stood places for a few hours, then came back to barracks to polish armor (his and other ponies’) and fill out paperwork (almost entirely other ponies’).
Most ponies, given that sort of life, would have been bored out of their minds. Most would have been disappointed by the near-total lack of wild chases through the streets and the utter absence of any need to demonstrate brawn, courage, cool judgment under pressure, or any other trait not found in a paperweight. Those guards who made a career of it either held a fanatical devotion to the calling (the minority) or simply liked a nice, undemanding, cushy job.
Not Night Light. Night Light had been Quiet Game champion four years running in school. His idea of wild excitement was an evening at the bingo parlor. The tedium of guard duty, to him, was a thrill-a-minute experience, being the very symbol of Princess Celestia’s enlightened rule over the three pony tribes of Equestria. And organizing the armory by size, then by tribe, then by duty shift? That had been the kind of mental workout he loved. And on top of that, they let him polish things! But despite that, he was working towards something that thrilled him even more...
(The other guards at the barracks kept looking at him funny. Oh, they liked him, he knew that. They kept giving him more responsibilities, so obviously they trusted him with really important things like Form 20475 (Cake Flour Consumption Report (Monthly)). But, well, there was something weird about how they’d break off conversations whenever he entered a room. And he’d begun to wonder when one of the other guards would invite him for cider after shift. Of course, he’d have to turn them down unless it was on the weekend, but it would still be nice to be asked...)
He gave the blue star in the center of the breastplate one final little buff before lifting it in his magic and sliding it back over his body. He was due to stand in front of the bank this afternoon. (The sergeant hadn’t wanted to give him the assignment. In fact, usually Night Light got assigned to guard places where hardly any ponies went- because, the sergeant claimed, his blue-gray fur reflecting off his armor made it look green and tarnished. But the feather-flu was going around again, and more than half the pegasus guards were off sick, so Night Light got the nod.)
Pausing only to check the file cabinets (and to re-file the folder of Missing Property reports under P for “Property, Missing” instead of M), he stepped out into the open lobby of the barracks. His fellow guard, Pea Knife, stood by the sergeant’s desk, staring with annoyance at the young unicorn mare who was, at the moment, waving a file folder full of paper at the sergeant.
“-this is important!” the mare was saying. “At the very least you should look at what I’ve got! This could be the story of the year! It might even mean a promotion to the guard pony who prevents it from happening!”
“Pardon me, ma’am,” Night Light said, stepping up to the desk between her and Pea Knife. Saluting, he continued, “Private Night Light ready to relieve the guard at the Bank of Canterlot, sir!”
The sergeant, who had been glowering impassively at the mare, turned his attention to Night Light. “Stand down, private,” he said. “I’m reassigning you.”
“Sir?” Night Light asked. “Who will relieve Monolith and Time Server?”
“Pea Knife and I will,” the sergeant said. The old earth pony stood up from behind the desk, stretching a little and popping his neck. “I’m assigning you to the front desk in the meantime. Take care of this… reporter…” He said the word as if it meant horrible disfiguring disease. “Have Corporal Square Knot relieve you when he comes in. He should be here an hour before shift change.”
“Sir?” Night Light asked again. “I’ll be the only pony in the barracks. What do I do if someone comes in to report a crime?”
The sergeant looked at Pea Knife, who looked back with the exact same expression. Night Light didn’t know what it meant, but he’d seen it in almost every conversation he’d had with his fellow guards, usually after he’d asked some question about his duties. Whatever it was, it wasn’t happiness. “Look,” the sergeant said, putting his eyes back on Night Light, “just take care of them, okay? Do whatever you need to. Just make them happy, all right?”
Night Light snapped off another salute. “Understood, sir!” he said. “I won’t let you down!”
The sergeant returned the salute with a slow movement of his foreleg. Then, nodding to Pea Knife, the two walked around Night Light and the mare, heading for the door out to Canterlot’s high street.
As they stepped through the door, Night Light thought he heard the sergeant mutter, “Let him deal with that daft filly, he’s half-“ The door shut the end of the sentence off, leaving him to wonder what the sergeant thought he was half of.
“Private?”
Night Light looked at the mare. Like him, she was a unicorn, and she looked to be about his age. Unlike him, she had a light, almost white coat, of the kind which would have got her palace duty if she’d been in the guards. Her mane was a grape and vanilla swirl, cut straight across the bangs with geometric precision. Two wide, blue eyes stared into his own amber eyes with an urgency that didn’t quite fit with the sergeant’s behavior, or so it seemed to him.
“Private?” the mare repeated, and Night Light realized he’d been staring.
“Oh, sorry!” he said, shaking his head. He scrambled around the desk, steepled his forehooves on the desktop in what he thought was a judicious and dignified pose, and said, “What appears to be the problem, citizen?”
“There’s going to be a break-in at the Canterlot Museum of Antiquities,” the mare said without any further preamble. “And if the guard doesn’t act, someone’s going to steal Eurus’s Cup!”
Night Light blinked. “Is it an expensive cup? Have you informed Mr. Eurus?” he asked.
The mare groaned and put a hoof on her head. “No,” she groaned, “because Eurus isn’t a pony. Eurus’s Cup is an ancient golden artifact from the same civilization that crafted the Idol of Boreas.”
Nodding, Night Light said, “So, have you informed Mr. Boreas?”
“Mr. Boreas? Seriously?” The mare waved a hoof in the air. “No, the Idol of Boreas, as in the greatest treasure of the griffons! The treasure that, when it was lost, brought down the griffon kingdom! And Eurus’s Cup is like that! Do you understand now?”
Night Light rubbed his chin. “I believe I do,” he said. “Obviously you can’t go inform the griffons. It’s too far.”
The desk made a surprisingly resonant thump when the mare slammed her head into it.
“All right, now let me explain everything.”
The bulletin board from the barracks’ lounge had been cleared. The contents of the file folder the mare had brought were, one by one, floating up onto the board, where push-pins fixed them in place.
“I’m Twilight Velvet,” she said. “I’m a reporter for the Canterlot Herald, society beat. I mostly cover things like flower society meetings and store openings. But I’m just one big break away from becoming a star reporter, and I think I’ve found it.”
Night Light nodded and stayed silent. He didn’t want to restart the confusion.
“So when I heard that this person was coming to Canterlot,” she said, pointing to a large photograph of a rather obese griffon, “I knew something was up. This is Guilder the Griffon. He claims to be head of a negotiating mission from the Griffonstone Chamber of Commerce. He’s the first diplomat of any kind to come out of the griffon lands in decades. And he’s here, in the city, right now.”
She paused, and Night Light realized she was expecting some sort of reaction. “All right, so a griffon diplomat is in town,” he said. “What’s bad about that?”
“What’s bad is, we don’t really trade anything with Griffonstone,” Twilight Velvet said. “What little trade we do have is strictly cash-and-carry. There aren’t any tariffs or taxes or anything like that, so what is there to negotiate?” She tapped the photograph, which was now surrounded by three or four showing Guilder and a group of four other griffons around him, all younger and not even a little fat. “So I knew something had to be up. So I began tailing the delegation.”
“Isn’t that stalking?”
“I prefer to call it investigative reporting,” Twilight Velvet said firmly. “Especially since it paid off.” Two more photos went onto the wall- one of a griffon passing a rough-looking pegasus on the ground. One of the griffon’s foreclaws seemed twisted in an odd way in the photograph. “I’m pretty sure I caught the moment on film where one of Guilder’s party passed a note to this pegasus.”
“That’s weird,” Night Light said. “We usually see maybe half a dozen or so griffons in Canterlot in a whole year, if that. How would a griffon who’s just come to town know a pegasus? Were they friends back east or something?”
“That’s what I was wondering,” Velvet said. “So I followed the pegasus to this old warehouse.” Up went a photo of an old brick building with several windows on the upper story broken. “I teleported up to the ledge-“
“Teleported?” Night Light asked, impressed. “That’s a high-level spell!”
Velvet smiled proudly. “Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, Class of 976!” she said.
“976?” Night Light blinked. “So you’ve only been at the newspaper six months?”
“That’s not important,” Velvet muttered hurriedly. “Anyway, I got onto the ledge and snapped these photos.” Three more went on the corkboard, the last being a close-up of a dark-coated pegasus wearing sunglasses. “Do you know who that is?”
Night Light shrugged. “He’s too old to be Wind Rider,” he said. “Should I know him?”
“No decent pony ought to,” Velvet growled. “I only know because I was assigned to cover a couple of his so-called rallies last month.” She reached up to tap the photo with one hoof. “This is Stormbringer. He’s the leader of a radical fringe group who call themselves Phalanx Novum. They talk about restoring the old pegasus military order. They say Celestia is too soft, and they talk about overthrowing her.”
“What??” Night Light stomped a foot on the lounge’s tile floor. “That’s lunacy! And I’m pretty sure it’s also illegal!”
Velvet shook her head. “Royal edict of 841,” she said. “Celestia decreed it’s all right to talk about overthrowing her, so long as no one actually does anything about it.”
Confused, Night Light rubbed his head. “That… that can’t be right,” he said. “Does she actually want to be overthrown?”
Velvet smiled. “You know,” she said, “I could have all sorts of discussions with you about the importance of freedom of speech versus the need for a regime to defend itself. But right now,” she continued, and those blue eyes seemed to widen a little bit just for him, “I want to say you’re the very first pony I’ve ever mentioned that little fact to who didn’t say, ‘Oh, well, if Celestia said so, I’m sure it’s all right.’”
“Well…” The rubbing didn’t seem to help the tension, but Night Light kept trying. “Well, it doesn’t seem right. It’s like saying you can plan a robbery so long as you don’t… oh, wait.” The tension eased away. “You can plan a robbery all you like. It’s illegal to arrest someone for planning the robbery unless the robbery actually happens. Otherwise we’d have to arrest every mystery writer in Equestria.”
The blue eyes didn’t seem quite so deep. An off-white hoof patted him on the pauldron. “Hold on to that thought a minute,” Velvet said. “I’m getting to that part.”
“Oh. Right.” Night Light returned his attention to the bulletin board. “So. Stormbringer. Not a nice pony.”
“Right,” Velvet said. “The one good thing about him and his Phalanx Novum is, they bring out the ponies. That is, the ponies opposed to him. His last rally had seven attendees counting him… and over a hundred counter-protesters. They were cleaning rotten produce off the park gazebo for hours after that one.”
“Not nice, but not important either, then,” Night Light pointed out.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Velvet said. “He only has a few followers, but he does have some. And one of them- this one here-“ she pointed to a figure in some sort of uniform in the background of the second warehouse photo- “-this one he ordered to do something or other. I was outside the window on the ledge a story above them, so I couldn’t hear what it was. But I did follow him here.”
The next photo was a large building, with large glass windows and skylights in the roof, but Night Light didn’t recognize it. “And where is that?”
“That,” Velvet said, pointing to a small door next to a large roll-down door, “is the service entrance of the Canterlot Museum of Antiquities. The pegasus I followed is a security guard there. That was yesterday about an hour before closing, so I’m guessing he works the graveyard shift.”
“Ah,” Night Light said. “So this suspicious griffon passes a note to this pegasus,” he said, tracing the links on the corkboard with a glowing magic line, “who is apparently a follower of this Stormbringer pony. Stormbringer then orders another follower to do something, and that pony is a guard at the museum.”
“Right,” Velvet nodded. “So it’s obvious that Guilder and Stormbringer are working together, and that whatever they want involves the museum. What does that suggest to you?”
“Well, you said a robbery,” Night Light said. “And something about a cup. But if it’s just a cup, why doesn’t the guard just fly out with it?”
“First off, it’s not just any cup,” Velvet said. “The Museum of Antiquities isn’t just art and old bones. There are a lot of powerful magic artifacts in there. There are alarms, and there are alarms on the alarms. And Eurus’s Cup doesn’t exactly tuck under a hoof. It’s a big trophy-size cup. Takes two ponies to carry if you’re not using magic.”
“Which neither griffons nor pegasi can do,” Night Light said. “But what if they’re just after loot? I mean,” he said, pointing first to a photo of Guilder’s delegates and then to Stormbringer’s followers, “why would you bring this many ponies- or griffons- together if you’re not going to clean the place out?”
“I thought of that,” Velvet said. “But there are other places- the bank, jewelry stores and the like- that the griffons could hit if they just wanted money.” She pulled the last item out of the file folder- an old newspaper clipping showing a wood-cut image of a very elaborate loving cup, the handles stylized to look like flames whipped up in an invisible breeze. “So I went looking in the Herald’s archives for anything griffon-related I could find, and I found this.”
“That’s the cup?”
“That’s Eurus’s Cup. It was donated to the museum about eighty years ago by King Guto’s predecessor, King Genardo of Griffonstone. Can you read the tag underneath?”
Night Light looked closely. “DONATED,” he read aloud, “to Her Royal Highness’s Museum, the Cup of Eurus, by King Genardo the Generous. Once a symbol of the martial fury of the griffons, this trophy was considered out of place by Genardo in this peaceful age, and thus it is entrusted to the ponies as a symbol of the perpetual peace between the two kingdoms.”
“Exactly.” Twilight Velvet tapped the clipping. “The Idol of Boreas was a symbol of pride. It engendered pride among the griffons. When it was lost, so was the pride. But this? In legend Eurus was a bringer of conflict and war. What do you think would happen if the griffons got it back, now that they don’t have the Idol anymore?”
Night Light shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “That clipping says it’s a symbol. So is this.” He tapped the star on the front of his armor. “But this star doesn’t make me Celestia. It’s just a symbol that I uphold her authority. It’s not magical.”
“But Eurus’s Cup could be,” Velvet insisted. “And anyway, it’s about to be stolen.”
“Maybe,” Night Light said. “You’ve got a lot of circumstantial evidence, but you don’t have anything that even says they’re going to break in, never mind steal anything. The sergeant won’t authorize a search, let alone an arrest, on this.”
“Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Only magistrates and commanders can order search and seizure,” Night Light said. “I’m only a private- the most junior private in the city patrol.” He sighed and added, “I haven’t even had my first real patrol yet.”
Twilight Velvet tapped her chin thoughtfully. “So what you’re saying,” she said slowly, “is that we need more evidence.”
“Yes, exactly!”
The mare with the purple and white mane grinned. “Great!” she said. “Let’s go get some!”
Night Light scrabbled a little higher up on the roof tiles, trying not to think how easy it would be to slip down them, over the edge and onto the cobblestones of the street below.
“Be careful!” Twilight Velvet hissed. “That camera’s borrowed! And the telephoto lens is very expensive!”
The camera in question bobbled in Night Light’s magical grip, hovering inches below the overhang of the onion-bulb minaret above them. Velvet had chosen the location because it was one of the few places in the city that looked down on the Museum of Antiquities from above where a pegasus flying overhead wouldn’t immediately spot them. To her the steep, slippery roof tiles of the building under the minaret didn’t even register as minor drawbacks.
Granted, with the feather flu running through Canterlot, which was primarily a unicorn city in the first place, there weren’t that many pegasi to hide from. But the whole point was to observe a group of very particular pegasi, plus four or five griffons, without being observed in turn. All it took was one curious flyer…
So Night Light kept quiet and tried to aim the camera while wondering if he would live long enough to get chewed out for hanging a CLOSED- come back later sign on the Canterlot guard barracks front door. Somehow he doubted that the sergeant would remember that he had, in fact, ordered Night Light to do anything necessary to take care of Twilight Velvet. He might have been naive, but not that naive.
“Contact!” Velvet whispered. “Thirty meters above the Norma’s Markups store.”
Night Light knew the place. His family didn’t shop there, but most of his school friends did, looking for the latest fashion or fad. Forgetting about the roof under him, he pivoted his camera over Velvet’s shoulder and looked through the viewfinder.
“I see him,” he said. “Wait- there’s another.” Sure enough, there were two griffons flying towards them, one trailing the other. In a few moments they were below their position, lazily circling around the roof of the museum.
“Like buzzards,” Velvet muttered. “Why doesn’t somebody do something? That’s got to look suspicious!”
“Feather flu,” Night Light mumbled back. “The city guards don’t even have enough ponies to fill the guard roster. We don’t have anyone to spare today for street patrols. The royal guard stay busy patrolling the palace. And safety patrol never comes above the city walls when they’re on duty.” And with a groan he added, “And any civilian who reports them is going to find a Closed sign on the barracks door.”
“There’s another one.” A third griffon was circling the museum along with the other two. They glided with grim deliberation above and around the building, and Velvet’s camera clicked and clicked as it caught the griffons’ grim expressions. “They couldn’t be more obvious about casing the joint.”
“Do crooks really call it that?” Night Light said aloud.
“How should I know?” Velvet asked, not looking up from her camera. “It’s not like I’m given assignments to go interview criminals.” With a growl she added, “It’d be a lot more interesting than retyping the minutes of the latest Floral Society meeting.”
“I was just wondering,” Night Light said defensively. “I mean, I’d call it surveillance, or maybe scouting. ‘Casing the joint’ sounds like it came out of a crime thriller novel.”
“I’m writing one of those,” Velvet muttered. “Well, trying to. I keep getting stuck on the third sentence.”
“Third sentence? What are the other two?”
“It was a dark and stormy night,” Velvet quoted. “That was how they knew the weather manager had been murdered.”
“Um.” Suddenly Night Light felt extremely conscious of the slippery roof underneath him, and also that said roof was no longer the most dangerous thing about this perch. “Um… I hate to say it, but it kind of lacks something.”
“I know,” Velvet said. “It lacks a third sentence.”
Something told Night Light that, if any time or place existed where pursuing this conversation was a good idea, this rooftop hidey-hole wasn’t it. He looked around for something, anything, to change the subject.
Good fortune provided, in the form of a pegasus exiting the roof-access door of the museum. He wore a museum guard’s brown uniform, and under one wing he carried what appeared to be a very thin file folder.
“Rooftop,” Night Light hissed, and for the first time he began clicking the shutter on his camera. “Quickly!”
On the roof, the guard gave a quick scan of the skies overhead, then let out one shrill whistle, opened his wing, and let the folder drop onto the museum roof.
The moment the guard was back inside, one of the griffons swooped down with a speed completely unlike the lazy circling of before. Talons snatched up the folder. The griffon climbed back into the air, and without a second look back the trio of griffons made a beeline for Canterlot’s diplomatic residences.
“Did you get that?” Velvet asked. “I ran out of film just before he made the grab.”
“Pretty sure I got it,” Night Light said. “That is, if you used high-speed film and if the f-stop is set properly.”
“Great.”
Night Light paused. “That didn’t sound like a ‘Great!’ great,” he said. “That sounded more like a ‘shoot and darn’ great.”
“I know it did,” Velvet said. “Because that hoof-off wasn’t right.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Night Light asked. “That’s got to be the security plans for the museum, right? We can show the photos to any magistrate in town, and we’d have a warrant instantly! We wouldn’t even have to worry about diplomatic immunity, since Griffonstone doesn’t really have a government anymore.”
“Yeah. Now tell me, how quickly can you develop film?”
“Me?” Night Light asked. “Well, I was a little bit of a photo hound when I was younger, but I never developed my own film. I used the camera shop like everypony else.”
“So did I,” Velvet said. “But they close at five. It’s quarter of four now. And even their rush service takes two hours. And the newspaper won’t do it unless there’s a story on hoof ready to run tomorrow that needs them. We can’t take the photos to a magistrate until tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Night Light gave this a moment’s thought. “By which time the griffons will have dumped the file, so no evidence to find.”
“No,” Velvet said. “By which time the heist will already be over.”
Night Light sat bolt upright, knocking his head on the minaret over head, then scrambling with his hooves to keep from sliding down the roof. “What??” he asked. “Won’t it take time for them to look over the plans?”
“What plans?” Velvet asked. “You really think the blueprints of the museum, the wiring charts and spell matrices for the alarm system, and the guard roster are all going to fit in that little folder?” She snorted. “Besides, they already have a pony on the inside. He just passed them a note to tell them where and when he’ll have the alarms turned off. One piece of paper’s all you need for that.”
“So you think-“
“Everything’s ready,” Velvet said. “I’m certain of it. The heist is going down tonight.”
“But- but it can’t!” Night Light’s shout sent him about three rows of tiles down the roof, and his hooves clacked and scrabbled to pull him back up. “Something like this has got to take careful planning! It’s not something they could just do in a matter of hours!”
“We don’t know how long they’ve had to plan this,” Velvet said. “But the griffons got a note into Stormbringer’s hooves the day they arrived in Canterlot. That means they were planning this with him long before they got here.” She shook her head. “And once they have the Cup, they’re going to want it out of the city as fast and as far as they can get it before the alarm goes up. If they’re smart, they won’t wait.”
“But… but we don’t have any more evidence!” Night Light said. “And maybe my fellow guards trust me, but the sergeant won’t send out an arrest squad just on my say-so.”
“I know.” Velvet closed her eyes and sighed. When she looked up at him (again with those big blue eyes), she was grinning again. “Which means we’ll have to do it ourselves.”
Corporal Square Knot had arrived at the barracks by the time Night Light returned to sign off-shift. Based on the shaky writing added to the Closed sign, he had also left: Closed due to feather flu- if it’s an emergency visit the palace barracks. – Cpl. Knot. Apparently the corporal had been forced to take sick leave like the other pegasi.
It took Night Light eight minutes to unlock the door, put his armor away, sign out a plainclothes badge and a civilian shirt from stores, and write his own little note to the sergeant explaining that he was still assisting Twilight Velvet with her complaint. That wasn't fast enough for his companion. “Are we done yet?” Velvet asked as Night Light locked the door again.
“Not quite,” Night Light said. “I have to go tell my professor I won’t be able to make tonight’s class.”
“Class?” Velvet stopped short at this. “Haven’t you already graduated?”
“From Canterlot Prep School, sure,” Night Light said. “But I’m in college. This job in the Guard is just to pay for my tuition.”
“Really?” Velvet appeared curious, even enthusiastic. “So what are you studying? Criminal law? Military history? Are you going to become an officer?”
“Even better,” Night Light said, smiling. “I’m going to be an accountant!”
Velvet deflated faster than a balloon in a pin foundry. “An accountant,” she said flatly. “Isn’t that a bit boring?”
“How could anyone ever think that?” Night Light didn’t notice the excited little spring in his step. “Think about how important accountants are! People depend on accountants to make sure their businesses are profitable, to make decisions on their future, to know if their employees are honest or thieves! Governments depend on accountants to keep taxes fair, to check how effective spending is, to keep the very economy itself running smoothly!”
Night Light was prancing now, trotting to a brass band only he could hear. “Accountants provide security and clarity in a confusing world! We can wade into a mass of disorganized data and bring forth ORDER! We are trusted to hold the very fate of people- of companies- of the very nation itself in our HOOVES! And the only reward we ask is a reasonable hourly billing rate!”
Ponies were staring and muttering at one another. Night Light didn’t notice, nor did he register the fact that he was forcing Velvet to walk backward at a fairly brisk rate.
“Why, nothing could be more exciting or glorious than being a pony with a CPA!” Night Light shouted. “We few, we happy few, who keep civilization running! Who keep the world spinning! Why, when wizards talk about how the universe is made of numbers, do you know who adds them up? Accountants, that’s who!”
“Private, you’re scaring me,” Velvet managed to gasp as her rump bounced off a lamp-post.
“Scaring you? SCARING you?” Night Light shouted, a manic gleam in his eye. “No need to be afraid! After all, any ordinary pony can charge a battle line or kick a monster in the teeth. But when the world itself needs saving? When all Equestria hangs in the balance?? Send in the ACCOUNTANTS!!!”
“Hey, buddy,” said the pony running the newsstand they were walking past, “you’re scaring me too, and I do my own taxes.”
Night Light froze. His dark blue-gray fur turned brilliant red around his face. He looked around and counted precisely forty-one staring unicorns and three earth ponies (though, thankfully, no pegasi or griffons, and especially no guards). “Ohmygosh,” he gasped, “oh, I am so, so, SO sorry. I completely lost my head.”
“Er… that’s quite all right,” Velvet muttered, pulling her flank off the magazine rack. She levitated several crumpled periodicals up onto the newsstand counter. “Er, I’m sorry about this. How much?”
“Eh, forget about it.” The newsie waved a hoof casually. “This ain’t the first lovers’ spat I’ve seen.”
Forty unicorns and three earth ponies nodded their heads in agreement.
Now it was Twilight Velvet’s turn to blush. “Oh,” she said.
“Well, actually, it isn’t like-“
A quick lightning spell shocked Night Light into silence. “Don’t confuse the ponies… darling,” Velvet cooed. “Now let’s go! Didn’t you want to show me the museum before it closes?”
“Er… um… sure!” Night Light tried to smile, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t working. The ponies around them seemed to accept it, though.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Velvet said, and there was a second zap twice as strong as the first. “That’s for frightening a lady,” she said.
“OW. Um. Yes, er, I’m very sorry about that. I just… well, I get carried away when I talk about astronomy or accounting.”
Velvet stepped over to Night Light and rubbed her neck against his. In his ear she whispered, “You’re just lucky I like being scared.”
“Er… yes’m,” Night Light replied, totally confused. “Er… why is that? Would you have fried me?”
“Well, I probably could,” Velvet said. “But no, I’d probably just tell Princess Celestia on you.”
Night Light froze solid.
“I mean, I was never good enough to be picked as her personal student,” Velvet continued, “but she did give us special classes once in a while. She’s really a very good teacher. And she remembers all her students.” She backed up far enough to let Night Light see a very wicked little grin. “I wonder what she’d think of a guard pony who went on a mad rant about bean-counting in public.”
“… bean-counting?” Night Light squeaked, hurt to the quick.
“So, on to the museum!” Velvet said aloud, and she took Night Light’s foreleg in her own and dragged him along the street. The peanut gallery, realizing that the street theater had ended, began to disperse.
“But what about my professor?” Night Light asked.
“He can take it up with my professor,” Velvet replied. “And which do you think is going to win?”
Night Light had the mental image of a pony swatting a fly with the whole of Mt. Canter.
“I can’t go in there!!”
“I assure you you can,” Velvet said, a little testy. “Now come on before you draw attention to us again.”
“But it’s against the rules!”
“Look, it’s just a restroom,” Velvet pointed out. “Ponies have been going into restrooms for ages.”
“Stallions-“
“Shh.”
Night Light struggled to lower his volume. “Stallions do not go into the little fillies’ room.”
“My father walked me in there all the time when I was potty-training and Mom was working,” Velvet said. “Now come on!” With a lunge she got Night Light’s tail in her teeth, and with a prolonged grunt she dragged him, skidding on his hooves, into the ladies’ room.
“Why are we doing this anyway?” Night Light hissed as the door closed behind them.
“Well, we can’t come in by the roof,” Velvet said. “That’s how the enemy’s coming in. We’d be spotted at once. The service entrance has a guard at all hours. And we can’t be sure the alarms are off the windows. So coming in as patrons and hiding was the only-“ She stopped, gasped, and asked, “Why, at a time like this, are you doing your hair?”
Night Light blinked. “Was I?” he asked, putting away the comb he’d just used to restore his mane’s side-parting. “I’m sorry. It’s just something I do without thinking about it. I just… well, I really don’t like looking disorderly, you see?”
Velvet nodded. “Of course,” she said, glancing in the mirror and brushing back a bit of her own mane with one hoof. “Everything in its proper place.” She pointed to a ceiling-tile in a place where the ceiling met the wall. “Now give me a boost.”
“How’s that again?”
“Just lift me up there, will you?”
“Well… all right…” Night Light lit up his horn, and with a bit of strain he raised Twilight Velvet off the floor with his magic, lifting her up. She reached up, lifted the tile out of its seat, and set it aside. Then, with a grunt, she stuck her forelegs through the opening, found something solid to grip, and lifted herself up into the ceiling.
“Thought so,” she said. “There’s a fair crawlspace up here. Plenty of room to hide in.”
“Hide in??” Night Light asked. “What about me?”
“Oh, you can fit up here, too,” Velvet said. “Just try not to kick up the dust.”
“And how am I-“
There was a flash of light, and Night Light saw stars as his head slammed against a roof joist.
“Now quiet,” Velvet whispered, sliding the ceiling tile back into place. The crawlspace went black except for the glow of Velvet’s horn. “Follow me. Keep balanced on the joists- those are the only things that’ll hold our weight.”
“Right.”
The two unicorns inched their way through the crawlspace. They heard the sound of the closing-hour bells as they were squeezing over an air duct. Night Light found himself frozen in place, barrel over the thin metal of the duct, hooftips balanced precariously on joists to either side, roof joists above digging into his back. Hoofsteps passed below, as the guards searched for any laggard museum-goers. Finally they went away, and after a minute Night Light got the rest of the way over with only a soft clang.
Then the crawlspace ran out. “Here we are,” Velvet whispered again. She reached beneath her, lifted a bit of ceiling tile up, and stretched a hoof down beneath her. After a moment she said, “Coast is clear.”
“How do you know?”
In the dim light of her horn’s magic glow, Night Light saw something flash in the frog of Velvet’s hoof. “Mirror,” she said. “Never sneak through buildings without one.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“When I was a little filly, I did it all the time,” Velvet said. “You’d be amazed how far you can get in this city by going through crawlspaces. Why, between these and basements I could cross half the city without-“
“-getting in trouble?” Night Light interrupted, not whispering nearly enough.
“Only when I got caught,” Velvet said.
“And how often was that?”
“Hm… my last year at Celestia’s school, only once every other week.”
“Only- you mean you were still doing this this past spring??”
“I’m doing it right now, silly,” Velvet grinned. “Now just a moment…” There was a tiny flash of brilliant magic, then another. “Okay, come here. I’ve cut us peepholes.”
Night Light carefully worked his way over next to Velvet. A small slit had been cut through the wood paneling that enclosed the crawlspace. Through it he could see the large central hall below and the upper gallery across from their vantage point. The museum’s lights had been dimmed along with Celestia lowering the sun outside, but there was still enough light to see, among about two dozen floor displays arranged in a double ring below the skylight, a large golden trophy cup in its own glass case.
“I see it,” he said. “So what do we do now?”
“We wait until they arrive,” Twilight Velvet said. “And then you arrest them.”
“I arrest them.”
“That’s what I said,” Velvet whispered.
“Remember when I said I was studying accounting?”
“Now is not the time for an encore of your speech,” Velvet hissed hurriedly.
“I mention it,” Night Light said, “because one of the things you do a lot of in accounting is add numbers. And I add six or seven pegasi plus five griffons and get twelve bad guys against one unarmed guardspony.”
“So?” Velvet sounded like this wasn’t even worth discussing. “Doesn’t the guard have a motto? ‘One gang, one guard’?”
“Trust me, it says that nowhere in the guard regulations,” Night Light said. “But it does say, and I’m quoting here, ‘When you are outnumbered by ten to one or more, evacuate all civilians in the immediate area, then run away.’”
“Oh, is that all?” Somehow Night Light didn’t think Velvet was getting the message. “Well, with me around it’ll only be six to-“ Her voice cut off with a hiss, and the light of her horn went out.
Below, in the central hall of the museum, a security guard had walked out under the center of the skylight. In his teeth he held the handle of a naval lantern, one with the shield that could be raised or lowered to hide the light.
The guard ruffled his wings out as he set the lantern down on the floor in the center of the room. With one hoof steadying the lantern, he flipped the shield down, blocking the light off. Then he flicked it up and down in a pattern: short-long, short-long, short-short. After a couple seconds of darkness he repeated the pattern, and after a couple more seconds, he raised the shield again and left it up.
A faint crashing sound echoed from above, followed by the shattering of glass shards on the museum floor. Large forms landed heavily on the floor, one by one, the last touching down with more grace than haste.
“Well.” The voice coming from the last, and largest, griffon to land sounded like someone’s jolly uncle had decided to be serious for a moment. The griffon turned to face the guard, continuing, “I see your boss came through on his part of the deal.”
“Indeed I did, Guilder.”
Six more figures landed on the museum floor in an arc behind the guard. One, wearing a black suit with tie, stepped past the guard. “And now it’s time to do your part,” the older pegasus said.
“All in due time, Stormbringer.” Guilder the Griffon looked around the displays, up at the dimmed lights. “Are you certain the alarms are off?”
“They’re off,” Stormbringer said. “And, for the moment, the other guards have been dispensed with. But they’ll be waking up soon enough.”
“I see,” Guilder said, nodding. “All the more reason to be quick about this, then.”
“Yes,” Stormbringer said. “The sooner Eurus’s Cup is away to Griffonstone, the sooner the war begins, and the sooner we pegasi can reclaim the heritage of our sires!”
“And dams,” a female voice murmured from behind Stormbringer.
“Quite.” Stormbringer gestured towards the display case. “So, if your people will just-“
“FREEZE! This is a citizen’s arrest!”
In a flash of light, the mare who had been beside Night Light in the crawlspace appeared in the center of the room, practically standing on the lantern. “You’re under arrest for breaking and entering, criminal conspiracy, and attempted grand larceny!” Twilight Velvet smirked as she turned to face one and then the other of the conspirators. “Surrender now and wait for the guard to arrive and take you into custody!”
Guilder laughed a deep belly laugh, and a couple of his griffon henchmen snickered. “Really?” he asked. “One pony arrest us? You and what army?”
“Darn.”
A hoof stomped the museum floor, sending up sparks- Stormbringer’s hoof. “Darn!” he repeated. “Weeks of work, weeks of planning, wasted at the last second because of a civilian!”
“I don’t see the problem,” Guilder said, a bit confused. “We outnumber her eleven to one.”
“Of course you don’t,” the pegasus said. “You weren’t supposed to. Not until we’d trailed you and the Cup back to your headquarters so we could bag the lot of you.”
“What?” Guilder’s expression snapped over from confused to shocked. “Is this treachery, Stormbringer?”
“No,” Stormbringer growled, “it’s a sting.” He reached a hoof into his jacket and pulled out a badge case. “SMILE Agent Stormbringer, Canterlot bureau chief, Secret Monster Intelligence League of Equestria. We had a tip that a would-be successor to the griffon throne wanted Eurus’s Cup so he could summon the wind monster Aeolus and use it as a weapon of war. That would be you, or possibly-“
“It would not!!” Guilder snapped. “This is the first I’ve heard of a monster! We got word that a pegasus freak front wanted to get the Cup to Griffonstone and was willing to help with the heist! That’s all! We were just going to grab the Cup and whatever else valuable we could fit in a sack!”
“What?” Now it was Stormbringer’s turn to look surprised. “You don’t want the Cup?”
“Of course I want the Cup!” Guilder shouted. “It’s a big lump of solid gold, isn’t it? But all that nonsense of being the next King Grover? Pah!” He snapped his talons dismissively. “That was my father’s generation’s thing. I’m in it for the money!”
Stormbringer sighed. “Well, we’ll figure all that out later,” he said. “But even if this operation is a bust, I will have to bring you in.” He gave a loud whistle, and suddenly a lot of shadows appeared in the upper gallery.
“Bring me in?” Guilder chuckled. “Ridiculous! This is a clear case of entrapment! After all, you lured me into this.”
“No, I didn’t,” Stormbringer said. “But, as I said, we’ll figure it out later. Take them.”
A net flew down from the gallery, easily snaring the five griffons.
A second net came down from the other side of the room, covering Stormbringer and his pegasi.
“What??” Stormbringer wrestled with the net, but the struggles of the other pegasi only ensnared him more thoroughly. “Guilder, what did you do with my backup?”
“I didn’t know you had backup!” Guilder barked. “Maybe you forgot to pay them on time?”
A low, malicious chuckle echoed across the dim museum floor. A cloaked figure stepped into the light of the lantern, unicorn horn poking up from the hood. “Oh, it wasn’t Stormbreaker’s fault, exactly,” the newcomer said. “His backup ponies are dedicated and loyal. Unfortunately, they were also quite outnumbered. And, now, quite unconscious.”
Other cloaked figures emerged from the shadows, joining in their leader’s chuckling.
“Of course, actually getting to Eurus’s Cup would have been difficult if you lot had stayed alert,” the cloaked unicorn continued. “Conveniently for us, some random filly with more courage than sense provided the perfect distraction.”
Night Light saw Twilight Velvet’s ears droop for the first time since he’d met her… just a few hours before? It seemed longer somehow.
“But now here we are,” the cloaked figure said. His horn lit up with a bright pink glow, and the glass cover of the Cup’s display case lifted off its pedestal. “And thanks to both SMILE and Guilder the Golden Claw being such useful patsies, the Cult of the Aeoli finally has the means in our hooves to destroy Celestia and make ourselves rulers of Equestria.” With a slightly louder chuckle he added, “And then, rulers of the world!”
“That’s not going to happen.” Velvet’s voice sounded uncertain, completely lacking its former unbreakable confidence. “The Royal Guard will stop you.”
“Really?” The chuckle became a full-on laugh. “The Guard couldn’t even stop me from taking this from Celestia’s own archives!” A large book slid out from under the leader’s cloak, and he waved it around in one hoof. “And with this, I can unleash the power of the cup! And the winds will scour Canterlot from the face of the world!”
With a shrug he added, “Of course that means all of you will probably die. But look on the bright side.” The lantern light and dim museum lights created unpleasant reflections on the cult leader’s toothy grin. “You’ll beat the rush.”
“FLASHBANG OUT!”
Night Light couldn’t teleport. He’d never had enough power or skill to be eligible for Celestia’s School. But he did have a love for the night and for astronomy, and that love had given him his cutie mark and his special talent- namely, bringing light into dark places without his own eyesight being affected.
That, combined with the standard-issue guard spell to blind and dazzle enemies, allowed him for a split second to light up the dim museum hall brighter than the hottest, most cloud-free midsummer day.
The screams of suddenly blinded ponies covered up the sound of thin wood paneling smashing out. Night Light threw himself down from the ceiling, his magic catching the grimoire as it slipped from the cult leader’s fetlock, then snagging Eurus’s cup off its pedestal. Trailing both objects behind him, Night Light galloped through the crowd, ducking for cover behind a wall display.
“Good work, Nighty!” Twilight Velvet, along with Stormbringer and his pegasi agents, had hit the floor and closed their eyes the instant Night Light had shouted his warning. Now, with quick bursts of magic, she cut the nets to pieces, letting the pegasi and griffons wriggle free.
The two leaders stared at each other.
“Truce?” Stormbringer asked.
“Truce,” Guilder agreed. “How many are there?”
“Unless more are hiding,” Night Light shouted from his marginal cover, “exactly thirty-seven, mostly unicorns.”
“That’s not good,” Stormbringer said. “But the question is, how good are they at-“
Half a dozen bolts of magic spattered against the displays surrounding the center of the hall.
“Blast them!” the cult leader shouted, still rubbing his eyes. “Blast them all! Don’t let any of them escape!”
“Take cover!” Stormbringer shouted.
“To the high ground!” Guilder added. “Up to the galleries!”
Trailing narrowly missed shots cast by half-blinded unicorns, the flyers leaped up and out of the line of fire, leaving Twilight Velvet alone in the lantern-light. A moment later she blinked out of existence, appearing in a flash of light next to Night Light, making the space behind the display even more cramped.
“Well, you were right!” she shouted, leaning out far enough to send a couple of magic bolts out into the rapidly returning darkness. The shots came back with compound interest.
Night Light, his own horn lit up like a flashlight illuminating the open grimoire in his hooves, flipped from page to page. “About what?” he asked.
“We should have run away!” Velvet said. “I wasn’t expecting thirty-some unicorns!” She fired off a couple more spells, then ducked as several return shots sent splinters flying from the display case.
“No, you were right!” Night Light said. “If they get their hooves on this there won’t be anyplace to run to!”
“But we need to get Princess Celestia!” Velvet shouted, trading more shots with the cultists. In one of the galleries Stormbringer’s pegasi were trying to build storm clouds from the small moisture in the air in the hall, while overhead the griffons dodged spells, swooped down and clubbed their claws at any head they could reach. Neither effort had much effect. “Or somebody! We’re outmatched!”
“Maybe not,” Night Light said, having found the page he was looking for. “We have one thing they don’t.”
“What?” Velvet looked at Night Light, then at the large golden object next to him. He’d stuck a hoof through one of the Cup’s flame-winged handles. “Wha- you can’t be serious!”
“Simple math,” Night Light said. “If they get the Cup, Canterlot is destroyed. But we can’t win a fight on our own, and if we lose, they get the Cup. Either way, zero chance of success. But if we use the cup, that’s an X factor in the equation. It might just give us a chance.”
“But you can’t use Eurus’s Cup! You don’t know how!”
“I didn’t attend Celestia’s School,” Night Light said, grinning manically, “but I did get straight A’s in magic kindergarten!” The light from his horn grew brighter as he read aloud:
Boreas the North freezes hearts with his pride,
With Eurus the East the war-chargers ride,
Notus the South brings the chaos and storm,
Zephyrus the West makes the fields ripe and warm,
Aeoli! Aeoli! The winds I command
To strike down my foes wherever they stand!
Aeoli! Aeoli! I bid you obey
And subdue all those who stand in my way!
From the first word the cup began to glow, and the instant the second line was complete wind began to pour out from the bowl. By the fourth line his immaculately combed mane was a tangle; by the sixth it was blown straight out behind his head.
And with the last word of the spell, the cup erupted with a blast that threw Night Light up into the ceiling, his head crashing through one of the tiles. He flopped back to the floor next to Twilight Velvet, into a suddenly calm pocket of air just under the hurricane bursting from the Cup.
That was, as it happened, the one calm spot in the entire room. The rest of the great hall was utter pandemonium. The griffons and pegasi, caught by the winds, tried to ride them out, appearing to fly backwards as the same gusts that kept them airborne pushed them in circles overhead. The cultists, on the other hoof, got slammed against walls and displays, blown into the ceiling by their cloaks, or sent skidding across the floor, hooves leaving grooves behind them.
In mere moments the Cult of the Aeoli had been rendered helpless…
… and then the wind really picked up.
The large, heavy displays in the center of the room began to rattle. Glass case covers flew off, shattering under air pressure alone, along with more and more panels of the skylight overhead. Bits of trim from the walls and ceiling snapped of, joining the pegasi and griffons in their swirl around the room.
“That’s enough, Nighty!” Velvet shouted. “You can turn it off now!”
Night Light shook his head, trying to get the cobwebs out. “I don’t know how!”
“WHAT?” Velvet stomped a hoof. “You cast a spell you don’t know how to stop? And you claim you passed magic kindergarten??”
“I was in a hurry, all right?!?”
Velvet pulled the grimoire over and flipped a couple of pages. “There’s no counter-incantation!” she shouted over the noise. “It just says that once loosed, the winds seek their freedom! And only a true wizard can tame them once again!”
“Great!!” Night Light shouted. “So you’ve got this, right?”
“No!” Velvet shouted back. “Graduating from Celestia’s school doesn’t make you a wizard! It just means you’re good at using the magic you have!”
“Isn’t that what makes a wizard?”
“No! Wizards are really powerful ponies! If I had powerful magic I wouldn’t be working as a cub reporter!!”
“Well, we’re all we’ve got!” Night Light shouted back. His horn lit up again, and he shoved his hoof back into the handle of the Cup. Closing his eyes, he focused on trying to grab the wind in his magic, grab and haul it back as if it were a rope or something.
And… he felt it, but it wasn’t a rope. It was a snake, something long and thick and extremely strong, and from the first moment he knew it didn’t like being held. He flew backwards into the wall, the Cup clattering on the floor in front of him.
“Nighty!!” Velvet shouted, grabbing his head with one hoof and lifting it up.
Night Light shook himself free. “I felt it,” he said. “If I were a bit stronger…” His horn lit up again, and again he shoved his hoof into the handle, his magic grabbing the tail of the wild east wind.
This time he was prepared, and the wind didn’t buck him loose at the first go. He pulled, and it pulled back, and every time it pulled the wind slipped through his magical grip. After a few tugs back and forth, he had the sensation that whatever his magic was holding, it was tapering narrower. He was getting near its tail.
“It’s… getting… away!” he shouted. “Help me!”
Then he felt a second magic overlying his own, joining his improvised spell, adding its power to his. The wind tugged, then tugged again. It slipped a little the first time, but no further. It thrashed hard enough that the Cup began shaking around his hoof, but somehow, even with his eyes closed, Night Light could feel the wind stopped, held, captured.
The other magic shifted, sliding down, then back up again. “We need to pull it back through the Cup,” Velvet shouted. “I’ll help, but the Cup only responds to you! Focus on the Cup!”
Night Light didn’t waste words with a reply. He slid down the tail of the wind with his magic, sliding into the Cup itself, feeling it like he’d never felt anything in any of his spells before. “I think I’ve got it!” he shouted. “Pull on three!”
“Right!” Velvet shouted. “One, two, THREE!”
They pulled. The wind struggled, but it couldn’t break free.
“Again! One, two, THREE!”
The howling wind softened, allowing the two to hear things clattering out of the air and onto the floor.
“Again! One, two, THREE!”
The calm pocket vanished as the head of the wind lashed and slapped at their faces, struggling to regain its freedom.
“Last time! One, two, THREE!”
They pulled.
They felt the east wind sink back into the bowl of Eurus’s Cup.
They felt something snap back in place on top of it.
Night Light opened his eyes. There was Twilight Velvet, a hoof stuck through the other handle of Eurus’s cup, leaning heavily against it, obviously exhausted.
“My horn!...” Night Light realized he didn’t have to shout anymore, and in a much softer voice he began again. “My horn really hurts…” His throat hurt almost as much from the shouting.
“Mine, too…” Twilight Velvet moaned. “But… but we did it…”
“Hey!” That was Stormbreaker’s voice, calling out from overhead. “You civilians! Are you all right?”
Velvet sat up. “He’s not a civilian!” she shouted hoarsely. “He’s a member of the Royal Guard!”
Night Light’s horn sparked and sputtered. Wincing in pain, he reached into the pocket of his now very dusty civilian shirt and pulled out the badge case he’d checked out of stores. “That’s right,” he croaked. “And whoever’s supposed to be under arrest… well, you are. So don’t try anything.”
“Young pony,” Guilder the Griffon said, landing next to what remained of their display-case shelter and helping Velvet to her hooves with one claw, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
As Night Light had expected, the sergeant had not been happy to see him. He was even less happy at having to call out multiple shifts of the palace guard to help take the Cult of the Aeoli into custody. However, since all of this was being done under the watchful (if drowsy) eye of Princess Celestia herself, he restricted himself to grumbling about improper procedure and promising weeks of remedial training to prevent any future recurrence.
Meanwhile, Princess Celestia went around mending one broken display after another with her magic. “We’ll have everything back where it belongs before dawn,” she said, yawning midway through.
“Including Eurus’s Cup?” Velvet asked.
“Especially the Cup,” Celestia said. “After all, if the Cup disappeared from the display suddenly, other ponies might suspect that it’s more than just a big lump of gold.”
“What?” Night Light gasped. “But Princess! With all due respect, that’s an incredibly dangerous artifact- and I should know!”
“Of course it is,” Celestia agreed. “And so are two-thirds of the other items in this exhibit.” She smiled as she continued, “You see, if I lock it up in the palace or something, then every pony will think it’s something powerful, and they’ll come looking for it, even if they don’t know what it does.”
“Which happens,” Stormbringer grumbled, “about once every three weeks.”
“Really? Velvet asked. “I never hear anything about that.”
“You shouldn’t,” Stormbringer said. “That’s why the S in SMILE stands for secret.”
Velvet’s face fell. “Ooooh,” she said. “Does that mean my story-“
“You won’t be filing any story,” Stormbringer said. “In fact, once one of my unicorn agents gets here with Reflection Deflection mirrors, neither of you will remember there was a story to file.”
“Actually, Stormbringer,” Celestia said, “I think you should hold off on that for now.”
The dark-furred pegasus in the black suit spluttered. “P-p-princess,” he said, “they know far too much!”
“They know how to seal an Aeolus once it’s loose,” Celestia pointed out. “I’m the only other pony in Equestria who’s ever done that. And the next time this happens I might not be available.” She smiled at Night Light and Twilight Velvet. “Besides, I’m sure we can trust them not to talk.”
Stormbringer harrumphed. “Well,” he said, “I accept your judgment, Princess. Under protest.”
Celestia nodded, then turned her attention to Guilder, standing nearby. “I’m afraid I can’t spare you, though,” she said.
“Believe me,” Guilder sighed, “there’s nothing about this caper I particularly care to remember. I still can’t believe I was played like a bit of loose yarn.”
“You think you’re embarrassed?” Stormbringer growled. “You’re only a crime lord. I run the largest branch of a secret intelligence unit. And I got played. And I don’t get to have my memory erased until I retire.”
“Well, the good news is,” Celestia said with a glance for the unicorns being carried off by the palace guards, “the ponies who fooled you both won’t know they ever did it.”
“After we’ve thoroughly questioned them to figure out how they did it,” Stormbringer agreed. “And how they knew about SMILE in the first place.”
“And in light of the situation,” Celestia continued, looking at Guilder, “I think your loss of memory after this will be soothed by the bags of bits and jewels you’ll have looted from the royal treasury.”
Guilder blinked. “I will?” he asked.
Celestia smiled. “A lot of money and a short head start,” she added. “Of course you won’t remember how you got it, and you’ll never be able to return to Canterlot, but something tells me you won’t care.”
“Of course not,” Guilder said. “Money’s money. So long as I get it, who cares where it came from?”
“Well, that’s a happy ending for everyone else, I suppose,” Velvet said. “But what about me? I haven’t turned in a story in three days! I’m going to lose my job! This was going to be my big break! Roving star reporter status! Foreign lands! Excitement, adventure, intrigue!”
“Oh, I think all those things could be arranged,” Celestia smiled. “After all, I believe SMILE could use some extra agents.”
“Agents plural?” Stormbringer asked, looking at Night Light.
“Well,” Celestia said, gesturing at the two young unicorns, “you can’t expect me to break up the set.”
“Oh, yes!” Velvet smiled, quickly wrapping a foreleg around Night Light and drawing him close. “Why, you couldn’t possibly expect me to do without this brave, intelligent, handsome guardspony.”
Night Light blushed. “Oh… um… when you put it that way…” His hooves shuffled of their own accord. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind… so long as I can continue my night classes,” he added hurriedly. “I wouldn’t want to give up accounting, after all.”
Twilight Velvet giggled and squeezed him tighter. “That’s my brave Nighty,” she said.
Author's Note
I originally wanted this to be a spy thriller- The Pony With One Left Horseshoe was my working title- but no plot would gel until it became a heist caper.
I also wanted Night Light to have an accountancy competency moment (accoupetency?) by looking over Twilight Velvet's evidence and finding errors in math that led to a new revelation, but I simply couldn't think of any math that would be involved in a heist like this. So, although Night Light gets to be brave and (eventually) daring, he does come off a bit much as Watson to Holmes, but thankfully not as dumb as Hastings to Poirot.
In fact, having written this, it's really interesting how much alike these two are. Both are reasonably intelligent (though Velvet is faster at making connections and more self-starting, whereas Night Light would be happy in almost any repetitive groove you put him in). Both are brave (though Velvet, especially young Velvet, is foolhardy). Both prefer orderly, logical, tidy things. And both are almost instantly attracted to each other.
Believe it or not, I'd forgotten the derivation of the name Boreas. I'd decided from the beginning (back when this was going to be a spy thriller) that the McGuffin was going to be a replacement for the idol that had made the griffon kingdom possible, except one that inspired martial ardor instead of cool pride. But when I re-read the Greek myths about the four winds, I realized instantly what the climax of this story absolutely had to be. The rest of the structure of the story, of course, followed from there.
This was fun to write, and I'm a lot happier with it than, for example, my recent production for Haycartes' Pluperfect Method. That said, I've got no plans whatever for a sequel, so who knows if I ever come back to this? (Anybody else who wants to continue the further adventures of SMILE Agent Velvet and Guard Private Light, feel free.)
OH- and I didn't have time to beg artwork for a cover and couldn't find anything previously made that quite fit the mode of adventure-seeking Velvet dragging poor Nighty along for the ride. The best I could find was what's on the story now, which doesn't fit, but it is what it is, for now.
P. S. If you like my writing and want me to set aside more time for doing it, drop a monthly pledge on my Patreon, or give me a one-time tip on KoFi! Thanks!
