Bitter Symphony

Two months in the Ivy Seminary.

As the bell rang, Indium shuffled his hooves out of the lecture hall, funneling out through the doors as with all of the remaining pages. Hoisting his saddlebags filled with notes and books up, he let out a small yawn as he eventually made it out of the bottleneck and to the main corridors.

As usual, he took the farthest staircase of the accommodation block up, glancing about for anypony as he approached. Seeing that the coast was clear, he steadily surged up the stairs to the third storey.

His room was the third on the left. He extracted his key from his saddlebags with a stretch of his right wing and inserted it into the lock. It was a loose fit, but it did the job. When he placed his forehoof on the knob—

Slime.

Indium sighed. He knew his day couldn’t be without any incident. Not when the other pages were snide in their remarks of him being a farming peasant, or when they were more daring with so-called ‘pranks’ like these.

He retrieved a handkerchief from his saddlebag, wrapping it around the knob before twisting it. He pushed the door open, throwing the dirtied handkerchief onto the laundry basket in the corner and stepped into his—

Clang!

Indium craned his neck down in horror. He had accidentally knocked over a bucket filled with the same slimy sap that now covered the floor. Cursing, he flapped his wings, lifting himself up onto the air and tossed his saddlebags onto his study table. He flew straight to the nearest sink and tried to wash the sap off his offending hoof. It took minutes before the viscous substance was forced out of his fur.

Indium exhaled, grabbing a set of cleaning equipment off the janitor’s closet by the staircase landing. Using a mop, he began purging the slimy substance out of his room and into the drain along the common corridor.

Hours had passed. The afternoon sun soon faded into a glowing orange orb on the edge of the horizon. After returning the mop back to the janitor’s closet, he returned to his room, finding it to be perfectly spotless. Closing the door, he rested his weary self on his study chair, where he couldn’t help but smile at a job well done.

Gazing about, his eyes moved from observing the picturesque view of the compound, to his humble wooden desk neatly organized with notes and stationary, to his bed, equipped with gray sheets, a pillow and a blanket. He felt a tinge of pride emanating from his heart, as he realized that everything in his room—everything he owned—was a culmination of all of his hard work and determination. It wasn’t much, but it was his.

He opened the drawer by his study table, revealing a small, monochromatic image of his mother, himself…and his father by the family farm. He stared at the picture for several, long moments, as memories of his bygone days working in the fields seeped into his mind.

“Mum…” he mouthed. “I’ll be back. And dad.”

A knock came from the door.

Indium immediately shoved the drawer shut and left the comfort of his seat. He headed for the door, opening it.

“Ah! You scared me ye know?” A young earth pony stallion stood outside, his coat matching the color of green vegetation and his mane the color of brown dirt. His orange pupils returned Indium’s gaze.

“Sorry,” Indium replied respectfully, though his body visibly tensed at the unknown face. “What do you want? Wait—you’re not the one who poured some slimy substance on my door knob, right?”

“N-No…I didn’t!” the young stallion admitted, averting his eyes away, “I was busy with the homework from Sir Raven!” He paused as he tried to compose himself. “But uh, anyways, you’re Indium Indigo right? The one that got top marks last test on motic combinations?”

“Yes?” Indium frowned with suspicion. “And you are…?”

“Page Medical At-Atlas.” He coughed into a hoof. “I was wondering if you were free for a bit. I got stuck on a question that I can't just quite parse.”

“Parse?” Indium tilted his head, finding Medical holding a few papers against his chest. “Alright, you can come in, but no funny business, okay?”

Medical nodded, walking in with Indium. “Right, thanks. Sorry to disturb you on…eh, this time.”

“It’s…okay,” Indium replied slowly, trotting over to his desk. “Can you please close and lock the door behind you?”

“Cen do,” Medical agreed, exemplifying a rather thick northern accent that Indium noted, locking the door behind them.

Indium sat on his bed next to the desk. “Anyways, what’s the problem?”

Medical reached into his small saddlebag and pulled out a piece of paper, filled with scribbles of mathematical equations and symbols. “The mathematical derivation of the runic gauntlet’s motic capacity.”

“That shouldn’t be too bad,” Indium replied, gesturing for Medical to sit on his study chair. “You can start by linking the motic volumetric capacity to the volume of the motic battery.”

“Thanks.” Medical took a seat on the chair and pulled out a pen, beginning to write using his left hoof. “And we can ignore environmental effects, right? I do know that at least.”

“Fundamentally,” Indium continued, looking at his scribbles, “you can assume the capacity is based on the standard of one basic rune, so it’s easier to calculate. Then you just have to consider the relative volumetric capacitances of different components using their purity as weights and sum them up.”

“So that’s about…eh, five variables to keep track of,” Medical noted, continuing to write.

Indium waited until Medical had pieced the equations for the variables together and rearranged them accordingly. “Yes, but you can just do it methodically; step by step,” Indium advised, pointing at different sections of his notes. “Start here to here and then here.”

“Damn,” Medical shook his head, “and here I was hoping to get by with just small arms.”

“Small arms…?” Indium frowned. Something had clicked in his mind. “Wait…you are the Page Medical Atlas, the markstallion at the range last week!”

Medical blinked, his cheeks reddening at the praise. “Erh, yep! The one!”

“You were amazing!” Indium exclaimed in awe. “I could never set my gunsight straight!”

“I’m sure it’s a matter of practice,” Medical consoled. “Thanks again for the help. Wouldn’t have figured it out.”

“I’m happy to help, Medical,” Indium said, smiling. “At least you’re not like those idiots who think they can push me around or pour sap or whatever that was in my room and get away with it.”

“Ah, you mean the nobles,” Medical remarked, packing his new notes into his saddlebags. “Of course, it’s rare to find outsiders like you here in the Ivy Seminary at times.”

Indium froze at the word ‘outsiders’, before quickly composing himself by clearing his throat. “Well,” he turned to check the clock on his desk, “I’ll see you around for dinner soon.”

“...Dinner?” Medical asked, standing up.

Indium stood up likewise. “No, I’m just going to the canteen,” Indium replied. “I’m famished.”

“...Well, do you want to go somewhere nice? I heard there’s a decent resto nearby,” Medical proposed, winking at him.

“Uhh…” Indium swallowed uncomfortably, his mind considering the amount of bits he had to budget out for the week. “I think I’m good with the canteen, thanks. You can just go on without me. It’s fine.” He feigned a weak smile.

“...Oh come on, take it from me. You helped me with a derivation!” Medical offered cheerfully, tapping Indium on his back. “If not, you alright with me paying for your dinner?”

“You are…paying for me…? Why?” Indium stuttered, his expression etched with greater discomfort. “Just because I helped you with one question…?”

“Listen okay,” Medical placed a hoof on his withers assuringly, “It’s nothing, alright?”

Indium shivered at the touch, glancing about uneasily, trying to avoid Medical’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, come on!” Medical grinned, opening the door and politely gesturing him out to follow. “Be sure to lock the door.”

It wasn’t long before the duo, still dressed in page robes, approached the restaurant just across the road from the seminary compound. Medical grinned as he strung Indium along, whose eyes tried to acclimate to a luxury he could have never imagined. Flashing neon lights and signposts dotted the walls and perimeter of the restaurant which was definitely catered to the upper echelons of society, with an attempt to be seen as hip and chic. Indium cringed at the flagrant waste of electricity that could have been used to power so many rural communities back home.

“You okay, Indium?” Medical asked.

Indium blinked, trying to quickly fashion a decent reply. “No, I’m just a little cold. Thanks for asking. But…uh, are you sure you can…treat me? We can still head back.”

“I can,” Medical reassured as they stepped in, passing high tables and chairs catering to diners who intended for an al fresco dining experience, finding themselves in the cool interior of the restaurant with fans and yellow lights. “It’s not like I’m going to always drag you here. Plus, it’s not that expensive.”

Indium silently headed in, finding eloquently-dressed diners reminiscent of the middle and upper classes and waiters in suits and ties. Despite the chatter in the air, the volume within was respectfully low and sufficiently private.

Eventually, Medical led him to a pair of cushioned seats near one of the windows, grabbing a menu from the table. “So, what do you like?”

Indium retrieved the menu from his side, giving the menu a cursory look. The numbers attached to every item appeared daunting and extreme. They would otherwise cripple his carefully-planned budget for several days, if not weeks. “Uh…” Indium scratched his mane uneasily, his eyes darting around, attempting to find the cheapest possible item without embarrassing his new ‘friend’. “I’ll…just go for the…mushroom classic sandwich.”

“...Mushroom classic? Good choice,” Medical grinned, waving a waiter over, “I’ll have a daisy, fettuccine…mushroom sandwich and a mushroom classic for my good friend here.”

As the waiter bowed and left with their order, Indium couldn’t help but feel anxious and insecure. Was this some kind of trap to guilt trip him into doing more favors? Was this a scheme to gain his trust and backstab him later? Why would he—

“So, how did you end up wanting to be a Knight?”

“Um…” Indium shook his head, attempting to snap himself out of his daze. “I want to help those who are taken advantage of by heretics. How about you?”

Medical smiled. “Wanted to follow in my grandfather’s and grandmother’s hoofsteps,” he regaled, his eyes dreamy. “Great ponies, I heard. The two of them were Knights. A crime fighting duo, as my father liked to put it. So I want to do good too. Do some good directly.”

“Oh,” Indium smiled weakly, “I think we’ll get along very well. I believe in that too.”

“So Mystics for you?” Medical asked, his tone inquisitive. “Will be a hard journey, though.”

Indium gritted his teeth. “It’ll be nothing after what I have been through.”

Medical leaned back into his seat. “Well, that’s why I chose the Vigilants. So good luck on that,” he commented, seemingly oblivious to Indium’s reaction.

Indium’s heart seethed. “Thank you.”

“Gentlestallions.” The waiter reappeared with the food, both at the same time. “One mushroom classic and one DFM sandwich. Enjoy your meal!”

“Thanks.” Medical nodded, prompting the waiter to excuse themselves. But he didn’t dig into his food yet, instead he gestured for Indium to start first.

“Thanks Medical,” Indium bowed his head slightly, facing the freshly toasted sandwich garnished with a dash of ground black peppercorns and parsley, “for the meal. I really appreciate this.” He hoisted the warm sandwich with his hooves and sank his teeth into it.

Indium would have cried at the multitude of dimensions of flavor bursting into his mouth, of flavors he would never have imagined of tasting. The sublime textures of exotic ingredients sent waves of ecstasy from his tongue to his brain. He slowly chewed, savoring every delectable bite.

“You look like me taking my first bite of mushroom soup.” Medical chuckled at the sight. “It’s good isn't it?”

Indium swallowed. “It’s really good!” Indium said between mouthfuls.

Medical chuckled as he joined in on savoring his own sandwich, relishing every moment of how Indium chewed on every mouthful of his sandwich. Before long, the two had finished their sandwiches, with Indium going the extra mile to recover the few microscopic breadcrumbs that dotted his plate. Medical could only laugh at the sight, before indicating for the bill.

After paying the bill with a few hefty banknotes from Medical’s pockets, they exited the restaurant, their bellies full. “I really, really appreciate the experience, Medical,” Indium said, bowing. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for the company as well,” Medical replied as he trotted across the road and into the seminary compound. “But we better head back; I have some work to catch up on.”

“No problem.” Indium nodded, trailing him, “I also have some things I have to settle tonight. Oh, by the way, where’s your room?”

“Second storey, sixth from the right.” Medical stopped and pointed with a hoof. “Room sixteen.”

Indium nodded. “Cheers, I’ll be sure to look for you if I need tips on handling firearms.” He smiled, noting the position of his room mentally as he stepped into the main corridor. “See y—”

“Oi, peasant!” A voice interrupted him. “You dropped something.”

Indium spun towards the voice, causing him to lose his balance, slipping on the grease-covered floor.

“Ah geez, you alright?” Medical scurried over at the sound of trouble, offering a hoof to Indium.

Indium ignored his helping hoof, choosing instead to hover over the sabotaged floor with the aid of his wings as he tried to resist the pain.

“Good evening, Nightshade,” Indium spat, his voice filled with contempt, facing the gray coated earth pony before him.

“We see that you have…enjoyed our little present for you.” Another pony, a yellow pegasus slightly taller than Indium, approached from his back. “As an example of what peasants should be doing instead of playing knights in the city.”

“Core Sprite,” Indium stated, malice in his voice. “You won’t get off scot-free for what you have done.”

“Oh really?” Nightshade burst out laughing, as did Core. “Unfortunately for you, a peasant’s testimony will not hold water against Sir Raven’s better judgment.”

“Peasant?” Medical spoke up, making his presence known.

“Medical?” Core blinked at the sight. “What are you doing with this filthy little peasant?”

“Oh, he helped with some homework problems.” Medical stepped towards Core sharply. “I brought him out for dinner as thanks.”

“Mathematical issues?” Nightshade repeated. "And you're telling me that this illiterate peasant can solve your mathematical issues?"

"Watch your mouth, Nightshade." Indium's voice grew dangerously soft.

“Can you derive equations?” Medical challenged, shifting his attention to Nightshade.

“Deriving equations should be left to us, not to some untested peasant crawling in,” Nightshade fired back, moving closer to Medical.

“Yeah, and your test scores sure do reflect that,” Medical commented sarcastically, “I suggest if you are a noble, to punch up instead of down.”

“With a peasant?” Nightshade asked, rolling his eyes. “I’ll rather remain stupid. Enjoy your little peasant pet then. I have better things to do than dealing with worms like him."

“I agree,” Core scowled. “Goodbye peasant. Enjoy your little puny company while it lasts.” With that, Nightshade and Core turned and left.

Medical sighed, shaking his head. “You alright?”

Indium dusted himself off. “I’m alright.” He checked his surroundings, finding no one else but Medical along the corridor. “But…Medical,” he whispered, “why did you defend me?”

“You helped me,” Medical answered without missing a beat.

"B-But but...you have already repaid me," Indium stuttered. "Why go out of your way to risk them targeting you, too?"

Medical chuckled. “Why not? I know now who not to trust later down the line.”

Indium's expression morphed into a small smile. “Thanks, Medical.” He extended his hoof. “Friends?”

Medical took it.

“Friends.”