“Here it is, Your Majesty.” I opened the heavy oak door and gestured with a hoof. There was some dust, but the smoke from the fires around Canterlot that still smoldered had thankfully not crept their choking way down the stairwell from the Council’s records building.
She stepped through into the basement. The large room was aglow in a warm yellow light. I’d already had the torches lit prior to her arrival. The basement lacked any form of natural light, a consequence of Mana’s paranoia over his creation being discovered before he could fully boast of it and the revolution it would bring. The stone clicked and clattered under the Princess’s golden horseshoes when she entered.
She stopped after only a few steps. One didn’t need to walk far into the cavernous room to see it. Her eyes widened, ever so slightly. Somepony who hadn’t served her for the last twenty years wouldn’t have noticed. She gazed, almost hungrily, at the hard magic carved into the stone floor before her. I will admit, it was a gaze most of the unicorns held too when they first saw it. Such a magical wonder hadn’t been seen in generations, mayhaps since the days of Star Swirl and the Founders.
“So this is it, is it? I had hoped he was going to show me it once it was ready.” Her voice was quiet and laden with sadness.
“Yes, Your Majesty, so had I.” I gestured to the deep gouge in the floor where the firing gem would have been set. “The Council informs me there was still quite a bit of work that needed to be done before it was complete. Mana… he didn’t leave any notes. None of them know how to finish it. They—They don’t think it can be now without him.”
The Princess walked closer to the enormous rune, careful not to disturb the rough chalk outline that had been scribbled on the stone in the places that hadn’t yet been carved. She smiled wistfully. “No, he never would have allowed others to finish it. He was stubborn, Flare. Stubborn and prideful. I should have seen it sooner and done more to correct it.”
I rushed, almost instinctively, to defend her, even from her own criticism. “No, Your Majesty. You couldn’t have foreseen all this!”
She looked back to me. “Couldn’t I? Seven hundred years and I cannot spot a prideful stallion on his way to his own destruction? Star Swirl acted just like that. So did Captain Air Clipper.” She turned back to the rune. “No, Flare. This was easily preventable. I was just too arrogant to see.”
I was shocked by her declaration. “W-What?”
“Don’t you remember when I nominated him? Everypony was against it. The nobles were outraged. The newspapers and poets wrote passionate rebuttals. And don’t think I didn’t hear the whispers from the halls of the Castle. No, the whole of the Realm opposed a pegasus as Archmage, but I thought I knew better. I thought my will could override that of Equestria.” She laughed, coldly. “Mayhaps he wasn’t the only pony with some pride and stubbornness in this city.”
“But you were right. He was a magnificent archmage.” My voice had grown quiet. Its feeble attempt to defend her now barely above a whisper. For I was the one who had led the opposition to Mana Spring’s appointment. I had counseled her for an entire fortnight against doing it. I could read the tea leaves. No one liked the stallion. Not even the Council he was supposed to lead. He was a bitter, spiteful pony who would never see the joys and wonders of friendship’s magic. But his otherworldly gifts for the hard magics overwhelmed any personality flaws he may have had, at least in the Princess’s eyes.
I knew just what a dangerous road she had walked us down, as did the whole Privy Council, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree with her melancholy in her presence here and now, and they would have never defied her immortal wisdom either then or now. I take no pleasure in being right. There is simply no joy in proving an alicorn wrong. There is only sadness and grief when you stare at the horrifying results.
There was a faint smile from her. “Yes, he was. But we were not ready for that magnificence just yet. We may never be.” She turned back around to face me. “Flare?”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
In an instant, the hunger was gone. She began to walk back toward the stairwell, seemingly letting the rune and its now lost potential fade from her mind. I duly followed. “Please consult with the Ministry of Royal Affairs. I wish to schedule a tour of Equestria at the earliest convenience. I fear I have badly misjudged things these last few years. I’ve grown too complacent here in Canterlot. I need to correct that, at once.”
I was stunned. It had been decades—centuries mayhaps—since the Princess had done such a thing openly. There would be significant planning and arduous preparation to come. I eagerly looked forward to it and was already formulating the schedule in my mind when we arrived at the door that led back up to the lobby. I looked back at the now useless carvings in the floor.
I hesitated, but I had to know. I just had to know. “Do you really think he could have done it—make us all alicorns, I mean?” I finally asked her as she took her first step up the stairs.
She looked back at me for a second, as if pondering the answer. “He was a brilliant Archmage and will go down as one of our greatest. If anypony ever could have, it was him.” She looked up at the unfinished rune. What wonders would it have brought Equestia had we not killed its creator? “But I do not think it would have been the Golden Age he dreamt of. Far from it.”
