3

===

Electricity hummed through Crescent Moon’s house the moment Nova pressed a button. In the darkness of the room, a single light source turned on, displaying moving pictures while the speakers bounced sound across the curving walls.

Crescent trotted up to the other end of the sofa, holding a cup. He placed it in front of her, walked away, then returned with another. Nova peered at the brown liquid contents, sniffed its sweet aroma, then slurped the beverage.

“What is this?” she asked. “It’s good, it tastes familiar… I just can’t remember what it is.”

“Hot chocolate,” he replied, to which Nova’s eyes lit up. Crescent watched Nova take another gulp, leaving a brown stain above her mouth. “Careful about burning your tongue. You’re drinking it like it’s your first time tasting chocolate.”

“I’ve had chocolate before,” she said, her upper lip still stained brown. Crescent chuckled and gestured to her muzzle, making her blush and wipe the substance off with her hoof. “There’s just no such thing as ‘chocolate’ on Fillyan. The average diet consists of little sugar and a lot of carbohydrates. One of common foods is this wonderful pastry called a ‘muffin’—”

“—Go back to the news,” said Crescent, turning away from her. Nova frowned, but she reached over to the dial remote, turned the mechanism a few notches, then pressed the large center button. The screen went from portraying a popular Canterlotian drama to a single stallion dressed in formal attire, text skimming above and below him. The two of them watched in silence for a minute, Nova casually sipping her hot chocolate.

“Nothing related to Starswirl,” she replied dismissively. “I only see the typical stories, like the results of an election or an uprising on a planet a thousand parsecs away.” She put the cup down and turned to Crescent, whose eyes were skimming the text as fast as possible. “Why is there so little coverage of the trial, if he is as infamous as you said?”

“‘Secretly infamous,’ remember?”

Nova shot him a puzzled look. “That still doesn’t make much sense.”

“Fine,” he said, frowning, “but to answer your question, Global Security is likely containing the flow of information. An entire courtroom filled with thousands of equines would be a horrible idea. There have been some riots in the past when some equines disagreed with the court’s ruling, or were downright furious with the suspect or even the ruling council. But if only a small number of equines show, then the news would not be ‘adequate’ to Security’s tastes. If anything, they want to keep news of the trial as minimal as they can, just enough to keep away radical emotional response. But they want enough there to spread the word and discourage similar actions.”

Glancing around her neat and organized surroundings, Nova asked, “When is the trial, again? Lounging around all day has made me lose track of time.”

“Tomorrow,” he muttered. Nova almost spat out her drink, coughing while bringing a hoof to her muzzle.

“It’s been six days already!?” she said, holding her forehead. “I… I must have really lost track of time.”

“Starswirl will stand before the court in the afternoon. It is an open trial—unless the officials have changed it—and perhaps we will be given permission to go.”

“Perhaps?” Nova repeated, staring at Crescent. “We should definitely be able to go, if it’s open.”

Crescent pointed to the nearest window with his hoof. “Not if we’re still under house arrest, we aren’t.”

Nova turned her head around to follow Crescent’s hoof, and spotted an idle officer out in the dead of night, still maintaining a perimeter around the house. “Well,” she said, looking back, “do you think we could ask them?”

“If we act unruly enough... then yes, we could right now. But we’ve already agreed to be as cooperative as possible. So, with that in mind, we will wait until they drop off our daily supplies in the morning, then see if we’re given clearance to go.” Crescent peered back at the screen, listening to the news stallion. “After all, we may have to participate in the trial. That is the entire reason for our house arrest, if you’ve forgotten.”

“So we’re still playing the waiting game?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

Without glancing in her direction, Crescent murmured, “Do you have a better idea?”

Nova did not answer, instead electing to drink the rest of her hot chocolate in silence.

* * *

The next morning, Nova descended the stairs groggily. She saw Crescent seated at his kitchen table, drinking out of a cup.

“How well did you sleep?” he asked.

“Not well.” She took the chair next to Crescent and poured herself a drink. “I assume this is quarter-caffeinated?” When he nodded, Nova smiled and took a sip. “What kept you up?”

“Anxiety,” he answered.

“Likewise.” She gulped down the drink, letting the caffeine surge through her body. “I was worried about Starswirl and afraid for what we may have to do at the trial.”

“Well, I’m worried about all of the project members.” He wiped his eyes. “If this trial for any reason doesn’t work out well, all of us will be affected. Starswirl could be sentenced to death if he’s somehow found guilty of treason, and dozens of equines—including me—could see time in prison.” Crescent placed his cup against the counter and sighed. “And if they go after every equine involved, I can’t imagine—”

Three sharp knocks came from the adjacent room, and Crescent immediately stopped speaking. His sleepy eyes and drooping ears became alert as he stood up. He nodded towards Nova briefly, and they went to the front door. Once it opened to Crescent’s ID tag, they saw three adorned officers standing in triangular formation outside.

“Crescent Moon, Nova Sparkle,” greeted the closest unicorn, “you have been granted permission to attend Starswirl Stabledon’s trial. There are enough members already attending, so you will not be required to give a brief account to the court.”

Nova let out a sigh. Glancing at each other, they both nodded. “We will go.”

Silently, Nova and Crescent went back inside to dress in their proper Canterlotian attire, and walked out surrounded by guards. Still, Nova bit her lip, then turned to the highest-ranked officer. “Could you… give me a moment? I haven’t been able to use magic for an entire week, and I would like to cast a spell to test my horn’s health.”

“Fine,” he replied. “You may cast a basic-level, non-violent spell.” He brought his gaze to Crescent. “The same goes to you.”

Smiling, Nova shut her eyes. Light radiated from her horn as the wind picked up around them before dispersing. Crescent had chosen to materialize water out of thin air, letting a raindrop hit the sidewalk.

“Is everything satisfactory?” the officer said.

As soon as Nova and Crescent nodded, the officer gestured to his accompanying guards. They floated two metallic cones into plain view, sliding them over Nova and Crescent’s horns and turning a latch.

“Is this another precaution?” asked Nova, tapping the metal lightly with her hoof.

The officer nodded. “We can use these now that you are under our direct supervision. The Energy Disruptor is the least-risky alternative in a house arrest situation when dealing with magic wielders. The metal used for these cones is the same used when constructing space-faring vessels, and as a result, you cannot gather in the energy present in a surrounding area.”

Nova opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut short by the officer’s visor, which flashed with red-colored text. He sighed, gesturing to the Global Security transport vessel waiting at the end of the street. Without another word, the guards ushered Nova and Crescent down the path and into the sole passenger door before shutting it.

“So,” Crescent asked, “are you excited to see Starswirl after all these years?”

Nova glanced around the barren, windowless walls. If a bit darker, it would replicate a prison cell completely. “I’m not so sure anymore,” she said, slumping into the seat beside Crescent. As she stared unhappily at the ground, Crescent rested his hoof over hers. Nova’s foreleg budged slightly as a result of the vehicle rumbling and the magi-collector starting, but she reached over and held onto Crescent’s entire foreleg until the shaking ceased. Looking up at his blushing face—her muzzle inches away from his—Nova smiled and said, “I can only hope for the best.”

* * *

They had arrived in the courtroom while Global Security officials were still preparing. This gave Nova the opportunity to examine the entire room, the ceiling of which laid almost thirty floors above. Every four floors stood a wide seating arrangement. Along with more than a few dozen other unicorns, who belonged to the Stabledon project, Crescent and Nova were seated within the first three rows on the ground level. They would be subjected to the scrutiny of however many equines would be sitting above.

Nova waited, passing the time by talking to Crescent or simply looking down to the floor. She stopped zoning out, however, as the nearby chatter became louder and more muffled. Turning her head skyward, she saw that the higher levels had been completely filled with equines. The once-empty seating area behind the project members was alive with conversation. The courtroom had been filled to full capacity.

“What happened to keeping news as minimal as possible?” she whispered.

“Global Security may have control over media,” Crescent replied after examining the crowds for himself, “but they can’t control news spreading from mouth to mouth. Still, I wasn’t expecting Starswirl’s ‘treason’ to be such a popular topic in Canterlotian conversation.”

Nova’s eyes wandered the crowd again before she turned back.

“I don’t feel like having this many unicorns in the room is safe. What if one of them casts a spell? What if someone is hurt?”

“Which is why Security may have already activated a magi-scrambler—or ‘Energy Disruptor’ as that officer called it—among the crowds in case this does go downhill. They wouldn’t want a thousand unicorns casting spells in an uncoordinated manner.” He shook his head. “That would be begging for a riot to break out.”

Nova shot a peculiar look at Crescent, but something else made her quickly look away. The radiance of the upper levels of the courtroom had dimmed, ending the murmurs nearby. Out of the gloom and darkness, on a high balcony located above the one housing the judges, came two lights. They were tiny twinkles, drawing gazes by growing in intensity like stars in the void of space. A tall screen flickered on to enlarge the twinkles, showing the faces of two tall, winged unicorns. The white alicorn stood with divinity, her mane of rainbows breezing over the balcony as her eyes scanned the crowds before; the blue alicorn, however, had her head raised high, as if unwilling to look upon those below her.

“The Empresses...” Nova muttered, her jaw dropping.

“That must be why...” whispered Crescent, awe-struck. “I was wrong. Dammit, it isn’t the content of the trial that has gathered the crowd; it’s the Empresses!”

“And they’re presiding over the trial?” She leaned closer to him, her words nearly lost among the thousands of other faint whispers.

“There must have been a last-minute leak,” said Crescent, shaking his head. “This sort of rumor would spread quickly just about anywhere—maybe to the entire first tier of the galaxy. The Empresses never make a public appearance.”

Glancing at the commotion behind her, Nova whispered, “So everyone here just wants a glimpse, even if they are far-off." She fixed her gaze on the screens. “I can sympathize. When I was a foal, I wanted to really look at them... outside what I see in pictures and videos.”

“But on a world with billions of equines, that dream is too unrealistic.” Crescent straightened his posture as Empress Celestia’s gaze wandered over their group. When she looked elsewhere, he relaxed his shoulders and said, “They have an Empire to run, and they can’t spare the time to greet each equine individually.”

“And yet here they are, Crescent, taking time away from running the Empire to see something so insignificant.”

A voice boomed through the large chamber, drawing the spectators’ attention to the tall screens, which simultaneously amplified sound. They projected the stern face of a stallion that towered over all of them. His eyes pierced down, as if they were bearing into Nova’s soul. Nova herself lowered her shoulders and shrunk down. Not even a murmur went through the rows of seats; even the slightest gesture or head-turn was frowned upon.

With a voice that captivated the entire courtroom, the stallion said, “The trial of Starswirl Stabledon shall now commence!”

As if on cue, the grand doors of the entrance opened, and all gazes shifted to it. Four guards—decorated in golden armor, ribbons and jewels—trotted down the center aisle. Despite their refined appearance, it was the equine they surrounded who drew the most attention.

A dull, black suit covered his gray coat, but his aged white mane, tail and beard were cut and styled formally. He strode down the courtroom, his wrinkled, topaz eyes aimed straight ahead. A clueless spectator would think: Was this the suspect? A simple, old pony? Was he really the reason why the Empresses were here?

Yes, he was. Nova and the project members had their eyes trained on the pony, even before the armed escort had walked past their row. The equine surrounded on all sides was none other than Starswirl Stabledon—leader of a group of fellow scholars, and supposed traitor to the Empire.

Author's Note

Acknowledgements

Cadderly Illuvatar—Editor
Golden Vision—Reviewer
Mango12—Pre-reader