Chapter 1

“Happily Ever After”

    Surreal.

    Yes, that was the word she was looking for: surreal.

    It was surreal to find herself in the market, picking out groceries. It was surreal to look at the ponies about her, to see the multiple colors of their coats blurring together in a rainbow hued smear. It was surreal to be standing under the bright, if hardly warming, sky of an early spring still struggling to shrug off the last vestiges of winter. It was surreal to see ponies going about their business without so much as a glance at each other, as though they were intentionally ignoring one another. It was surreal to listen to the venders hawk their wares, arguing and haggling with their customers for every last bit as if it mattered more than life itself. It was surreal to hear the occasional cry of a foal before being placated by a quick thinking parent. It was surreal to see this avenue so full of life when less than a year ago she remembered the smoldering ruins of this city while the imps ran rampant.

    “You gonna buy that tomater, or you gonna squeeze the juice out of it?”

    The mare’s attention snapped back to the tomato she’d been rolling between her hooves. With a blush she handed over her bits to the graying sales-stallion, too lost in her thoughts to bother haggling down the price. Instead, she simply scooped the last of the groceries into her saddle bags and worked her way through the crowd of ponies. They moved with such purpose and intent that they were oblivious to the small khaki mare as she paused in the center of the thoroughfare, her head tipped back to look at a stray cloud drifting overhead. Her eyes clouded as she became lost in thought once more, where it conjured shadows of the things that had been dubbed imps.

    She remembered them clearly, even now. They bore a passing resemblance to a gryphon, but only distantly so. They stood on two legs, with lanky, wiry bodies covered in lean muscles. Their flesh, coated in an almost living darkness borne of the stars, clung so tightly to them they appeared to be perpetually starving. Their torso and hips were so emaciated they bordered on skeletal, barely seeming powerful enough to support their massive bat-like wings. Their legs ended with a trio of clawed toes reminiscent of some sort of bird, every bit as prehensile as their hands, and the talons honed to razor sharpness. But that discounted their beaks, long and broad, ending with a terrible downward hook that she herself had witnessed rending into…

    She paused and shook her head, sending her short indigo mane flying as she dispelled the horrific image from her mind’s eye even before it could fully form. Other thoughts leapt forward to fill the void, and clung stubbornly as she tried to shake them loose as well. The feel of armour closed about her, helm sites filling her vision with targeting and system information. The thrill of the engines and wings propelling her normally Equestria-locked form aloft at dizzying speeds. The distinctive whine as she threw her hooves forward, launching blue-white plasma bolts at the Imps. The desperate weaving about the buildings, diving in and out of narrow streets designed poorly for even a casual flying pegasus, much less power armour tearing along a just below the speed of sound with a hoard of screeching imps following in her wake.

    “Move it kid!”

    The mare was jostled as a larger pony pushed past her, and she mumbled a barely heard apology of some sort. She stared at the startlingly azure stallion strut past, his nose so far in the air that his neck had to hurt. But that wasn’t why she stared. She stared at him because, quite simply, he didn’t know who she was. He didn’t remember the nervous mare in the green suit that the Sister Princesses introduced to the whole of Canterlot in the wake of that terrible battle.

    That struck her. She wasn’t sure why, but it struck something deep inside her. Perhaps it was a small sliver of naiveté falling away, never to be recovered. She could walk to the park where her name, Clockwork Key, code named Dragonfly, resided with five others. She could put her hoof on a statue that bore her likeness proudly, and yet no pony would connect them together. It had been nearly a year since the events that brought about those statues and recognition, and every pony had forgotten and moved on with life.

    A sudden breeze made the pony shiver visibly and she turned towards the place she called home, feeling not entirely “there” at the moment. With a lowered head she trudged down the lane, finding the road home unexpectedly empty after the crowded market.

    It was surreal.

    There was no pony to greet her when she got home.

    Clockwork kicked the door closed behind her, but the heavy wooden door glided shut so smoothly it hardly reflected her sour mood. Rather than brood on it she shrugged out of the saddlebags, still brimming with purchased food, and set them on the rich wooden floor of the manor’s foyer.

    “I remember arguing against getting this place,” she sighed and patted a hoof fondly on the rich wooden table by the door, its simple vase and singular lily soothing against the tempest swirling in her mind.

    “I’m back!” she called into the house, nosing past the foyer and into the richly appointed sitting room. Soft cream upholstered couches and multi-colored pillows were artfully scattered upon a woven red and gold carpet that Rainbow Star had brought home as a gift from the Diamond Dog delegates. A handful of books were scattered about as well, all in the process of being read before the massive fireplace, which somehow always had a comforting blaze crackling within. The small mare could feel the lure of its gentle heat, ready to work warm trails through her still chilled coat. Only the arrival of another pony prevented her from following through on that temptation.

    “You’re back!” the gray unicorn cried, appearing behind Clockwork in an explosion of pink smoke. Her pink and purple striped mane bounced as she ducked forward to greet the other pony.

    “I got the food Skillet asked for,” the small khaki mare said with a thin smile. “And you were right; I should’ve worn a scarf. It’s a lot chillier than I expected out there.”

    The other mare grinned broadly. “I toldja so,” she chuckled, “I’ve lived in Canterlot all my life.”

    “It’s after Winter Wrap-up,” Clockwork complained, “it should be warmer.”

    “I always figured it was part of the higher altitude, it just stays colder longer,” the gray unicorn answered with a shrug as she opened up the saddlebags. “Oooh, chocolate! Score!”

    “Flourish!” Clockwork protested as the gray mare, along with the saddlebags of food, vanished in a puff of pink smoke. The short mare stomped a hoof in frustration before chiding herself. It was just Flourish after all, and getting angry would do her no good.

    For a moment Clockwork considered strongly wandering over to that pillow by the fireplace, plopping down, and letting the soothing warmth strip away the chill that still clung to her. Her eyes lidded from the siren call of lazing before the fire, but she shook it off. Her mood would only darken further if she were left alone with her thoughts.

    Having made her decision, she left the sitting room behind and slipped through the dining room. She moved past the rich wooden dining table that could easily seat twenty… which seemed vastly overkill to her when there were only seven of them. Eight or nine at the most if one or both of the Princesses decided to swing by in order to hide from whatever official function that demanded their attention.

    Clockwork was just about to push through the swinging door to the kitchen when a loud crash beyond it made her jump, and her ears flattened as steel cookware clattered against the tiled kitchen floor. Given the name shouted by two voices in the room beyond, and the sudden silence that followed, Clockwork was sure who the source of that disruption was. With a smirk, she pushed the door open and slipped into the kitchen.

    The kitchen was the domain of their cook, friend, advisor, and coordinator, and had been built to his exacting specifications. He was very particular about “HIS” kitchen, with its steel appliances that operated off plasma heating elements Clockwork designed for him, large countertop areas for working and cutting and preparing, plenty of places to sit while working in deference to his ongoing leg problems, and lowered racks of cookware within easy reach of an Earth pony. In short, he had ensured he was the master of his kitchen, and it showed… except when Flourish got in the way. Which, given the state of the room and the number of pots and pans lying on the floor, there was ample evidence that she had indeed gotten in the way and gotten away.

    “Ah, there you are, Little Key!” the master of his domain cried, a large steel gray stallion with a broad jaw and slicked black mane. “When you see Flourish, tell her she is on dishwashing duty tonight, ya?”

    “Sure thing, Skillet. I didn’t forget anything, did I?” Clockwork asked as she moved towards the mess of pots and pans littering the floor, leaning down to pick one up with her mouth to place it in the sink.

    A muscular gryphoness with tawny fur was picking up more of the pots and pans as she answered for the stallion, “Flourish had her muzzle in the bags before Skillet could take them from her. You know how she is…”

    “It’s a wonder she’s not two-hundred pounds and so big she can’t even move, given all she eats,” Clockwork grumbled, and helped pick up the last of the cookware. She then leaned against one of the counters while the gryphoness washed her claws and moved to a nearby preparation counter.

    “She is spared such fate by fast metabolism.” Skillet chuckled as he dumped out the contents of the saddlebags onto the counter. “I do not see anything you forgot, Little Key. Only chocolate is gone.”

    “Blame Flourish for that,” Clockwork complained, only to blink at the broad smile from the stallion.

    “Then it work, ya?” he asked as he separated the tomatoes onto the cutting board.

    “It… did?”

    “Ya, I always get chocolate whenever shopping for food,” Skillet answered as he quickly gripped a knife and began slicing the freshest of the tomatoes. “It keep her from rest of my ingredients.”

    Clockwork blinked, and then gave a weak chuckle. “I see.”

    Skillet offered the mare a broad grin about the handle of the knife, which served to make him look far creepier than he intended, before going back to his preparations. Clockwork just shook her head, and turned just in time to catch the gryphon as she snapped a carrot slice out of the air with her beak and begin chewing on it experimentally.

    “I thought you only ate meat?” Clockwork asked.

    “I do…” she answered, then looked at the celery and carrots she was slicing, “I did. Skillet is most… convincing in getting me to try other dishes. After all, it is difficult to get fresh meat here in the city, and I still need to eat.”

    Clockwork swiped a carrot slice and chewed on it thoughtfully. “The carrots are still a touch bitter. They’ll sweeten up later in the spring.”

    The gryphon nodded and went back to her cutting. “Something is bothering you.”

    “Am I that easy to read, Filigree?” Clockwork asked sheepishly, rubbing a foreleg across her nose.

    “We seven have lived together for nearly a year,” Filigree noted, “and it is hard not to pick up on the cues we each have. It is good we have private rooms to get away from one another, or we would have been at each other’s throats within the second month.”

    “Was that the music volume argument, or the chore rotation argument?”

    “Does it matter?” the gryphoness asked with a grin, popping a slice of celery into her mouth.

    “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” she sighed. “If I could define what was wrong, I would.”

    “Then try. Cutting is boring; I can give you enough of my attention to listen.”

    Clockwork grinned. “Don’t let Skillet hear you say that.”

    “Hear her say what?” Skillet asked.

    “I said doing the cutting is boring,” Filigree answered.

    “Ya,” Skillet answered with a shrug, “but has to be done.”

    “HAY!” Clockwork cried. “You always read me the riot act when I complained about it!”

    “That is because, Little Key, you were little filly prone to whining,” he answered with a grin. “Besides, I try those old tricks with gryphon, she look at me like I grow second tail.”

    Filigree snorted, “I am not willing to make a game of it.”

    “See what I mean?” Skillet chuckled, and went back to his tomato slicing. “How can I work with that?”

    “Well that didn’t work,” Clockwork grumbled.

    “I understand necessity. It makes no sense to me to add frivolity to a necessary, if boring, chore,” Filigree answered with a smirk. “You have not yet said what is bothering you, I notice.”

    “I don’t know,” Clockwork reiterated. “It’s strange. I walked through town to do the groceries, and my mind starts conjuring up images of the imps we fought. The memories, the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline pounding in my ears…”

    “…the fearing for our lives…” Skillet interjected, causing Clockwork to smile crookedly.

    “Fearing for our lives too,” she amended, “but after all that, we still won. We beat the Nightmare and drove her imps back. We were awarded titles and medals in front of everypony. Yet when I was in town, I got pressured by sales-ponies, jostled by idiots, and generally ignored by everypony. It’s not that I’m an attention horse, but it’s like everything we did was forgotten.”

    “The ponies want to return to their normal lives,” Filigree said simply as she scooped the sliced remains into a bowl before taking out another carrot and celery stalk to begin the slicing process anew. “We were the heroes of the day, but that day has passed.”

    “That’s just it. It all feels so… surreal,” she sighed and rested her head on her folded forelegs. “We went from heroes to just being one of the crowds. No book or story I’ve ever read talks about what happens after ‘the end’. How does someone who experienced so much go back to being ‘normal’ again?”

    “If I knew the answer, I would tell you,” Filigree said. “I have come from much different circumstances than yours; my normal was the receiving end of a lash after all. I started as a servant and a bodyguard, and now am a titled lady fit to have her own servants, should I choose to.”

    Clockwork sat up and looked slightly pained. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t thinking about how it affected --“

     “You express legitimate concerns, Clockwork Key,” Filigree interrupted, “I assure you I am not simply wiping them away with a sweep of my wing. I am trying to say that I understand. You are correct, it does feel unreal. I continually expect to wake up and find this was all a fever created dream, that the families Rainbow Star introduced me to are nothing more than a figment of my imagination, that friends who consider me as an equal among them are just some desperate delusion from deep in my mind. As such, I am thankful for the reminders that all this is real. The rain that catches you unawares, the bad luck of stubbing a claw in the night, the pony who turns their music up too loud when you’re trying to sleep. The little uncertainties and problems remind me that this is real, not some perfect delusion my mind created because I could no longer stand the strain of my life.

    “In short, we are living what happens after ‘The End’. We defeated the Nightmare and have seen the Imp attacks fall off to almost nothing in the past year. We have seen the Agency almost completely disbanded, with those that are left turned into teachers to help new Specials learn to control and use their powers responsibly. We have seen Princess Luna admit fault in her forced enrollment of Specials into the Agency, and the grievances of nearly two generations of unregistered laid to rest. All of this over the course of a year.”

    “But that’s not the question, Filigree,” Clockwork complained. “The question isn’t about the rest of the world and what happens to them, it’s not about reminding ourselves that this is real, it is about what happens to us next. That’s still in the air, isn’t it? We have titles now, practically royalty ourselves… do you have no idea how wrong that feels to me? Me? In all those stuffy affairs and events? Are you kidding me?! I’d rather power up the Dragonfly armour and face a Destroyer Imp alone than face a crowd full of those stuck up ponies.”

    “I assume you are referring to the tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala we received this year?”

    “Not specifically, but that’s a good example,” Clockwork sighed, “and it doesn’t help that I keep having this restless feeling all down my mane. It’s like… it’s like when I miss something in an invention; it’s lurking just out of my sight, waiting to be found. If anything, it’s TOO peaceful. That sounds stupid, doesn’t it? Too peaceful. We were fighting for peace, to live without the constant invasions of Imps and the Nightmare. Now that they’re gone, I’m complaining about the lack of excitement. All the threats these days are so low level they might as well not bother to call us up at all. Hell, the Royal Guard was able to put down the last half-dozen attempts from rogue Imps without us. What do we do now? Do they even NEED us anymore? Do they need Dragonfly? Do they need Steelwing? Spectrum? Galaxi? Tome? Flourish? Do they truly need any of us anymore?”

    “The Princesses think so,” Filigree stated as she pointed a claw at Clockwork, before noticing the carrot slice impaled upon it. She tugged it off and started again, “The Princesses think so. Otherwise we would not be here on retainer for our work. We’d not be getting paid to stay in Canterlot, provided a home that links to an emergency briefing room beneath the Castle. Your lab would not continue to exist, with the slow progression of your inventions that find their way to the Palace Guard. Our duties as delegates to various factions would not exist, your work with the Unregistered, or mine with the Gryphon clans. The Princesses believe we still have a purpose here, even if only as role models.”

    “Role models?” the mare grumped as she stole another slice of carrot. “I’m not sure we’re really the best of role models.”

    “Since when has that stopped any pony from emulating another?” Filigree asked with a smile. She scooped another batch of sliced vegetables into a nearby bowl before she set the knife aside. “The New Ponyville Trio, The Avenging Hammer, The Upstarts, The League,” she counted off on her claws, “and many others. All of those groups were inspired, in one way or another, by us. Project Moonbeam exists now as a role model for any group of Specials on how to band together to protect those ponies who cannot.”

    “Great, so they get to do the fighting, while we’re sitting on our flanks.”

    “I do not think the enemies they face would be of much challenge to us. However, these groups are learning, and learning from those who used to battle the forces of the Nightmare across the land.”

    “It’s starting to sound like the comics I read as a filly,” Clockwork chuckled, “they aren’t Specials; they’re Super-Heroes.”

    Filigree nodded. “That’s precisely it, Clockwork Key; they are Super-Heroes. They are what pony specials can and will become in a post Agency Equestria. The Princesses were smart enough to see it coming, and realized that there would be Specials who were not good ponies. As such, we have been placed on a pedestal and a spotlight shone upon as an ideal. We are not perfect; we are, to a one, only ponies. But we stood up when things were at their bleakest and fought back. We forged a path we didn’t even realize we were creating, and now others wish to follow us down it.”

    “Meanwhile, we’re stuck cooling our fetlocks,” Clockwork pointed out.

    “We’re the reserves,” Filigree noted as she stretched, “we are the penultimate heroes in Equestria right now. Personally I am glad we are not busy all the time, for I cannot see the Princesses mobilizing us without another threat that could potentially destroy large swaths of Equestria.”

    “Says you,” Clockwork grumbled. “How is it going with the Gryphons anyway?”

    The gryphoness looked mildly pained. “They are stubborn, which I expected. What I did not expect was the level of personal hostility towards me. Were it not for the guards with me, I suspect I would have been forced to defend myself multiple times.”

    “It’s that bad?” Clockwork asked, shocked.

    “Politicians are politicians,” Filigree growled softly. “They only think of their own power. It does not help that they consider me worse than a slave or servant now. I am Caste-less, a betrayer. In their eyes, I abandoned my race and its traditions. Were it not politically harmful for them to turn away the Princess’ chosen representative, I would have assuredly been ignored completely.”

    “Wow, I didn’t expect them to be that rough on you.”

    “Nor did I, honestly,” Filigree sighed. “I still have the worst one yet to come; my home clan. I opted to leave them until last as an attempted show of humility. Unfortunately they have chosen to take it as a direct snub of them, so I can only wonder what sort of welcome I shall receive there next week. It does not help that my attention has been distracted here at home.”

    “The brothers?”

    “Yes,” the gryphon answered. “Alto has gone missing. He has been missing for the past several weeks, and his family is in fits trying to find him. Needless to say that made my last visit far more tense than I had hoped it would be.”

    “Why didn’t you tell us?” Clockwork blurted out, surprised. “At the least Rainbow Star and I could have mobilized our resources to help find him.”

    “Because they asked me not to,” she said softly. “There is a possibility he has decided to strike out and find his own way, which is not to be discouraged but commended. Trying to hunt him down in that manner would be the cause of much unnecessary embarrassment. There is also the possibility he believes his brother was winning over my affections, and chosen this as a method to try and win my attention back from him.”

    Clockwork frowned. “That makes you sound like the prize in a competition.”

    “You are not incorrect,” she answered. “Chase realized that I would make up my own mind, and could not be ‘won’, early on. Thus we have grown close. But Alto never quite figured that out.”

    “So he was spurned, which they suspect might have driven him to even higher competitive heights?”

    “That is precisely correct,” Filigree answered.

    “Is it wrong that I’m jealous of all that attention you’re getting?” Clockwork teased.

    “Then you are not paying enough attention to those around you,” Filigree noted back with a smile.

    Clockwork snorted, “Yeah right…  I haven’t had a buckfriend since before this whole thing started. It doesn’t help that all those dates Trixie keeps trying to fix me up with end in disaster...”

    “I’m afraid I’m the wrong one to speak to about romance,” Filigree noted. “Gryphon mating and romantic ideals are vastly different from ponies. You might have better luck speaking with the others, or perhaps that trio up north; two of them had successful relationships, if I remember correctly, thus more experience on the subject.”

    “You mean the Crusaders?”

    “Aye, them,” Filigree confirmed.

    “Not sure how much help they’d be right now,” Clockwork grumbled, “the damned unregistered territories are halfway to a war with themselves.”

    “Oh? I had not heard this.”

    “I’ve been keeping the Princesses apprised of it, but they don’t want the story getting around yet. The short version is that the current politicians in charge of the colonies aren’t very eager to give up power and be re-integrated back under Celestia’s rule. But with Princess Luna’s apology for the forced recruitment, and the discontinuation of the Agency, many of the Unregistered are heading back to the homes they once knew. Meanwhile there’s a flow the OTHER way of ponies worried that since the Princesses forced service once, they could do it again.”

    “In short,” Filigree summarized, “there is a contingent of ponies who don’t believe the Princesses can learn from their mistakes.”

    “That’s it in a nutshell,” Clockwork agreed. “They also refuse to believe Luna’s apology. They think it’s just words, and that the Princesses would happily do it again when it suits them.”

    “Then the colonies are becoming the home of the power mad and the paranoid?”

    “What’s worse is I can see it being a self fulfilling prophecy,” Clockwork sighed. “The paranoid ponies force the government to lean more and more away from the Princesses until they are seeing attacks where there are none.”

    “Where does the internal war come in?” Filigree asked curiously.

    “With those who want the colonies to become part of the Ponylands,” Clockwork answered softly. “The Crusaders are at the forefront of that one, especially Apple Bloom. They want to reunite with the Ponylands under Celestia, but they’ve spent most of their lives in the Unregistered Colonies, and do not wish to move away from them. They’ve settled down, put down roots, raised families, and built homes and businesses… you get the idea.”

    “I can see the division, and no easy solutions.”

    “That’s what I’m looking at up north,” she sighed. “I’m also concerned that the Crusaders are getting up there in years. I have no idea how much longer they will… live, and they’re spearheading the pro-Princess movement, for lack of a better name. If they die, and it would only take one to dispirit the others, then the movement will likely fall with them.”

    “You, nor I, are politicians,” Filigree stated. “We can only report our findings back, and hope the professionals can defuse it.”

     “That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”    

    “How goes the research?”

    The pale yellow unicorn looked up from his book, smiling nervously at the approach of the silvery-white alicorn. Instinctively he bowed, but a sweep of her wing dismissed the gesture as unnecessary. With a sigh, the graying unicorn settled back on his cushion and waved a foreleg at the book. “As well as can be expected, Princess,” he answered softly.

    “Is something the matter?” she asked and looked around the quarters she had assigned to the Professor. The room struck her as if someone had taken a slice of a library and combined it with a museum. One entire wall was lined with bookshelves stuffed with books, many of which she herself had removed from circulation. Opposite that was a shelf with a heavy crimson pillow on it, upon which rested the four orbs the Professor had recovered from the Samaren desert.

    “I… I don’t mean to be rude, Princess, but it would help if I knew exactly what I was looking for,” the stallion answered, shifting nervously.

    The Princess glanced at the short spiral staircase that lead up to the sleeping chamber before answering. “Your friend is asleep?”

    “Hum? Oh, yes,” the Professor answered, “he has not been handling the time-zone change well.”

    Celestia nodded slowly before answering, “There are several points of import to your research, Professor.”

    “What are they?” the stallion asked in a tired voice. “You know more about these elements more than I ever did.”

    “That’s where you’re wrong, Professor,” she answered softly, a painful tone in her voice drawing the stallion to meet her gaze.

    “I… don’t understand, Princess,” he answered carefully. “You were able to tell us the entire story of their creation while sitting in a tent in the middle of the desert. Neither myself or my friend had any guesses on how such artifacts came to be.”

    “Ah, Professor… I apologize. I fear I may not have been as forthcoming as I should have.”

    “It is not the history she remembers that is the cause for research,” answered a familiar voice from the stairway. Quagga slowly picked his way down them as he spoke, “It is the history of what occurred when she was in her torpor after creating them that she is concerned with.”

    “Precisely,” Celestia responded with a smile, “my sister withdrew from Equestria during that time, thinking I had passed on. Equestria was completely unprotected by a Princess for centuries. Unfortunately, the Demon-god destroyed much of the material written on the Elements during that time, which makes finding details difficult.”

    “Wait…” the unicorn said softly as he rubbed his chin with a hoof, “…are you saying you wish us to research not the Elements, but the bearers of the Elements of Justice?”

    “That is correct.”

    “If I had to guess…” the zebra started.

    “…you’re also interested in discovering the root cause of the corruption that led to the creation he-who-must-not-be-named,” Professor Relic finished. He looked to Celestia for confirmation.

    Celestia smiled brightly, silently answering the question. “I see now why you both tend to work together so much. You make an excellent team. However, there is one additional thing I wish you discover,” she added.

    “Princess?”

    “You must discover what spark brings those elements together.”

    “What?!?” the Professor cried, his jaw falling slack.

    “You do not know?” the zebra asked more reasonably. “Are they not your creations?”

    Celestia nodded to the four orbs the stallions had found. “They are mostly my creations,” she answered after a moment, “but the addition of Styrex, the ancient dragon I mentioned before, to the mix was not part of my plans. I intended for the spark of friendship to be their trigger, but I have cause to believe that these Elements are triggered in a different way.”

    “But the dearth of information makes it difficult, if not impossible, to know what,” the zebra concluded. The Princess confirmed the statement with a nod of her head.

    “That will pose a unique problem,” Relic said, rubbing his chin for a moment before pushing his way to his hooves. His magic tugged free a book from its brethren and flipped open the pages, riffling through them for a moment before he continued, “Even these ancient tomes do not outline the spark required for the Elements of Harmony, and they have seen far more use than the Elements of Justice.”

    “I have faith in you, my little ponies,” Celestia answered, “you will have all the resources I can make available to you.”

    “Speaking of resources, how did the Caesar handle the sudden closing of the dig?” Quagga asked.

    “Fortunately the Caesar accepted the reasons I gave him, and sent staff to oversee the restoration of the grave to its original condition,” she noted with a smile. “That I felt the post of Caesar was of such importance that I personally stepped in to stop even the most minor of desecration, regardless of intent, made him all that much more supportive of my rule. That particular gravesite will be off limits to all in the future, I fear, since the Caesar now believes it to be sacred ground. Some additional support from the Camel tribes north of the site, and their knowledge of sand, will have it wrapped up and reburied in only a few weeks.”

    The unicorn groaned, “Three months to dig it out, and reburied in three weeks. I told you that excavation was cursed.”

    The zebra laughed, “Yes, by Princess Celestia herself.”

    “It is nice to cook for a full house again!”

    “Uh, Skillet?” The khaki mare couldn’t help but point out, “We’re short two ponies for that.”

    The stallion was undeterred as he settled himself at the head of the table, grinning to the mares (and gryphoness) sitting upon the cushions that surrounded the dinner table. Rainbow Star, a sleek white pegasus with a rainbow mane, settled the final dish onto the center of the table. At a satisfied nod from Skillet, she flitted over to an empty seat at the table.

    “Maybe, but Princess Luna promise that both Galaxi and Tome would be back in time for dinner,” he countered.

    “That will be nice,” Rainbow Star said. “It seems lately we don’t have the time to do much together as a team. Everypony is being pulled in different directions…”

    “It would get pretty boring if the Princesses just left us to sit on our flanks all day,” Flourish put in.

    Filigree snorted, “Like you wouldn’t find plenty of trouble to get into.”

    “I’m serious,” the pegasus interrupted. “Clockwork is working with the Unregistered. You, Filigree, are working with the gryphons. I’m acting as a liaison to the Diamond Dog factions. Of course Galaxi and Tome are working with the Princesses as their apprentices, and spending almost all their free time face down in books on magic. Skillet is managing the house here in our absence…  I think the only one without an actual job is Flourish.”

    “Hay!!” the gray unicorn cried, glaring at Rainbow Star.

    “I have to admit, liaison to the Buffalo Tribes seems like a gimmie to me,” Clockwork put in softly. “Chief Thunderhooves was part of the original team, and is a genuinely likable Bison.”

    “I am sure he is not put out about you taking his spot,” Skillet teased.

    Flourish grumbled, “Yeah, like it’s a picnic having to rough it like that. I’m a city girl! Those Bison shun all form of advanced technology!”

    “How terrible for you,” the gryphon snarked, “you have to go without your radio for a few days.”

    “And the stuff they call food!” Flourish continued unabated. “If it weren’t for their apple pie fetish I’d starve out there!”

    “Poor little pony,” Skillet teased, earning him a withering glare from Flourish.

    “That’s hardly roughing it,” Rainbow Star put in. “Roughing it is living in a cave with the Diamond Dogs. All those gems, and they only want to hoard them like dragons. You’d think they would drop a few bits for a bed instead of sleeping right on the rocks.”

    “You should see the clans,” Filigree interjected, “They still use servants up there.”

    “What’s so bad about that?” Flourish asked. “The Princesses use servants too.”

    “Unlike palace servants here, who are well paid, most gryphon servants are in shackles and under threat of the lash. It’s a caste system there, and unlike the rest of you, I am HARDLY an honored guest,” she pointed out, getting some murmurs from the ponies present, before it lapsed into silence.

    Clockwork suddenly became aware of all eyes on her and she blinked, “W-what?”

    “Aw come on, Clock, you gotta keep up! I mean you’re with the Unregistered, right? You gotta hate roughing it up there,” Flourish teased.

    “Not really,” Clockwork answered softly, “if anything I find it peaceful. No constant whine of lights or the hum of electricity all around me. I can listen; I mean really listen, to everything I’ve been missing. The sigh of the breeze, the chirp of the crickets, the songs from the birds…”

    “Little Key is going native on us,” Skillet joked, followed by a round of genial laughter. Clockwork offered a wan smile, but it never moved past her lips.

    “Tome has… arrived!” a cyan unicorn with a silvery mane announced, sparing Clockwork Key further teasing by virtue of her “dramatic” entrance. She paused to take a long sniff at the air and smiled broadly. “My my, Skillet, I believe you have outdone yourself, this meal looks and smells wonderful!”

    “Wait ‘til you taste it, ya?” the gray stallion responded with a smile.

    “We’re not late, are we?” asked a white filly, flicking the curl of her unruly sea-green mane from her pupil-less eyes.

    “Nyet! You are right on time, Galaxi!”

    “Good, I wouldn’t want to miss out,” a third voice added, and the group quickly started to get up from their cushions…

    “Oh stop it,” the midnight blue alicorn with a silver crown and adornments chuckled, smiling lopsidedly as she looked over the assembled group.

    “No offense, Princess, but you left your aura on…” Rainbow Star pointed out.

    “Huh?” the alicorn answered intelligently, and glanced at her star field-like mane that flowed in the solar winds. She just gave a slight shrug. “I’m starting to see why Celestia leaves hers on all the time, it’s just too much of a bother to keep turning it on and off for public appearances.”

    “Makes no difference, ya?” Skillet interrupted. “Join us, I made plenty of everypony! If Filigree would do honors of serving, we can start dinner, ya? I cook up some carrot and celery infused lasagna, fettuccini alfredo topped with mixture of flower petals, my famous chilled seven bean salad, and for dessert I have fresh made baklava.”

    “My goodness,” the Princesses breathed.

    “You really went all out! Tome is impressed,” the azure unicorn stated as found herself a spot at the table.

    “I bet it will taste better than anything those stuffy chefs in castle would make,” Skillet said with a grin.

    “Sucker bet,” Flourish joked, “those ponies wouldn’t know good food if it bit them on the Cutie Mark!”

    “Now now, Flourish,” Princess Luna chided with a smile. She settled into an empty spot at the table and gave a nod to the gryphoness as she ladled some of the lasagna on her plate. “They simply make the high couture dishes they were taught. While good in their own way, I will confess that I am glad Skillet is nearby to occasionally get some good home-cooked meals.”

    “Ah Princess, you flatter Skillet!”

    “There’s a reason Celestia and I won’t announce where we’re eating ahead of time when we travel,” Luna chuckled softly. “Ponies tend to get all frou-frou with their food offerings when expecting royalty. If they aren’t expecting us, we can usually get a more proper feel for the sort of meals they make and eat normally. Honestly it’s more enjoyable, as palace and ‘high class’ dishes tend to be more about the artistry than the taste. However, I seem to recall that Celestia does have a weakness for Cloud Cake.”

    “That’s a Cloudsdale specialty isn’t it?” Galaxi asked softly.

    “Yes, it is. A pegasus invention, and truly delicious, if a bit on the sweet side for me,” she said with a shrug. “But then, we all have our own tastes. I know Celestia doesn’t care for the heavier foods I tend to favor.”

    “If not prying, Princess, like what?” Skillet asked eagerly.

    “Let’s just say I wouldn’t miss your dessert for all Equestria,” the Princess answered with a wink that made the stallion blush.

    The laughter all seemed to wash past Clockwork, who spent more time staring at her plate than eating anything on it. Sure, Skillet was a good cook, perhaps the best she knew, but for some reason the food just did not look palatable tonight. In the end, she only ended up eating a few bites of her fettuccini and half of her seven bean salad before just pushing the plate aside, steadfastly ignoring the conversation. She started to wonder if it would be rude of her to try and slip away.

    “Skillet thinks he must be luckiest stallion in all of Canterlot, if not Equestria,” he announced halfway through the meal.

    “What makes you say that?” Luna asked as she wiped fettuccini sauce from her lips.

    “Because Skillet is only stallion he knows to treat seven lovely ladies to dinner at once,” he answered with a broad grin. A loud throat clearing caused him to duck his head and look sheepishly at Flourish, who was gracing him with a dark glare. “Of course, I am not being greedy sort and will happily stick to one lovely mare,” he amended quickly.

    Flourish seemed satisfied and leaned over the table, stage whispering to the others, “See, stallions CAN be taught.”

    The gray filly let out a sudden squeal, and vanished in a pink cloud. Those at the table couldn’t help but laugh as said stallion waggled his bushy eyebrows and flexed the hoof he’d just goosed Flourish with. That expression lasted all of two seconds before Flourish pounced and knocked the heavy stallion onto the floor, where the pair began to laugh and wrestle and tickle each other.

    “I’d suggest they get a room,” Filigree said with a shake of her head, “but they technically already have one. Would you like more salad, Princess?”

    Almost no pony noticed the empty place near the foot of the table where Clockwork had been sitting.

    “I wondered where you got to.”

    Clockwork YELPED at the voice behind her, and snapped her head around. The screwdriver she had been holding went flying towards the intruder, hurtling end over end like a knife… until the purple glow of telekinesis plucked it from the air and levitated it back to the work table the short mare had been working at.

    “S-sorry…” the khaki mare stammered, her heart hammering in her ears. The room was only half lit, with most of the light focused on the “table” she had been working at. The rest of the starkly empty room was dark, hiding the white tiled ceiling and floor amidst the shadows. Her guest stepped around the only console in the room to move closer to the small mare.

    “You okay?” she asked gently, her white coat coming into view as she stepped into the pool of light.

    “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

    “Did you forget I’m psychic?” the mare asked with a half-smile, her empty eyes flashing purple.

    “No, Galaxi, I didn’t forget you’re psychic,” Clockwork answered irritably, looking away from her. Her eyes instinctively fell on the shadow of her greatest invention, the Dragonfly Armour Mark III. The enameled green and gold plated armour in the shape of a pony caught the slightest light and reflected it back. In an odd way, it almost looked as if the armour was watching the pony back…

    “Then why would you try to lie to me?” Galaxi asked, sounding slightly hurt.

    “Because it’s easier than admitting it to myself,” she answered softly.

    “Clockwork?”

    “Galaxi, I don’t KNOW what’s wrong,” she admitted softly. “I’m jumpy and on edge all the time. I figure it’s best to distance myself a little, rather than risk saying something hurtful or stupid and sticking my hoof in my mouth.”

    Galaxi accepted that with a frown and, for the moment, didn’t push the issue. Instead she looked over at what the other mare was working on. For a brief moment she marveled at exactly how flexible the robotic panels of Clockwork Key’s lab was, for they had formed a sort of work-table to allow the mare to work on her current project. She looked closer at the mess of copper springs and gears that made up this project, unable to properly identify it.

    “Clockwork? I know it’s your name, but isn’t that a bit old fashioned for you?”

    The khaki mare frowned slightly and lifted the screwdriver she just hurled, carefully setting the tension of a spring before answering, “It’s a gift. I want to try and get it done before I have to head back north again.”

    “What is it supposed to be?”

    “A wind up frog,” Clockwork answered softly, and used her hooves to pinch a spring between them, carefully maneuvering it into the device she was working on. “Echo’s little grandson was fascinated by the frogs we saw around the lake they have up there. Part of his fascination was, of course, how muddy he could get chasing them around, but he just seemed so… happy. Since I missed Hearth’s Warming and his Birthday, I figured I’d build this and give it to him when I get up there. At the least maybe he won’t get so muddy next time.”

    “I doubt that’d stop him. You know how little colts are with mud,” Galaxi answered with a weak smile.

    “Yeah, I know,” she answered softly, and set the screwdriver to work again at tightening another bolt.

    “Clockwork--”

    “Galaxi, I know you mean well,” the khaki mare interrupted, not looking up from her work, “but this really isn’t the time.”

    Galaxi blinked at the curt statement, then sighed and turned away, pausing by the door to look back over her shoulder. “Skillet saved you a piece of baklava,” she informed the other mare with thinly disguised hurt, then slipped away.

    Galaxi barely saw the dim metal corridor as she plodded along it, not really having a destination in mind. Clockwork’s curt dismissal pained her in a way she never anticipated. The khaki mare had been her first close friend, and now she was pushing her away…

    “How is she?” the Princess asked softly, all but materializing from the darkness by Galaxi to interrupt her thoughts.

    “Something’s wrong,” she answered softly, “but she’s shutting me out. I… I don’t know what I can say or do.” Galaxi looked at her hooves, and the steel corridor under them. They were only twenty floors below the manor they were staying at, deep in the tunnels under Canterlot Castle.

    “I fear some of it is my fault,” Luna said softly, walking along with her apprentice. “You six have all but headed your own directions after the fall of the Nightmare. It’s only been a year, and yet you each have your own duties separate from each other.”

    “You think our team is falling apart?” Galaxi asked worriedly.

    “Friendship can drift apart; it takes work to maintain,” Luna answered simply. “But I do not think that is the only problem. I spoke to Filigree while you were attempting to speak with Clockwork. It seems that the little mare is having an additional problem as well, one that both the gryphon and Tome have had to deal with, but were more successful in combating.”

    “Princess?”

    “I do not know how to define it, Galaxi,” she answered, a note of pain touching her voice. “It’s a sense of disconnection, of unreality. She is not handling the transition to this more relaxed life well. I had hoped by keeping you mares busy it would dull the impact of this shift back to a ‘normal’ existence.”

    “But…  I don’t understand, Princess,” Galaxi said softly. “During the… project, she was supportive. Sure, she wasn’t the most social, but she always made an effort to be friendly with me. She’s never pushed me away like that before.”

    “Think of this a different way,” Luna gently answered, leading Galaxi into the lift she had installed, “she is seeing all of you adjust to this new life. Yet she’s still back in the mindset that the Imps could come at any time. Being told that they are gone isn’t sinking in on some level. She’s still ready for the fight, and we aren’t. She sees us all adjusting reasonably well, and she’s getting steadily more frustrated that she cannot. This isn’t anger directed at you, Galaxi. This is anger directed at herself, with nowhere to go. Everypony is managing, and she isn’t, and she doesn’t understand why. That is steadily making her more and more frustrated.”

    “But... she was the one who told ME that when it was all over we would learn to adjust! Hell, she was the one who told me we’d just adapt if we lost our powers at the end of all this!”

    “Which is perhaps an even more aggravating thing for her,” Luna answered softly. “You are learning to adjust and adapt, and she can’t figure it out.”

    “She’s supposed to be the smart one,” Galaxi complained.

    Luna sighed, “Intelligence is not without its disadvantages.”