The roads to the north of Everfree were not often travelled. Not by hoof, not by cart, and most certainly not by carriage. At their best, the roads—if one could call them roads with a straight face—were paths traced out of grass too trampled to grow straight. At their worst, they were little more than meandering paths through the forest where a few trees had been felled for the benefit of passing wagons. The settlements of Equestria were built on a line stretching from the Horseshoe Bay in the east to the Mountain of Dawn in the west; a few small homesteads had branched off from that so-called road, but all of Equestria’s meaningful settlements followed the line toward Everfree. What little paved road there was leading out of Everfree City to the north lasted no more than fifteen miles before it simply faded away.

A white-coated pegasus with a brown mane and a smiling yellow face stamped on his flanks whistled to himself as he walked down the path. Sure, it would’ve been easier to fly to Everfree to get the textiles his mom needed, but it was summer, and he wasn’t in any hurry. It felt good to crunch the stiff summer prairie grass underhoof, and flying would have carried him above the smells of the flowers and trees.

His hooves took him over a series of rising and falling hillocks, with the grass thinning out into more and more of a dirt path as he passed farmhouse after farmhouse. His eyes wandered over the simple thatch-roofed cottages with the smoke of the midday meals wafting out of their chimneys. The homesteads grew larger and wider the closer he got to Everfree, and the pegasus farmhoof felt a little pang of jealousy inside of himself as he watched colts and fillies play in the field outside of their farms. He missed the days of playing with his older sister, when life was simpler.

Cresting one last hilltop, the pegasus let his eyes fall on Everfree, and he took a moment to catch his breath in the splendor of that stone city. No matter how many times he’d seen it before, he’d never get over the sight. The proud castle surrounded by its moat and nestled amongst towering spirals of buildings and temples, the seemingly innumerous rows of houses spreading out in every direction, the river flowing just outside the city, taking dozens of cogs and galleys along with it… It was so much more exciting than his boring cottage on the farm.

The crunching of dirt and gravel under heavy wagon wheels caught the pegasus’ attention, and he lazily turned his head towards the cart he was expecting to crest behind him. Almost immediately, however, his eyes widened in surprise, his jaw dropped, and his wings hung limply by his sides.

No fewer than ten crystalline carriages were slowly making their way up the hill behind him. Their enormous wheels were made out of iron and onyx and were as tall as he was. Amethyst walls framed a cabin with inset sapphire window frames and diamond glass. Gold leaf and silver lining covered the harnesses of the four large, crystalline stallions pulling each carriage, who in turn wore strikingly cyan armor decorated with rubies. Their spiked horseshoes provided each team of ponies traction as they hauled their load up the hill without breaking a sweat—or at least, none that the farmer could see against the sheen of their skin.

The carriages passed without delay, the quartet of crystal ponies pulling each ignoring the pegasus’ presence other than to shift their course slightly so as not to trample the awestruck farmer underhoof. One by one they passed, until the last of the carriages dropped its anchor and began the slow descent down the hill towards Everfree.

It took the young stallion several more seconds to shut his gaping jaw, shake his head, and excitedly flutter after the exotic carriages, which were swiftly becoming little more than glistening blocks of light along a pale dirt road.

Commander Hurricane frowned at his reflection in the polished onyx of his galea. The ever-so-slightly uneven finish of the helmet warped and distorted his likeness in a hundred little ways, leading to a rather ghastly image when he opened his mouth to ensure his teeth were clean and that he didn’t have any mementos of the morning meal stuck to his muzzle. Grunting, the pegasus lifted the helmet over his head and settled it into place on his skull, which made his ears twitch once or twice as they slid through the holes in the top.

“Big day, hmm?” Twister asked from his side. The brown mare held a pair of wingblades in her hooves and nodded to her brother, who extended his bare left wing for her.

“It’ll be the first time Queen Jade has visited Everfree in person since the city was founded,” Hurricane answered. He rolled his shoulder as the familiar weight of the wingblade settled onto the bony crest of his wing, and held the appendage up to his face to tighten down the straps with his teeth. Twister meanwhile moved to her brother’s opposite side and helped secure the other wingblade.

“Then I can see why Platinum wants you in full armor for this meeting,” Twister said around the leather strap between her teeth. With one last tug, she pulled the strap tight and slid it between Hurricane’s secondary feathers so it wouldn’t bother him. “First impressions and all that.”

Hurricane absently hummed and flexed his wings once Twister took a few steps back. The razor-sharp scales slid over each other with a hiss of oil and nothing more, just as the pegasus commander expected. He’d spent a good hour or two the night before getting ready for today, and that meant all his armor had to be polished to a sheen and the segments greased to silence.

He folded his now-bladed wings against his armored body and hefted an older set of iron and gold armor off of a nearby stand. The armor was sized for a mare, and Twister sighed and held her wings straight up so Hurricane could slide the armor onto her back. “You know I hate armor,” she said, frowning as she wriggled her shoulders to get her wings to slide comfortably through the holes in the back.

“Tradition,” Hurricane merely answered, helping his sister tighten the leather straps under her belly and across her chest.

“Yeah, well tradition sucks,” Twister said, continuing to frown while her brother fastened bracers to each of her four legs. “Seriously, this armor chafes my coat, and I get sweaty in uncomfortable places. Plus Echo won’t even let me into bed with him until I’ve bathed after I’ve worn it. It makes me smell worse than him, and he’s the one working at a smithy all day.”

“Then pass a resolution that you don’t have to wear it,” Hurricane said. “It shouldn’t be that hard.”

“It is that hard,” Twister muttered. Snatching her crimson cloak in her teeth, she fastened the gold buttons together around her neck and draped it across her left shoulder. “The older senators won’t hear anything of it. Tradition this and tradition that.” She shook her head. “Tradition that died with the empire, but the graywings won’t get that.”

Hurricane chuckled lightly as he passed Twister her ceremonial sword before grabbing his own. “You’re the one that wanted to go into politics, Twist. Not me.” Two metallic snaps secured the sheath to his armor, and he made sure the hilt latch was snug against the cross guard of Procellarum. “Dealing with Platinum and Puddinghead is hard enough as is.”

“Oh?” Twister asked, raising an eyebrow over one of her golden eyes. “Wanna switch?”

“No, thank you,” Hurricane said, quickly shooting that idea down. “Parliament would be even worse.”

“It is,” his sister answered, shaking her head.

Just then, there was a knock on Hurricane’s door and Celestia poked her head inside. Her mane was bound with the gold ribbons and circlet she wore at the parade, and she likewise wore the same silk and gold dress. Gentle golden eyeshadow shimmered briefly in the torchlight as she blinked. “Are you two ready? The delegation is going to be here in a few minutes.”

Hurricane cast a sideways glance at Twister, who was adjusting that last straps on her armor, and nodded. “We’ll be down shortly. Are Platinum and Puddinghead ready?”

Celestia gave a short nod. “Puddinghead’s finishing up the last touches to his apparel, and as far as I can tell, the Queen has been ready since dawn.” She gave her bound mane an annoyed flick with her hoof. “The servants likewise made Luna and I presentable for the delegation, although I wish that they wouldn’t have bothered.”

Hurricane offered Celestia an encouraging smile. “You look wonderful. Regal and powerful. It’s a nice touch.”

The alicorn smiled warmly and looked back over her shoulder at a faint voice from somewhere down the hallway. “Thank you, Hurricane,” she responded with a faint smile and dip of her head. “We shouldn’t keep Platinum waiting much longer. I’ll see you in the throne room.”

With that, she disappeared down the hall, leaving Hurricane and Twister alone in Hurricane’s room. Turning to Twister, Hurricane wrapped his hooves around his younger sister and kissed her cheeks before pulling her into an embrace. They stood like that for a second, forelegs locked around each other’s shoulders as they shared a quiet moment, before they separated. With a sigh, Twister shook her mane out of her eyes and tilted her head up to Hurricane’s. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Hurricane said, and holding out his wing, he ushered his sister out the door and down the hall.

In the heart of the city, the Legion was hard at work. Several centuries had been deployed between downtown and the slums, and apart from time to rest and eat, their presence had remained, unchanging since they arrived two days prior. But the soldiers weren’t at the Choke to bolster its defenses; instead, they were doing the opposite, tearing apart the numerous checkpoints and emptying old armories along the main roads.

A brown pegasus clad in heavy skysteel armor leaned back against a nearby building. The gold trim on his armor and striped helmet plume identified him as a centurion, and he rested a heavy warhammer across his legs while he watched his century work. A cadre of milites were picking away at a nearby guard station with crowbars and saws, stripping off the wooden panels and dumping them in a pile in the slums. There, another group of soldiers distributed the scrap to the ponies that called the slums home, making sure that no one pony took more than their fair share back with them.

Reaching into the pouch bolted onto his armor, the pegasus pulled out a ragged cloth and absentmindedly ran it over the dense nimbus skysteel of his warhammer. So much to do on such short notice. He’d only gotten the order after lunch two days ago to deploy his century to the Choke to dismantle it, and apparently Parliament had only passed the proposition that morning. Stripping apart several months of military fortifications and structures was no easy task, especially when he was asked to have it done in two days. It was an order to do the impossible.

The centurion smirked to himself as he looked up and down the empty road that had once separated city from slum, fortunate from destitute. Apart from a few more resilient structures like the guard stations, almost everything was already gone. Hard work, some late nights and early mornings, and a lot of shouting had disassembled the perimeter in two days. It made the soldier proud, and as the milites pried the last of the guard station’s foundations from the ground, the centurion brushed a few loose gray and beige hairs back under his helmet and climbed to his hooves.

“You sorry sods done already?” the centurion barked as he strode over, shuffling his feathers back in order against his armor. The band of milites all jumped and quickly spun to attention, snapping their wings open in the traditional Cirran salute. Their hurried response however led to one of the privates smacking another in the face with his wing, leaving the struck pegasus to cough and sputter on his comrade’s feathers.

“Sir, yes sir!” the milites answered once they’d finally pulled themselves together.

The centurion shook his head. “At ease.” The four ponies immediately relaxed their wings and formed into a straight line across from their centurion. The brown pegasus gave them each a quick glance with his green eyes before tilting his head to the side. “Drop that wood off in the pile, then how about you lot have the rest of the day off. Get drunk and love your wives all night long. Gods know that you all could use it.”

“Sir,” the four milites answered, small smiles on their faces. The centurion dismissed them off with a wing and watched as they grabbed the last of the wood between their teeth or hauled it across their wings towards the pile. He turned away, intending to return to his spot in the shade and polish his hammer some more, when the fluttering of wings stopped him.

“Centurion Dusk Watch?” the pony, a mare, asked from over his shoulder.

“Private,” Dusk Watch answered, turning to face his subordinate. “Are they here already?”

The private nodded, her curly yellow mane dancing in front of her eyes. “They just entered the limits.”

Dusk Watch sighed, cracked his neck, then stomped out into the open. “Form up!” he bellowed, his order echoing out over the buildings. Everywhere he looked, the ponies of his century immediately stopped what they were doing and turned to face the street, wings extended in salute. Dusk Watch himself hung his warhammer on the hooks bolted into his armor and waited with the private at his side.

It took a minute, but soon enough, they arrived. Ten crystal carriages, each one pulled by a quartet of Union soldiers. Dusk Watch paid the crystal ponies little attention as they passed, his eyes instead focusing on the windows of the carriages. Eventually they settled on the fourth carriage as it passed, where he saw a shimmer of a green horn against the diamond glass. His eyes followed it until it disappeared further down the block amidst the other carriages in the caravan, and only when they were all gone did he move. He didn’t move far, though, before he heard the private’s voice again.

“Those were… crystal ponies?”

“Aye,” Dusk Watch said, giving a single nod. “A whole bunch of them. I guess Jade doesn’t trust us if she brought her best with her.”

“Jade? She’s here?” the private asked, somewhat incredulous. “Wow.”

“Don’t be so thrilled,” the centurion said, already beginning to walk away. The private blinked once and fluttered her wings to keep after him. “Foreign dignitaries are never fun.”

“What do you mean?”

Dusk Watch sighed and touched the pommel of his warhammer with a hoof. “Kiss sleep goodbye, because you’re not gonna see her again for a long time.”

Queen Platinum sat atop the throne of Equestria. While in truth there were three thrones, hers was the largest, the back rising as high and half again as she was tall and the armrests cast from silver, trimmed in gold, and studded with amethysts. Hurricane’s throne on her right was a simple, blockish thing made of iron and onyx, while Platinum had managed to tone down the originally garish design Puddinghead had wanted for his into a nicer varnished oak with delicately carved details.

Some ponies would think that it made Platinum unfairly seem more important than the other two triumvirs, but Platinum herself would disagree. Apart from being the only one of the three with royal blood, Hurricane and Puddinghead had both supported her in being the face of Equestria, and she was the one that presided over the day court. Hurricane was usually too busy managing the Legion to ever use his throne, and Puddinghead often spent his time doing… whatever it was that the chancellor usually did. So to her, it only made sense that the leader that spent the most time interacting with the public of Equestria should have the best possible furnishings to her throne.

However, it didn’t matter how splendid her throne was or how little the other two thrones were used; at the moment, she was the only one of the triumvir present in the throne room that was slowly filling with ponies from Parliament and other nobles who’d managed to secure a spot for the meeting with the Union’s delegation. Neither Hurricane nor Puddinghead were anywhere to be found, and Celestia had left a few minutes earlier to go look for them. That left Platinum to fidget on her throne and attempt to not chew her hooves off, with Luna standing over Puddinghead’s throne, obviously bored.

“Where are they?” Platinum muttered to herself. One of the legionaries had informed her a few minutes ago that the Union delegation had crossed the Choke and was en route to the castle, and she had been slowly working herself into a panic ever since. “Where are they, where are they, where are they?!”

“They’ll be here, Your Highness. You’re working yourself up over nothing,” Luna answered, turning a teal eye in the white unicorn’s direction. “They’ll be here on time. Celestia’s never late, but she’s never early, either.”

Platinum frowned. “She sounds just like Star Swirl.” She wiped a hoof across the base of her horn, careful not to get any of her makeup or powder on her lavish violet and silver dress. “I won’t stand the embarrassment of being the only triumvir to receive the delegation. Today is a very, very important day in Equestrian history, and I won’t let it be ruined by tardiness!”

Luna rolled her eyes and toyed with the silver-corded braids in her mane, trying to get her hair to rest more comfortably over her shoulder. Platinum caught the motion out of the corner of her eye, and she knitted her eyebrows together in response. “Please don’t mess with your mane, Luna. Sun and Stars know that it took long enough to get it together as is.”

“You’re telling me,” Luna grumbled, forcing herself to set her hooves back down on the marble dais. “I detest formal events.”

Platinum looked appalled, but the expression vanished so quickly under a neutral façade that Luna was honestly impressed and perhaps a little frightened. “If you’re going to pretend to be a goddess, then you have to act the part. Ponies expect to see you in beautiful and regal dress.”

Luna frowned and looked away. “I would have preferred to wear armor like Hurricane. It’d be better than this… thing,” she grumbled, poking at the high-backed and flared collar protecting her neck. At a sharp glare from Platinum, she groaned and buried her face into her forelimbs. “I don’t understand modern fashion.”

“You’re going to ruin your makeup,” Platinum reprimanded her, making Luna’s wings open in exasperation. Suddenly, her eyes darted forward to the front of the throne room, and she let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the heavens, they’re finally here!”

All eyes turned towards the front of the throne room, where Commander Hurricane and Chancellor Puddinghead led Celestia and Twister into the enormous vaulted room. Nobles and politicians bowed to the two triumvirs and Celestia as they passed, although they sharply raised back up to a standing posture before Twister could walk by. The brown mare locked eyes with Mayor Greenleaf for a brief second and flashed a haughty smile before the unicorn could turn away and ignore her. Seconds later, the pegasus politician split off from the rest of the VIPs and found a spot waiting for her amongst several senators towards the sides of the room.

Hurricane took his seat with a casual nod to Platinum, while Puddinghead all but flopped onto his throne. Celestia gave the Queen of Equestria a small smile before that turned into a smirk at her fidgeting sister. “I apologize for taking so long, but it doesn’t look like we’ve missed much of anything.”

“No, no, nothing at all,” Platinum said, rubbing a hoof against her brow. “I’m only going to need several glasses of wine to calm my nerves down when this is all over. Perhaps even cognac if things really get out of hoof. But that’s for then, and now’s for now.” Sitting upright and crossing her forelimbs over her lap, Platinum plucked an errant feather from Hurricane’s wing with her magic, making the armored stallion wince. “Honestly, Commander, I didn’t think it was molting season yet.”

Hurricane grumbled and sat as comfortably as his armor would allow him. Puddinghead, meanwhile, was rocking back and forth in his chair, barely holding in his excitement. “Oh boy oh boy, this is going to be so much fun!”

Once again, Platinum called upon her magic, this time to yank Puddinghead’s hat down over his face and make him stop wiggling. “For the love of all that is good, Chancellor, do not open your mouth and let me do all the talking. This is an important meeting, and Equestria needs to seem strong and united, especially with all we’ve been through as of late. I’m sure Hurricane would agree.” Without even waiting for Puddinghead’s nod, Platinum turned towards Celestia. “Remember to stand tall and erect. We want the Union to know that the gods are on our side, and do not speak to their delegation unless they ask you a direct question.”

Wordlessly, Celestia nodded and stood protectively behind Hurricane’s throne while Luna stood behind Puddinghead’s.

The five ponies waited on the dais for several minutes, some more patiently than others, until Star Swirl the Bearded entered the throne room. Clover the Clever and Diadem stood on opposite sides of the Equestrian Archmage, and curtsied in time with Star Swirl’s arthritic bow to the triumvirate. The three unicorns rose after a few seconds, and Clover and Diadem snuck off to the sidelines while Star Swirl levitated his hat off of his head and held it against his chest. “Your Highnesses and my Ladies, I present to you Queen Jade of the Crystal Union, Defender of the Peace and Keystone of Harmony, and her entourage.”

With one last bow, Star Swirl joined Clover and Diadem off to the side as several figures entered the throne room behind him. A nearly inaudible collective gasp filled the room as the ponies entered, their crystalline skin scattering the light into an incredible kaleidoscope of infinite colors. While nearly two dozen crystal ponies entered the room in an orderly line, the eyes of everypony present were drawn to the tall green mare leading the procession.

Queen Jade stood proudly above her fellow crystal ponies with her wings outstretched and her chin held high. Her namesake coat glistened like polished glass in the high noon light, and her mane was so intricately woven in and around her horn and ears that it would have been indistinguishable from a crown, were it not for the actual crown perched atop her brow. Fine golden chains hung from her wings to the silk dress that flowed around her slender legs, and several pendants of rubies and sapphires dangled from her lengthy and well-defined horn. Long eyelashes framed crystal-clear sky blue eyes, which made unwavering eye contact with Queen Platinum as the crystal ponies approached the thrones.

Only one other pony had the honor to walk at Jade’s side. While nowhere near the mare’s equal in stature, an amber earth pony confidently trotted along to keep up with her lengthy gait. His brown mane hung above green eyes and below a feathered hat, and slick brown vestments reminiscent of the stallion’s days as a representative covered his body. A small platinum band encircled his right fetlock—an identical copy to the one Jade wore around hers.

“Smart Cookie!” Puddinghead exclaimed, jumping out of his throne before either Platinum or Luna had a chance to react. The brown earth pony more or less tripped down the stairs as he scrambled towards his old friend, and Smart Cookie dashed forward to catch the Chancellor before he could plant his face on the marble floor in front of a hundred nobles and dignitaries. The crystal ponies around Jade tensed up, but Jade wore a smile on her face that was born out of bemusement and surprise while the two earth ponies embraced.

“Ugh… even after all these years I still have to stop you from making a fool of yourself, don’t I, Puddinghead?” Smart Cookie grunted.

“Ohmygosh Smart Cookie, it’s been sooooooooooooo long since I last saw you!” The Chancellor began to bounce up and down on his hooves, and Queen Platinum died a little on the inside. “How have you been?! What have you been up to?! Is it cold that far north?! Are the buildings literally made out of gems?! Is Jade really that good in—?!”

Platinum interrupted with a rather loud cough into her hoof. “Thank you, Chancellor, for making the delegation feel welcome. Now, if you would kindly return to your throne…”

Puddinghead rolled his eyes and climbed up the steps towards his throne. “We’ll talk later, mmkay BFF?”

Smart Cookie nodded and gave the usual uncomfortable smile that invariably made its way onto his face when dealing with Puddinghead. “Of course, Chancellor.”

When the Chancellor was back in his proper place, Platinum took a deep breath and shook her bangs out of her face. “Well! On behalf of Equestria and everypony present in this room, I do apologize for the Chancellor’s erratic behavior. I assure you, it won’t happen again.”

Jade gave a causal curtsy to Platinum, and her train of servants and soldiers likewise bowed and curtsied. “Please, that won’t be necessary,” Jade assured her. “I met the Chancellor five years ago at the battle of Onyx Ridge, as I’m sure you recall. He actually saved my life in the fighting.”

Puddinghead blinked. “Oh yeah, I did do that, didn’t I?” He looked into the foreground and smiled. “And you guys think I’m useless!”

Both Hurricane and Platinum gave Puddinghead confused looks before Platinum resumed speaking. “Yes, yes, I remember Onyx Ridge well. I suppose our fates intersected at that particular engagement, even if our paths themselves did not cross. Still, it is my honor—our honor,” and here she gestured to the four ponies around her, “to welcome you to Equestria, home of the ever-free. May our goddesses give you their blessings.”

Celestia and Luna nodded from behind the thrones, and Jade’s eyes wandered over each of them, as if picking each alicorn apart. Finally, she bowed her head low, but she did not prostrate herself like Platinum had believed she would. “Mare of Sun and Mare of Moon,” Jade said, respectfully keeping her eyes closed. “It is an honor to be in your presence. News travels fast, even to a land as far away as mine. Equestria must truly be blessed to have you in their midst.”

“This land needed us,” Celestia answered, raising her chin and speaking with authority laced with kindness. “They had suffered through so much for so long, and my sister and I simply could not stand by the wayside and let their beautiful nation crumble. So we intervened, and Equestria is strong once more.”

Jade raised her head from the floor and respectfully tipped her horn, although her ears flattened by just the tiniest amount when she heard the word ‘suffered’. “Then they are even more fortunate for your timely arrival. Your presence will do them much good in the years to come.” She paused and shook her head slightly, a sorrowful smile on her face. “I apologize if my words sound irreverent. My beliefs lie with the Artist, not with the avatars of the sun and stars. I pray that you will hold no ill-will against me or my kind for admitting this.”

Celestia smiled comfortingly at the mortal alicorn. “I’ve met ponies of many beliefs across the millennia. Believe me when I say that I’ve known several who believe in the Artist as you do; some were close friends of ours.”

Once more, Jade bowed, although this time she swept one of her glittering wings across her chest as she did so. “Your words mean much to me, Mare of Sun. I look forward to speaking with you more, should you be inclined.” The white alicorn gave a small nod, and Jade turned her attention back towards Platinum. “For now, though, my ponies are tired from the journey, and rest would be greatly appreciated.”

Platinum nodded. “I shall have servants escort you to your quarters. In the meantime—”

Whatever Platinum had to say was lost as the throne room doors slammed open in a brilliant display of pale gold. Several nearby ponies backed away in surprise and fear as an elderly unicorn stormed his way to the front of the throne room. Outside, a pair of semi-conscious legionaries groaned where they lay on the ground.

“Leave for ten minutes to relieve aging bowels and everypony forgets about you,” the unicorn muttered to himself. Slimming black robes rippled around his fetlocks, the red satin trim faintly glowing in the light scattered off of the crystal ponies. Chapped and withered lips twisted into a harsh frown as crystal servants and soldiers alike shuffled out of his way in silent fear, apparently too slow for his liking—he bluntly picked them up with his magic and shuffled them aside as one might move pieces on a chessboard. His uneven yet swift gait was accompanied by the sharp clack of his walking stick—which appeared to have formerly been the spine of some unusually large creature—against the marble floor, and his eyes wandered over the extravagant architecture and décor in the room with obvious disdain. “I’m rather impressed…” he drew in a wheezing breath. “…that a nation splitting at the seams could put together such a charade. How did a fledgling state with a failing economy manage to pay for it? Or were the slums I saw on the way in where you keep your slave labor?”

Hurricane leaned forward in his iron throne, practically bristling. “Who are you, old man, and what did you do to the legionaries guarding the doors?”

Despite the intensity of Hurricane’s glare, the old pony seemed unfazed. He spent more than a few seconds of laborious motionlessness catching his breath, marked only by the flaring of his nostrils. Then he stood up, ran a hoof along the few wayward creases on his trim, almost military jacket, and finally raised his head. “Your soldiers are quite well, I assure you; ripping out their souls would never be worth the mana.” Several of the ponies present recoiled at the incredibly casual observation. Jade alone moved closer to the gaunt and withered stallion.

“Mind yourself—”

“Empress, with respect, I know the boundaries of polite discourse far better than you likely ever will. We didn’t come here to start a war, though I admit the thought is amusing. Now…” Striding away from the towering alicorn, noticeably absent the limp he had been affecting on his rushed entrance, the stallion approached the triumvirate. “You must be the legendary Commander Hurricane. It’s a unique honor to finally meet the ruler of the pegasi, though having met your son, I admit I half expected another giant. Was his mother a bear?”

In a display of impressive curmudgeonliness reflecting the growing gray in his mane, Hurricane’s glare grew deeper. “Who are you?”

“Why, I’m glad you asked, Commander.” The unicorn swept a hoof across his chest and offered the very slightest of bows to the enthroned rulers of the new nation. “I am—”

“Wintershimmer the Ruthless.” The words were spoken with a peculiar spite, and a level of sheer hatred that nopony had ever heard before from the speaker’s mouth. Stepping out of the crowd of servants and retainers amidst the throne room was none other than Star Swirl himself, his golden eyes locked on the clean-shaven wizard standing at the front of the room. The bells on his robes jingled with each step, and he bared his teeth through the scowl on his face. “And here I was hoping that this would be a civil meeting between our two nations.”

“I don’t see any call for that, Star Swirl,” Wintershimmer answered with barely concealed rage in his own calm tones. “The last time we met, we parted peacefully. That is why my appellation is ‘the Complacent’, as you might recall.” Then, obviously lying with the expression, the clean-shaven wizard donned a forced smile. “Though I have to admit, ‘the Ruthless’ does have a nice ring to it. I assume you’re still referred to by your substandard grooming habits?”

Star Swirl snarled behind his namesake beard. “I was hoping the barbarians would have split your horn.”

“Star Swirl!” Platinum practically hissed. A few others gasped at the poisoned remark the normally collected old stallion let loose from his lips.

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Wintershimmer told the unicorn monarch, his parched lips and gaunt cheeks falling back to an utterly unamused expression. “They did try at first, Star Swirl. No point denying history. Or did you actually tear my pages from the Tourmaline Grimoire? Did you need more room for your barely-literate scrawling about an amniomorphic spell?”

“It’s omniomorphic,” a younger and only slightly less spirited voice broke into the conversation. Emerging from the already crowded mass amidst the three thrones, Clover the Clever’s hooves found their way down from the dais toward the far-older unicorn. “It means ‘all-forms,’ not some pottery spell. If you were half the wizard you claimed to be, surely you’d understand that much.”

Wintershimmer smiled. The room grew very, very quiet. Then he spoke. “Ah, Clover the Clever! My hero! I've been so excited to meet you!"

At the sudden, uncharacteristically warm greeting, the grumblings and the tension in the room gave way to surprise. Even Queen Jade and Smart Cookie cocked their heads and raised their eyebrows at just how genuine Wintershimmer had sounded.

Clover blinked and held one forehoof in midair, confused. “Excuse me?”

"The mare who fixed King Topaz' folly and brought the earth ponies back into the fold, stopped a brooding war, and founded a nation. Certainly, the cost was high, but you didn't hesitate. A mare after my own heart." In his continuation, he strode forward, leaning on the spine that served as his staff, until he was comfortably face-to-face with Clover.

“Clover has nothing to do with the void crystal you call your heart, Wintershimmer,” Star Swirl snarled.

Queen Jade looked apologetically towards the triumvirate of Equestria before hissing at her own archmage. “Wintershimmer...”

Without looking at his rival or his queen, Wintershimmer continued. “All derision aside, Clover, I have to respect you. You’ve more than earned your appellation for how fast you must have been thinking that day.”

The young archmage herself, clearly confused by the compliments of a stallion who had filled the ghost stories of her training, struggled for words. “Um… It’s not really fair to say I did all that. Commander Hurricane and Princess Platinum and Chancellor Puddinghead were the ones who really founded Equestria. I just—”

"Don't deny your due place in history, Clover. Had you not bravely spared the last Windigo—” Clover gasped. Hurricane rose from his seat. Star Swirl’s horn ignited. Wintershimmer didn’t stop. “—and condemned the Diamond Kingdoms and the Low Valleys to become an icy grave for thousands, there would be no reason to come here. No Equestria. I'm surprised Star Swirl hasn't tried to have you banished for knowingly condemning River Rock to eternal winter, given his misguided morals.”

“Archmage…” Jade growled from the depths of her throat.

“But I, for one, would like to thank you for making the hard conscious decision to pay that terrible price and work toward a better future for all ponies. I only hope history remembers your courage for what it is."

“Clover didn’t try to freeze the Compact Lands!” Chancellor Puddinghead shouted over the shocked mutterings filling the throne room. “Maybe a jerk like you doesn’t understand sympathy!”

“Sympathy?” Wintershimmer scoffed. “For primal spirits of ice and hatred? I’ve known a fair few earth ponies in my day, but you are by far the prime example of your species.” More than one of the gathered gasped at the sheer potency of Wintershimmer’s racism, yet his tirade proceeded unabated. “Every mage worth their salt knows that Windigoes are creatures literally incapable of expressing kindness or mercy. Thus, there are only two possibilities: either Clover made a calculated assessment to condemn the Diamond Kingdoms and the Low Valleys to eternal winter because she saw some sort of gain from that exchange, or she is an imbecile.” With a nod to the earth pony, he added, “I prefer to see the glass as half-full, though I admit it would be a rarity from somepony under Star Swirl’s mentorship—”

“That’s it!” A young mare forced her way out of the masses around the edges of the room and approached Star Swirl. “Do you think you can get away with just being a bully? Star Swirl is a great wizard! Maybe he stood up to you, or maybe you just have some sort of inferiority complex, but nopony wants to hear you taking stabs at him!”

Wintershimmer’s artificial expression fell away, and his gaunt cheeks went slack. Diadem met his gaze without fear.

At least, at first. The room was entirely silent, breaths bated on whether or not the rumored evil of the wizard would manifest.

Wintershimmer closed his mouth. His brow grew tight. His horn ignited. In that moment, the room moved. Star Swirl, Clover, and Celestia all gathered their magic. Hurricane drew Procellarum, and dozens of guards, both Cirran and Crystal, readied their arms.

In a steady telekinetic grip, Wintershimmer lifted a pair of round, gold-rimmed spectacles out of his coat and onto his muzzle. Once they were settled into place, his magic faded. The room breathed a sigh of relief.

“I see you are real. For a moment, I couldn’t believe my eyes. A filly your age standing up to me? Directly? You’re quite brave. What do your peers call you, little one?”

“I’m Diadem,” the young unicorn replied.

“I see. And do you know who I am, Diadem?”

“You’re Wintershimmer the Complacent,” Diadem told him. “You were Star Swirl’s friend; you shared a mentor. Then when she died, you killed a unicorn to take their horn, and then tried to graft it onto an earth pony, which drove him mad.” A few gasps and whispers could be heard around the room. “When you were caught, you invoked the Complacency of the Learned to run away from Star Swirl instead of fighting him. King Lapis banished you from the Diamond Kingdoms.”

Wintershimmer nodded. “And do you believe that story?”

Diadem nodded.

“It isn’t entirely accurate, but for the sake of argument, I shall pretend it isn’t a slanted history. You know who I am. You know I am the peer, if not the better, of your beloved ill-groomed mentor. Yet you approach me, and stand up to me, without fear? Without respect?” Then Wintershimmer smiled again, like a wolf over an injured rabbit.

Diadem puffed out her chest, sucked in a breath, blinked once, and held her gaze against the ancient wizard’s. “I’m strong, Wintershimmer. And my teachers are the best two wizards in the whole world. You might be evil, but you don’t scare me!”

“Diadem…” Clover’s words trailed off when Star Swirl placed a firm hoof on the mare’s shoulder.

Wintershimmer held his attention on the filly before him. “Evil is the monster under an adult’s bed, but I won’t lecture you on morality. You’re right, Diadem. You are powerful. Your horn is tightly coiled, and long for a filly your age. If my spectacles aren’t lying to me, you might well be able to stand hoof to hoof with Clover if you were to simply pour mana at one another. And while I disagree with your assessment of the quality of your mentorship, I won’t make myself a liar by claiming they lack experience or force of mana.” The wrinkled, gaunt unicorn leaned forward. “And all those truths are meaningless.”

Diadem shook her head. “No, they’re important! Star Swirl and Clover—”

“—are the blanket you hold up to conceal your inadequacies as an aspiring mage,” Wintershimmer completed. “The coiling of your horn and the strength of your magic don’t determine your quality as a wizard. That understanding is why I invoked Complacency when I faced Star Swirl fifty-five years ago. A real wizard is not defined by their body, or who they are. They are defined by their achievements. Their legacy. The magic they leave behind when they die.

“When we were your age, Diadem, both Star Swirl and I had already begun to write in the Tourmaline Grimoire. Ponies in the Diamond Guard cast spells bearing our names. We enchanted for the king and explored the mysteries of the world. We had ambition. And if you possessed even the slightest fragment of that singular drive, you would have told me what you had done, instead of hiding behind the supposed accomplishments of your tragically undriven mentors.”

Diadem’s eyes widened, and Wintershimmer’s magic pulled the spectacles from his muzzle.

“Then I will ask you once again: who are you to stand here and look me in the eye?”

“I…” Diadem’s voice floundered. “I…”

“You are nothing,” Wintershimmer concluded, his voice remaining calm and factual despite its brutal content. “Tragic, yet typical of Star Swirl. Instead of an apprentice who could ever achieve something of worth, he chose a foal with an ideal horn and assumed he could teach ambition.”

“You’re wrong!” Diadem shouted, though her words quivered, and her eyes wrinkled up. “I’ll… I’ll make all kinds of magic! I’m already researching void crystals!”

Wintershimmer shook his head, almost managing to look genuinely saddened. “A tool that has been fully understood in the Crystal Empire for millennia. You don’t even believe yourself when you make those claims, do you? Ponies don’t change, Diadem. I don’t even need to read your mind to see that you’re too terrified of failure to have dreams of success. Star Swirl and Clover can tell you they believe in you all they want, but that won’t get rid of the nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you of all your failures. Do you understand, Diadem? It’s no different than any more conventional illusion. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can never make yourself believe.”

Diadem scrunched up her face, trying to hide her tears, but the motion only wrung them out of her eyes. Two drops, then three, and then a trickle. A sniffle. “But… my cutie mark…”

“It marks your failure more than anything I could ever say.” Wintershimmer smiled as he said it. “The star of magic has seven points.”

Diadem turn and ran.

The room was dead quiet at first; a stunned silence filled the stone halls of the castle as the realization that an old stallion had torn apart the dreams of a filly five times his junior. It ended with a furious shout. “Wintershimmer!” The voice hailed from inches over the old wizard’s shoulder, and he turned to find Queen Jade quite literally breathing down his neck. “That is quite far enough! What did that filly ever do for you?”

“Propagate a philosophy that is destroying the study of magic,” Wintershimmer answered in a disinterested tone. “I never lied to her, Jade. I didn’t hurt her. My magic never touched her.”

“You’ve hurt that filly more than you could possibly understand,” the glimmering alicorn countered. “Say your peace to the Ladies of the Sun and Moon so we can save some shred of face, and we’ll be done here.”

Wintershimmer rolled his eyes. “I am an atheist, Empress. I do not believe in ‘the Artist.’ I do not believe in supernatural beings controlling the sun and stars. As your magical advisor, I assure you those aren’t ponies, and they most certainly aren’t gods. If I had to guess, Star Swirl and his cronies summoned a few spirits and had them take those forms in the hope that we would submit ourselves to their rule out of some sense of religious obligation.”

Behind Puddinghead’s seat, Luna bared her teeth and started opening her wings to their full length. Only a gentle touch from her sister’s wingtip and a shake of her springtime mane stopped the younger alicorn from demonstrating to Wintershimmer just how much of a goddess she was.

Jade groaned. “You have the sincerest apologies of the Crystal Empire,” she said to the leaders, forcefully brushing aside the elder stallion. From the look on Wintershimmer’s face, it was immediately apparent that Jade was the only pony who could do so without some kind of repercussion from the unicorn. “I did not bring him lightly, but I have no other magical advisor of his caliber.”

“Oh, stop apologizing.” When the Queen of the Crystal Empire looked up, Wintershimmer had already fixed his robes and made his way across the room to another set of doors, where two more Cirran legionaries were slumped over slumbering on the floor. “You’re going to ruin our image.” With those staggering words, the old wizard leaned on the spine that was his staff and strode out of the chamber.

The corner of Platinum’s muzzle twitched as she watched him go, and it took all her effort to repress a snarl. She fixed Jade with a stern, seething glare, and nodded curtly towards the doors Wintershimmer made his abrupt exit through. “You may leave,” she deadpanned, trying her hardest to keep her wavering voice at an appropriate volume. “And might I suggest leaving your arch magus behind, next time. He has a terrible reputation amongst the unicorn populace, and with today’s display, the rest of the nation as well. You would do well to find somepony else.”

“And inform him that he will not use force against the Legion again,” Hurricane cut in before Jade could respond. “I don’t care what self-justified reasons he thinks he has; any more trouble on his part and I’ll have to detain him. Understood?”

Jade met Hurricane’s level stare and gave the tiniest tilt of her muzzle down in response. “I can only limit him, Commander, but I will see to it that he controls his magic.”

“Good,” Hurricane answered, leaning back in his throne. “Four legions will be ready to intervene if he does not.”

Jade scoffed. “You give him too much credit. As formidable as he is, I don’t think it will take thousands of soldiers to restrain him. Besides, for all your military pomp on our way into Everfree, I estimated no more than a legion’s worth of soldiers spread throughout the city limits.” There was a glint in her eye. “I was once a military commander too, Hurricane. I know how Cirrans work.”

Hurricane narrowed his magenta eyes at her. “I never said anything about the legions in Everfree.”

Puddinghead suddenly clapped his hooves together before things could get any more out of hoof than they already were. “Well, I think it’s time that we let our shiny friends get some rest, don’tcha think?” he asked. Hopping to his hooves, he bowed so low his hat almost fell off of his head. “Welcome to Equestria! I hope you all have a wonderful stay!”

The stone halls of the castle were busy, yet they were empty. They were noisy, yet quiet. The display in the throne room earlier in the day had settled a foreboding mood over the entirety of the castle. Servants went to and fro as quickly and as quietly as they could, and the legionaries were more vigilant than ever, all because of the temper of one archmage from the far north.

The effect that temper had had on one filly in particular echoed down the stone halls near Star Swirl’s study. Frustrated howls punctuated by small sniffles accompanied flashing lights of arcane energy, silhouetting a short unicorn on the wall across from the open door. There was a flash, a crack, and a sound like the tinkling of falling glass across a stone floor. Another frustrated howl.

Down the hall, Star Swirl and Clover exchanged concerned looks. They refrained from approaching the study—for the moment. Some part of the both of them knew that it’d be best for Diadem to boil off as much of her frustration as possible.

Clover frowned as the study went silent. “You know… I know what you told me about him. I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said, her gaze drifting to the floor. “But she’s still just a filly…”

Star Swirl’s nostrils flared and his brow furrowed. “Wintershimmer has no compassion, my dear Clover. He traded it in for ambition long ago, and see how far it’s gotten him.”

“Yeah, but…” the pistachio green mare sighed and shook her head. “Is it really true what he says? That he can rip out a pony’s soul?”

“Were it only a story,” Star Swirl muttered, shaking his head. “Wintershimmer does not duel like you or I know how to. He does not fight. He ends. I’ve never seen the spell in action myself, but I do not doubt that he’s mastered it. Wintershimmer is not one to boast about lies.”

“So what about the story with the unicorn horn?” Clover asked. “Did he really murder a unicorn in cold blood?”

The elderly archmage was silent for several seconds before answering. “No,” he said. “No, he didn’t. Our old mentor was dying. She was elderly and pneumonia was taking hold. He never acted against her while she ailed, but he followed her like a wolf. Day in and day out he would check in on her under the guise of being a concerned apprentice. But when she finally did die…

“It was a closed casket funeral. Nopony really understood why at the time; pneumonia does not mangle the flesh. It wasn’t until a week later that I stumbled upon Wintershimmer’s experiment, a poor captive earth pony with my mentor’s horn magically fused to his skull, that I understood why.”

Star Swirl turned to Clover and looked her in the eye. “That stallion is dangerous, Clover. He does not lie, but he never tells the whole truth either. He only tells his truth. That in itself can be more dangerous than any falsehood.”

Sniffling down the hall broke off any further conversation. The two archmages exchanged looks before Clover advanced towards the study, followed at a distance by Star Swirl. The green mare stopped by the doorframe, drew a collected breath, and rapped quietly on the jamb. “Diadem? Are you alright?”

The silence told her far more than the filly’s eventual answer. “…Fine.”

Pursing her lips, Clover entered the study, Star Swirl not far behind her. Diadem stood with her forelegs on a desk and a collection of gems of various kinds around her, many of which were split open or shattered. The hiss of ambient mana leaking back into the air from the shards filled the silence between Diadem’s gradually slowing panting breaths.

“Diadem…” Clover began.

“It’s not fair!” Diadem exclaimed, cutting Clover off before she had the chance to continue. “Why does he think he can just walk all over everypony?! Why does he think he’s so much better than everypony else?!”

In the doorway, Star Swirl sighed and shook his head, the bells along his cap jingling lightly. “Ambition and jealousy,” he answered. His magic levitated over a chair, and he sat down in it with aching and popping arthritic joints. “Let me tell you a story from when I was your age,” he said, and he drew out his clay pipe from between his robes with another flourish of magic. “When Wintershimmer and I were both apprentices to Archmage Comet.”

Diadem’s ears perked up a little, and she turned away from the desk to face Star Swirl. “Mrs. Comet? Your old mentor? I remember talking to her when you taught me séance.” Her face brightened just the tiniest amount. “She was really nice, Swirly!”

Star Swirl rolled his eyes and lit his pipe with a spark of mana. “Yes, she was nice, but she was a senile old woman when I knew her—in an endearing sort of way.”

Clover cocked her head. “I don’t think you’ve ever explained why Comet took on two apprentices.”

Star Swirl ran a hoof through his beard. “She never intended to, honestly. She was old even when I first met her; I can assure you that teaching two mischievous colts or fillies about the intricacies of high-level casting was the last thing she wanted to do. However, after the testing, I think she saw an opportunity to do something unique; either that, or she felt she was compelled to, although knowing Comet, that seems highly unlikely.”

Seeing his current and former apprentices sitting around and paying close attention to him, Star Swirl chuckled and drew from his pipe, blowing a smoke cloud which quickly took on the semblance of a large city. “We were both fourteen at the time…

The balustrades of Castle Burning Hearth’s many balconies were carved in such a way that the afternoon sun turned the pink granite floor into a mural with their shadows. Outlines of powerful nobles and gentle mares seemed to dance to some quiet, forgotten song in the shadows they cast.

A much younger and notably baby-faced Star Swirl leaned on one such balustrade halfway up the cliff face that the castle was built into. Before him, the whole of River Rock sprawled across its valley, sweeping left and right across the river that gave the city its name. The sun dazzled over the crystal waters and reflected off of the copper gutters and diamond windows of the houses on the west bank, where all the nobles lived secluded from the peasants closer to the castle.

“Starry!” A colt’s excited shout snapped the olive pony away from the mesmerizing scene, and Star Swirl turned to see a grinning gray unicorn gallop down the halls towards him. He suddenly stuck his hooves out in front of him and skidded the last twenty feet, coming to a stop mere inches from Star Swirl’s nose. “You ready, or did you chicken out?”

Star Swirl grinned back at the gray colt and lightly punched his horn. “I’d never chicken out, Winter. I’m ready for whatever they throw at me.” He crossed his eyes at Wintershimmer. “Are you ready?”

Wintershimmer enthusiastically bobbed his head. “Yep! I’ve been practicing all night for today! What do you think they’re gonna want us to do?”

The olive colt shrugged. “I dunno; I’ve spent weeks memorizing every spell I can think of. And I heard that the Archmage herself is going to be there!” He shuddered with nervous excitement. “What do you think we’re gonna have to do to pass?”

Wintershimmer’s face grew a little paler when he heard that. “Oh, uh… I-I don’t know,” he admitted, his ears folding back against his head. “Probably something really hard… I mean, the Archmage can only take one apprentice, r-right?”

“Yeah,” Star Swirl answered. “It’s probably gonna be really hard.” Then he stuck his chest out with all the brazen confidence of a teenager. “But it won’t be too bad! Mom says I’ve got some of the strongest magic ever!”

The gray colt faltered a little bit. “Y-yeah, well I’m gonna get the apprenticeship first!”

“It doesn’t matter who gets it first, you dodo. It’s about who gets it last!”

“Then I’ll get it last too!”

The sudden opening of a grand pair of doors at the far end of the hall broke the pair of colts away from their petty argument and only fueled their excitement. A emerald unicorn mare stuck her head through the door and narrowed her eyes through her spectacles at the apprenticeship hopefuls. “Colts, the testing is to begin soon. I don’t believe I need to remind you that once the doors to the Arcanaeum open, nopony is allowed inside the study until an apprentice is selected.”

Star Swirl and Wintershimmer looked at each other, at the mare, and back at each other. Immediately, both colts galloped for the door and the mare, with Wintershimmer’s longer legs outpacing Star Swirl’s. The emerald mare waited until both had sped past her, then rolled her eyes and shut the door.

The doors opened into the Grand Study in front of the Arcanaeum, where eight other colts and fillies milled about, practicing their various spells. Star Swirl and Wintershimmer gawked at the enormous windows spaced between even larger bookshelves, shedding the fine golden glow of daylight across the grandiose room. Both unicorns knew that the windows were fake and only enchanted to look like the sun’s light, as the Arcanaeum, like much of the castle, was embedded within the stone of the cliff that protected River Rock from the elements.

A rough shove to their flanks knocked both colts out of their sightseeing and nearly onto their faces. The emerald mare pointed towards a pair of large benches in the middle of the room, only one of which the other teenagers were sitting at. “Take a seat at the end of that bench and wait until you’re called,” she droned. “When you finish your test, you’ll come back here and sit on the opposite bench and wait. Silently. Talking with another finalist about the test is strictly forbidden and you will be disqualified if you do so.” She bent over to fix both colts with a stare that was both harsh and bored. “Any questions?”

“No ma’am!” both colts hastily replied as they simultaneously took a step back.

“Good.” Her magic took hold of her glasses and adjusted them as she took a seat next to the door. Apparently done with the tediously exhausting business of dealing with fillies and colts for the day, she opened a thick tome and laid it before her, her eyes scanning the pages at a blistering speed while her ears remained erect and pointed in the direction of the rest of the prospective apprentices.

Taking that as their cue to leave, Star Swirl and Wintershimmer trotted over to the end of the large bench and sat down. Up and down the long pew, five fillies and three other colts practiced various spells from the different schools, recited dry magical theory to themselves, or simply chatted with one another. Behind it all, however, was a fierce determination that they would be Archmage Comet’s apprentice, not anypony else present. Star Swirl’s heart fluttered with excitement. Wintershimmer’s thundered with anxiety.

Almost as soon as they’d taken their seats, the doors to the Arcanaeum were flung open. Striding into the middle of the Grand Study was a sky blue mare with a graying golden mane that started in large curls near her scalp and ended in long, smooth waves at her shoulders. Her cherry surcoat complimented the blue of her fur beautifully, and the only jewelry the mare wore was a simple platinum pendant inset with rubies around the base of her tightly coiled and surprisingly pronounced horn.

“Well!” the mare exclaimed in a slightly flagging voice that gave away her old age. “What do we have here? Oh, look, it’s my future apprentice!”

The mare threw her forelegs into the air with a large smile on her face. The ten juvenile unicorns in the room blinked at her in confusion. One of the colts near the front turned to look behind him.

Slam! The mare suddenly materialized a large walking staff from the impossibly small folds of her surcoat and slammed it against the floor in front of the colt. “You. Leave. Goodbye. Tata. Au revoir.”

The colt jumped in shock and fell off the bench, nearly knocking over a filly sitting next to him. “W-what?” he sputtered, looking up in disbelief. “W-what do you m-mean?”

“You lack confidence,” the mare explained, drawing her walking stick back towards her side with her magic. “You looked around to see if I was referring to somepony else. Obviously, you did not have enough faith in yourself, nor the desire to believe I was referring to you. I will not have some foal unsure of himself and second guessing his own brilliance to serve at my side.”

“But… but…”

The mare in the surcoat sighed and cast a pleading glance towards the emerald mare in the back of the room. Wordlessly, the latter grabbed the colt’s tail with her magic and dragged him away from his peers. Only when the doors shut again and the emerald mare sat back down at her seat, did the one in the surcoat continue.

“One down. Eight to go,” she said. Stepping forward, she began to pace up and down the length of the bench. “Now, as I’m sure those of you with any sort of wit guessed, I am Archmage Comet. You may also call me Archmage or Miss Comet. If you refer to me by any other name, you will not be my apprentice. Am I understood?”

A series of frightened nods answered her, and a small smirk made its way onto her face. “Good,” Comet said. Then, nodding towards the juvenile closest to her on the bench, she gestured towards the door. “Come. You’re first. If you’re going to fail, fail quickly so I can get to the rest of your friends.”

All eyes fixed on a nervous filly with a bright orange coat as she hopped off the bench and galloped after the Archmage. Only when she was at the threshold to the Arcanaeum and Comet had already gone inside did she stop long enough to take a deep breath and trot into her final examination.

The doors shut with a thunderous boom behind her.

Wintershimmer and Star Swirl exchanged glances once it was over. All throughout the study, the young unicorns murmured to each other about what had just happened, and each thankful that the Archmage hadn’t sent them away instead. Spells flared to life with increased vigor and theory echoed off of the walls of the chamber faster than before as the unicorns went back to practicing and preparing for the inevitable.

Wintershimmer swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the elaborate doors leading into the Arcanaeum. “So… that was Archmage Comet?”

Star Swirl nodded breathlessly. “Yeah… she’s a lot more frightening than I thought she’d be.”

The gray colt bit his lip. “I-I don’t know if I can do this, Starry.”

One or two nearby teens perked their ears in Wintershimmer’s direction but just as quickly went back to their practices. Star Swirl frowned in their general direction for a second before turning back to Wintershimmer. “Come on, Winter, you can do it. I believe in you.”

“What if I can’t do what she wants, though?” Wintershimmer asked. “Somepony else will get the apprenticeship.”

“Winter, you’re awesome at magic!” Star Swirl insisted. “You passed the last round of exams with flying colors!”

Wintershimmer scoffed lightly. “Yeah, well, I know I’m better than pretty much everypony else at magic. It’s just…” his words trailed off as his eyes wandered over his competition—including Star Swirl. “What if I’m not the best?”

Star Swirl could only shrug and pat his friend on the shoulder. “Hey, just give it your best shot, you know? How hard could it—”

His words were cut off by the doors opening and the bright orange filly scampering out of the room. Her cheeks were red and her ears were flattened against her head, and she kept her eyes averted from everypony else in the room. Wordlessly, she sat down at the other long bench in the room with her back facing her peers.

Star Swirl and Wintershimmer both jumped when Archmage Comet called out “Next!” from the Arcanaeum. A brown colt nervously slid off the bench and trotted towards the door as fast as his shaky legs would allow, and the doors shut once more with the resounding boom behind him. All the apprentice prospects in the room looked at the orange filly, wondering just what exactly they were in for.

“Sun and Stars,” Star Swirl whispered. “That wasn’t more than a minute.”

Wintershimmer gave a shaky nod. “Yeah…”

They sat in silence from then on. The doors opened and closed at a frightening pace, and Star Swirl could only watch as the colts and fillies on his bench dwindled in number while the other bench slowly grew. All too quickly, it seemed, it was just Star Swirl and Wintershimmer sitting by themselves with six other hopefuls on the opposite bench.

Once more the doors opened, and a mint green filly scampered out, tears matting the fur on her cheeks. Almost immediately, Archmage Comet’s bored voice shouted “Next!” from within the Arcanaeum, and Star Swirl felt his heart skip a beat. He hopped off the bench and trotted towards the door, pausing only long enough to flash Wintershimmer a brave smile. Then he trotted into the massive library.

The thunderous boom of the doors shutting behind him echoed for what felt like ages in the empty halls of the Arcanaeum. Star Swirl flinched when they did so; there was no escape now, no turning back.

“Sit.” Archmage Comet’s voice drew Star Swirl over like a moth to a flame. The blue mare was seated at a grand curved desk devoid of anything apart from a simple iron box. While the Archmage herself had a rather large and plush high-backed chair of red velvet and gold, a little wooden stool with three gnarled legs was the only chair available for Star Swirl to sit in. Gulping, the colt trotted forward and carefully sat himself down across from Comet.

Comet flicked her ruby eyes up and down Star Swirl’s body. The colt suddenly felt naked and vulnerable seated alone before the elder mare, and he did his best not to fidget. Eventually, Comet nodded approvingly and leaned back in her chair. “Your name?”

Star Swirl blinked but quickly recovered from being suddenly addressed. “Star Swirl, ma’am.”

“Star Swirl…” Comet echoed to herself. She withdrew a small notepad and quill from the folds of her surcoat and scratched a few lines down in its pages. “Your father’s the noble who married the farm maiden, right?”

Star Swirl felt his ears burning and flattened them against his head. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he replied. That ‘mistake’ on his father’s part had practically destroyed his family’s social standing and earned Star Swirl himself endless amounts of ridicule as a unicorn lacking pure blood and little better than any of the earth ponies to the north. That Archmage Comet spoke so casually of it made the young olive unicorn feel even more uncomfortable.

“Good.” Setting her notepad and quill aside, she steepled her hooves together and rested her elbows on the table. “Well, young Star Swirl, do you think you have what it takes to become my apprentice?”

Star Swirl, remembering the example Comet had made of the colt before she even started testing everypony else, nodded vigorously. “Yes, ma’am!”

A ghost of a smile flickered at Comet’s lips. “Then surely you’ll be able to pass a simple test.” She nodded towards the iron box in front of her. “Open the box.”

Star Swirl nodded and grabbed the box with his magic, tilting it this way and that to get a good look at it. The iron surface was unblemished and polished to a near-shine, and the sides were uniformly designed so that it looked like a cube. A thin seam split the box into two halves, with a large lock on one side. There were most likely hinges on the other side, but they were probably concealed within the box.

“Oh, by the way,” Comet said, a small smirk on her face. “I forgot to mention that you only have one minute to open the box. Well… fifty-one seconds at this point.”

Star Swirl froze up upon hearing that, and Comet’s smirk grew larger. Realizing he was wasting precious time, the young unicorn immediately tried to brute force the box open. The container was too well designed for that, however, and no matter how he strained, he couldn’t get the box to budge in the slightest.

Chewing on his lip, he tried the next thing he could think of; trying to turn the tumblers with has magic. Squinting at the cube, he tried to envision the inner mechanism of the lock and reach out with his Arcana. The wash of his golden mana felt around the interior of the lock, looking for the tumblers, until suddenly the lock made a ringing noise and a lance of pain shot down his horn. Startled, Star Swirl dropped the box back down on the table as his magic cut out. He winced and rubbed the tip of his horn, eyes narrowing on the box. The tumblers were made out of lodestone. Of course.

“Thirty seconds…” Comet cooed, seemingly taking pleasure in watching Star Swirl’s struggles. Gulping, the colt grabbed the box again, this time with his hooves, and lifted it up to his face.

Something moved inside the box. At first Star Swirl wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or not, but a few exploratory shakes confirmed that something metal was in the bottom of the cube. Furrowing his brow, it took only a second for Star Swirl to figure out what it most likely was: the key to the lock. With twenty seconds left, a plan quickly took hold in the colt’s mind.

Setting the box back on the table, Star Swirl quickly cast a scrying spell to get a look at the inside of the box. He shut his eyes and let his magic do the looking for him, and sure enough, the faint glimmer of an iron key inside the box appeared in his mind. He began to channel mana to teleport the key out of the box, a difficult task in its own right, until he noticed that the loop of the key was made of void crystal and was held to the bottom of the box by a ring.

“Ten seconds…”

Sweat formed around the base of Star Swirl’s horn. He couldn’t teleport the key out of the box; the void crystal wouldn’t teleport with the rest of the key. His mind raced at a million miles per hour. Maybe he could…

Wait. The void crystal wouldn’t teleport with the rest of the key… He nearly laughed when the revelation hit him. Confident that he’d solved the answer, he simply teleported the rest of the key minus the void crystal loop that held it to the bottom of the box. The key disappeared from the vision of his scrying spell, and a flash of light and the pop of the key materializing next to his face followed immediately after.

Opening his eyes, Star Swirl quickly guided the half of the key into the lock’s keyhole and turned. The lock fought him for a brief moment, but soon enough there was the satisfying click of tumblers falling into place, and with a triumphant smile on his face, Star Swirl opened the box.

The clapping of hooves and a satisfied smile on Comet’s face was his reward. “Bravo, Star Swirl,” Comet said, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Everypony else fell apart when put under pressure. I’m impressed with your resourcefulness and level-headedness. The others that made it as far as you did overthought the void crystal on the key.” Her smile grew a little brighter as amused chuckles left her lips. “Magic is complicated, yes, but a true mage needs to know how to look at things piece-by-piece. Keeping your mind from overcomplicating matters is perhaps the most important lesson my mentor taught me long ago, and it’s what I’ve been looking for in an apprentice.”

Then, to Star Swirl’s surprise, she reached over the table and rested a hoof on his shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll be speaking again, very shortly.”

Almost as soon as her break from character had begun, however, it quickly slipped away. Comet resumed her bored expression, leaned back in her chair, and flung the opened box over her shoulder in a wash of ruby magic. The large doors behind Star Swirl swung open, and Star Swirl gasped as Comet’s magic grabbed him by the mane and pulled him away from the desk. The glow vanished before he’d completely left the door, and he roughly fell on his stomach just outside the doors as Comet’s voice shouted “Next! Finally!” over his shoulders.

The colt stood up and dusted himself off, noticing Wintershimmer trotting towards the door just long enough to make eye contact. To Star Swirl’s surprise, however, his friend didn’t seem nervous anymore. In fact, he marched through the open portcullis as confident as a pony could be. Star Swirl didn’t even have the time to wish him good luck before the doors shut behind him.

Shrugging, Star Swirl triumphantly trotted towards the bench and sat on the edge, chest puffed out and shoulders raised as high as he could make them. He shot the other nervous colts and fillies a confident, cocksure smile, and turned back towards the door to patiently wait for Archmage Comet’s emergence.

He didn’t have to wait long at all, for less than thirty seconds later, Wintershimmer emerged from the Arcanaeum just as confident and relaxed as when he’d entered. Archmage Comet followed close behind, an amused smile on her lips. The elder mare slowly walked into the center of the room and seemed contented to just slowly drift her gaze from one nervous unicorn to the next.

Finally, after several seconds, she spoke up. “Well, colts and fillies, we all know what was at stake here today. You all had your sixty seconds with the box, and I’m proud to say that some of you did much better than others. I saw a few novel approaches—I think turning the box into cheese, or at least attempting to, was my favorite—and a few of you just absolutely fell apart, crashing and burning like a barbarian siege tower. However, I thankfully don’t have to keep looking for an apprentice, because somepony did well enough to pass today.

“Now, everypony, stand up.”

The colts and fillies quickly jumped to their hooves, still trying to make a good impression on Comet regardless of how well they did on their test. Comet waited a few seconds after everypony was standing, then pulled out her notepad and held it in front of her ruby eyes.

“Yew Branch, sit down.”

The brown colt, who was the second one to be tested, blinked once and opened his mouth. Archmage Comet shot him a look that made it clear she was not going to tolerate him saying anything, and so, defeated, he sat back down on the bench, the first of nine.

Comet nodded before she continued reading off names. “Indigo Horizon, sit down. West Star, sit down. Filigree, White Tail, Radiance, sit.”

That left just Wintershimmer, Star Swirl, and the orange filly from before standing. Comet seemed to revel in letting her eyes flit from one to the next, and soaking in the resentment and disappointment of those who were seated. After passing over everypony at least once, her eyes settled on the orange filly. “Starburst, you may sit down.”

The filly gasped and sat in stunned silence. Both Wintershimmer and Star Swirl exchanged wide-eyed glances with each other. They both knew one of them was going home empty hooved, but at the very least, they’d made it this far, and it’d be a testament to their career as a mage, regardless of where that future took them.

Comet smiled and put her pocketbook back in her surcoat. “Star Swirl.”

The olive colt flinched as he heard his name. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the heavy stone of disappointment from settling into his gut. Still, he fixed a sad smile on his face and turned to congratulate Wintershimmer.

“Step forward.”

Star Swirl suddenly froze. He turned his golden eyes towards Comet, baffled and surprised, and received an encouraging nod in return. Swallowing hard, he stepped forward, feeling the icy glares of everypony else, or at least, everypony apart from Wintershimmer, stabbing into the back of his neck.

“You proved yourself to be the quickest thinker out of everypony here when you opened the box. Even under pressure, you came up with a solid plan and didn’t let yourself overthink the situation too much; there’s nothing I hate more than a mage who takes twenty pages to pen a spell in the Grimoire when it could’ve been done in two.” She nodded once more to him. “Stand by my side.”

Star Swirl couldn’t believe it. He moved as if in a daze, his mind reeling from what he’d heard. Before he knew it, he was standing by the archmage’s right side, looking back at everypony who didn’t make it. Only Wintershimmer was left standing awkwardly by his own.

Then Comet did something that surprised everypony; she looked directly at Wintershimmer. “Wintershimmer, come here.”

Wintershimmer stood there in shock. It took Comet clearing her throat to snap him out of it and make him scramble towards her other side. When he was standing by her side, Archmage Comet continued. “Wintershimmer stands next to me because he was the most resourceful out of all of you here. He was the only one that tried scrying the Arcanaeum to see what the test was.”

Everypony gasped, including Star Swirl, and they all turned towards Wintershimmer, whose gray coat was beginning to turn crimson at the cheeks. Comet rolled her eyes. “Well, let me ask you all. Did anypony ever say that you couldn’t?” When nopony answered her, a smug smile manifested on her face. “A true archmage doesn’t play by the rules others establish. If you don’t try to bend or break a few, you’re never going to invent any new spells. If you’re too stuck in established ways of thinking, you’ll never think of anything new.

“Practicality and daring. That’s what I wanted to see out of my prospective apprentices.” Smiling broadly, she wrapped her forelegs across the two colts’ shoulders and pulled them close. “And that’s why I’m taking not one, but two apprentices. I think the two of them will have much to teach each other, and to teach me, while they study under me. Perhaps someday, River Rock will have two great Archmages to advance the study of magic. Why we only ever have one at a time is beyond me.”

Star Swirl and Wintershimmer shot each other excited glances. Neither could believe this was actually happening. On the bench, the finalists who’d failed their final challenge either tried their best to mask their disappointment and be happy for the two colts, while others simply shot the two colts looks that made it clear they were going to be enemies from now on.

She gave each colt a comforting smile. “Star Swirl, Wintershimmer, welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives.”

The story ended alongside the tobacco in Star Swirl’s pipe, and blowing one last smoke ring, the elderly archmage stowed the pipe back in his robes. “Comet admired me for my practical and orderly thinking. She admired Wintershimmer for his wit and willingness to bend rules to succeed. While we studied under her, she did her best to play up our strengths; she encouraged me to methodically work my way through a problem and to be respectful of the schools of magic, but she encouraged Wintershimmer to think outside the box and push magic in ways that maybe magic shouldn’t have been pushed.” He sadly shook his head. “Comet was never an egomaniac, but I feel she was looking out for her legacy when she tried to raise two archmages with two very different approaches.”

“So you and Wintershimmer were actually friends?” Clover asked, her head cocked to the side.

Star Swirl sighed and gave a solemn nod. “In our youth, yes. We were friends. When Comet decided to make both of us her apprentices, we were ecstatic that we’d get to learn under her together. But she taught me how to perform magic one way, and she taught Wintershimmer how to do it in another. We fell into competition between our two ‘schools’ to see who could create more spells and write more pages in the Grimoire, and soon those friendly competitions turned into a heated rivalry. By the time Comet died, Wintershimmer and I despised each other.”

“Wow,” Diadem said from the desk. “Sounds like Comet wasn’t a good teacher.”

Star Swirl shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. She taught me nearly everything I know, after all. But I don’t think she understood what she was doing by pitting us against each other like that. The day I won the apprenticeship with Wintershimmer was the day I was alienated from all of my other mage friends growing up. Sometimes I wish that Comet had only taken one of us to be her apprentice. But either she didn’t care what she was doing when she took the two of us, or she knew exactly what would happen, and I think I’d rather not know the answer.”

The olive stallion stood up and rested a hoof on Diadem’s shoulder. “Diadem, you are a gifted mage. You didn’t become Clover’s apprentice through sheer luck. At Onyx Ridge, you more than proved your potential to her when you stood your own against the barbarians that’d foalnapped you. Everypony can see that you’ve got a bright future ahead of you. One day, you’ll be an archmage greater than even Clover or myself, and your name will be the one to fill history books, not mine. I believe in you.”

Diadem looked up towards Star Swirl with her teal eyes. “You mean it?”

Star Swirl nodded. “Don’t let Wintershimmer intimidate you. Don’t let anypony intimidate you. Follow your lessons, practice often, and never—” and here he touched Diadem’s horn with his hoof, “—never stop thinking. You can learn everything there is to learn in the world, but to create is even more special.”

Clover wrapped her hoof around Diadem’s shoulders and nuzzled her forehead. “Everything comes in time, Diadem. You’re only fifteen. You might start writing in the Grimoire in a year, or it might be in ten years. Regardless, nopony’s putting pressure on you to be an archmage now. Take your time, practice, become confident in yourself and your abilities…” She smiled sweetly at her apprentice. “When you’re ready, you’ll know.”

Diadem couldn’t help but let a little smile make its way onto her face. “Thanks, Clover,” she said, nuzzling her mentor’s neck. “Thanks, Star Swirl. Seriously.”

A dry chuckle left Star Swirl’s throat. “Oh, it’s nothing at all. Honestly, I’ve dealt with it all before. Maybe next time I’ll tell you the story of when Clover was your age.”

Abject horror pulled at Clover’s quickly-paling features. “Oh, uh… I-I don’t think that’s a good story, Grandpa.”

Diadem’s ears perked up. “Really?! Oh, you gotta tell me that one, Star Swirl! You just gotta!”

“Like I said, maybe next time,” Star Swirl said, winking at Clover, who was looking decidedly worse for wear. “For now, though,” and he wrapped his foreleg around Diadem’s shoulders and began to usher her out of the room, “how about we go to the waterfront and get something nice for dinner, hmm? It’ll be my treat.”

Diadem nodded vigorously, and her stomach offered its own loud agreement. “Sounds great! I’m so hungry!”

“I thought you might be.” Letting Diadem run off through the door, Star Swirl turned to Clover. “Are you coming, Clover?”

Clover blinked and shook her head. “Y-yeah. I’m coming.”

“Good,” Star Swirl said. “I think we’re all due for a little time to simply unwind.”

A dark figure lay draped across the railing of the balcony on the west tower, the tufts of its furry ears twitching gently in the summer breeze. Aurora had her legs splayed out on either side of the railing, looking for all intents and purposes like a cat soaking up sunlight, letting the warmth of the setting sun permeate her cold, undead coat. Her eyes twitched underneath closed eyelids, and her shoulders rose and fell with subconscious breathing that was largely irrelevant to a thestral. It was nearly lost to the breeze, but her snoring sounded more like a contented purr, and her hooves pawed at the ground in imaginary worlds known only to her.

All that ended in an instant when the door to the inner chamber slammed open. In a flash, Third Sister was sitting upright on the balcony, hard yellow eyes locked on the figures entering the bedroom for a moment before they softened in recognition. Hopping off the balcony, she stretched her limbs in a decidedly feline manner before scratching an itch at the base of her curved horn and cantering into the bedroom.

“…honestly, I’ve rarely felt the need to strangle somepony as much as I did today,” Luna said to the other thestral at her side as she entered the room. “A summoned spirit? A demon? Feh! If only the foal knew who he were really talking to...” She shook her head, and her teal irises landed on Aurora’s figure. “I trust there were no disturbances, Third?”

Aurora shook her head. “All quiet on the western front. Did the reception go well?”

Luna rolled her eyes. “It did, for a time. Until the Union’s archmage made his appearance. He has one of the greatest inferiority complexes I’ve ever seen, and overcompensates by being exceptionally insolent to everypony around him. Thankfully for him, Queen Jade drew him back before I had to get involved in silencing his tongue.” She took a few more steps forward, frowned at the jingle-jangle of her jewelry, and began to strip the articles from her body. “At least his intrusion broke up the monotony of the meeting. Help me remove this gaudiness. Queen Platinum seems to think it’s necessary that I go around the palace like some sort of pampered noblemare, but I detest it. Far too noisy and restricting for my tastes.”

Luna’s command drew Aurora over, where she began to disassemble Luna’s outfit with her magic. Meanwhile, the alicorn turned towards the other thestral in the room. “Do you have it?”

“Yes,” Seventh Brother answered with a dip of his head.

“Good. Give it to me.”

Wordlessly, Seventh materialized a crystal ball through a show of spitting, bubbling purplish magic. It was shaped vaguely like an eye and glimmered from within like it contained a small star. The alicorn snatched it out of his magic with her own and briefly regarded its facets before she carefully set it down on the indigo sheets of her bed. “I will return this to Star Swirl tonight,” she said. “I’d rather it be back under lock and key, especially with this… uncouth pretender Wintershimmer residing in the castle.”

“Or you could use it to keep an eye on him,” Seventh suggested, his fangs contributing to the ghastly smile that materialized on his face. “Something that powerful should see use, not sit locked away in an archmage’s supply closet.”

“As I’m sure you believe,” Luna scoffed at him. Aurora lowered her head and set about neatly organizing Luna’s dress, now that it was fully off of her slender frame, and let her mistress chew out her sibling. “I will have it known, Seventh, that any further attempts to use or secret away the orb will result in a lengthening of your sentence. You will not touch the orb again.”

The thestral stallion stiffened at the command and seemed to involuntarily take a step farther away from the crystal ball on Luna’s bed. “As you command, Mistress,” he answered.

Luna gave him a curt nod. “Good. We shall not speak more of this topic.” Turning away, the alicorn crossed the room and stepped onto the balcony, where she rested her hooves on the railing. “It’s almost time to raise the moon. Third, Seventh, you will patrol the halls from dusk to dawn, and escort anypony who has no business being awake at this hour back to their room, or to me. Until the moon ascends, however, you are free.”

Both thestrals bowed their heads and left Luna’s presence, shutting the large doors behind them. They meandered down the steps to the lower levels of the castle in silence until Aurora suddenly spoke up. “I never asked you why you stole that thing in the first place.”

Seventh scoffed. “That much should be obvious. I wanted to keep an eye on somepony.”

Aurora rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Who could you have left that you’d want to keep an eye on? Your father? I know you two never got along while you were alive.”

Seventh opened his fanged mouth to speak, but shut it again as they rounded a corner and skirted past two vigilant legionaries on patrol down the long halls of the castle. Only when they were well outside of earshot did the stallion begin again. “No. But they are family.”

“You never seemed like one too big on family,” Aurora countered. “So who is it? Your mom? A sibling? Long-lost marefriend?”

Some emotion glimmered in Seventh’s eyes; Aurora couldn’t be sure what it was. “Something like that. It’s…” His words stuck in his throat, and he frowned at his inability to get them out. “It’s more complicated than that. It’ll be easier if I show you.”

Aurora perked an eyebrow at that. “Show me? So the pony you’ve been keeping an eye on is here?”

“If it’s not too late, he should be,” Seventh said. He angled his horn towards another set of descending stairs. “Come.”

The two thestrals went down the staircase and through a few halls on the third story of the castle before they came to a series of large, open windows overlooking the courtyard below. Without warning, Seventh Brother climbed out the window and began to walk along the shingles to a more secluded corner overlooking the courtyard.

“What are you doing?” Aurora asked, climbing out after him. “Did you have a pet parrot once or something?”

Seventh didn’t answer. Instead, he sat on his haunches in the corner of the roof, where his dark blue coat seemed to melt into the heavy stones of the castle rising behind him. He waited until Aurora let out an exasperated sigh and sat down next to him to point to the small figure in the middle of the field.

Aurora narrowed her slitted yellow eyes at the figure. It was a small pegasus colt, barely older than a foal, with a light blue coat and a short mane of white, brown, and black locks that bobbed with every stumpy motion he took with his little legs. His teeth clenched around a wooden toy sword which he swung in repetitive strokes in front of him. His brow was furrowed in a concentration Aurora had only seen from children a hoofful of times in all her years of serving as the orphanage’s matron.

But she recognized this colt; she’d seen him around the castle every once in a while in the week she’d spent at it so far. He always clung to either the Legatus, Twister, staying close by her side, or following Commander Hurricane around the training fields, pretending to be a legionary. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she turned to Seventh. “You know Tempest?”

The thestral stallion nodded. “Of course I do,” he said. His eyes narrowed in on the little colt practicing with his toy weapon, and he slid forward a little bit, the tiniest tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “He’s my son.”

Author's Notes:

April Fools Chapter 12