Early Morning
June 28th, 74 BNM
Equestria, North Midland valley lake
Military Fortress, the Stone Citadel.
Main Courtyard

The soldiers, the garrison of Equestrian soldiers here to guard the northern border, had not affiliated with the 3 infighting factions for the purpose of greater defence. They served Equestria’s defence, and thus were loyal to their Citadel’s leader, a black, scarred Unicorn stallion in grey robes, known simply as Master Blackmane, who had been in charge of this Citadel for over 20 years now, helping it grow from a small stone barracks to the imposing fortress, almost the size of a town thanks to his powerful magic helping build it faster.
Exercising in the yards, they saw the defacto second in command of the base, a middle aged, rather stern looking Unicorn mare of blue/grey mane and white coat, watching from a nearby balcony walkway.
None of them knew of the form she took when completely relaxed however, nor of the immense power she now wielded, after her transformation 2 weeks ago.
But right now, she was in charge. Master Blackmane was off on business in Royalist territory.
He was one of few in Equestria allowed safe passage without question through all the factions, as he defended Equestria as a whole, no matter the territory, him and others in charge of similar fortresses along the New Gryphon northern border, keeping in check the vital lands claimed in the war at great cost, which the Alicorns fought over the spoils of as one of many reasons besides the power struggle.
The fortresses were kept on standby, despite trading with New Gryphons underway, as they may decide to pounce on Equestria if more civil war breaks out.
And yet, only Teal Quirt knew the exact reason why ‘Blackmane’ was in royalist territory. The tale that it was to secure resources needed to maintain and improve the Citadel’s forces was a half-truth.
Though she did not know who it was, she knew Siral was busy in his slow cultivation of the Seventh of the all to be enhanced underlings of his. She had been the first, and while maybe not the strongest depending on what came of the others, she would be in charge of them, with lady Ave-Dol as their ‘keeper’, making sure order was kept between them, the Alicorn proving laid back, open minded, even if airy in the head at times.
She merely hoped this seventh was chosen well.

Midday
Equestria, North Midland valley lake
Military Fortress, the Stone Citadel.
Living quarters

Sat around a small table, Iena and Satio played a simple game of chess, though the portly minotaur had a difficult time hiding his thought pattern.
Sitting back, Iena brushed aside her white mane, as the light green Pegasus mare reclined in her, for Satio, slightly distracting figure. She knew this, and she was using it to her advantage. She didn’t like losing.
But also, there was somewhat of a bit of amusing, maybe even endearing quality to how easily Satio got flustered around her.
Focusing on the chess board, keeping his slightly burning cheeks cool with self-control, Satio moved the knight to the space he chose.
“Okay, there.”
Raising an eyebrow, Iena leaned forwards, taking the bishop piece from a long way’s across the board and taking a castle piece he hadn’t been keeping an eye on.
“You should be watching your flank Satio, not others.”
“Wha-, I, just, ah I can’t get checkmate with just a knight, a few pawns and a king…”
Satio submitted, toppling his king over as Iena snickered aloud, remarking:
“You are getting better, slowly. But you get distracted far too easily.”
“That is not fair. It is not like I could do the same to you.” Satio admitted, folding his arms over his girdle in slight shame, but also humiliation at this immediate defeat.
Iena’s snark softened slightly, as she simply teased Satio out of fun: “Well how might you spend this downtime? It is not like we have any more duties until this evening.”
“I don’t know. But, I just would do something I am good at. The gardens, my vegetable patch. Try one of the recipes in the fortress kitchen cook books I haven’t done yet.”
“What ones have you not done?” Iena asked, thinking he had already cooked anything the kitchens had with how often he was down there. While he ate light to keep her figure, she had to admit she was impressed with Satio’s skills in preparing good meals. She could understand why he indulged in food out of pleasure or commiseration in his life, she might too if she was as good as he was.
“Uh, well, I was wondering, do you have anything you recall liking, treat maybe. I’m always looking for new things to try and make.”
Iena slightly smiled at this, as she knew Satio had his way of sharing what he liked with her, as did she with teaching him games like chess or mental pursuits. And, he was always willing to give her his time, not that he seemed to have much outside his duties in meals to do anyway.
“My family’s cooks once did a divine blackberry pie.”
“I can give it a try.” Satio offered, the minotaur suddenly becoming less self-conscious at this potential challenge to himself, and to also maybe get Iena to have him as a definite good friend by her books, his own looks be damned.
He wanted her to be friendly with him as much as possible, as she was easier to get to know than the others. Lady Ave-Dol was more a mother/overseer if anything, and the other 3 were, somewhat inapproachable, whether they be occupied with their roles like Teal Quirt [especially post enhancement], or Golmov in his unknown errands set by Siral.
Or in Odi-Viscer’s case, indulging in his various hobbies to an almost addictive, socially secluded level.

Meanwhile
Citadel Fortress, Living areas
Odi-Viscer’s room

Hunched over the small work desk, the bald, grey Earth pony worked with the carving knife strapped by a gauntlet of sorts on the small log, one of many he borrowed from the castle firewood stores, slicing away shavings in very precise, meticulous ways.
Lady Ave-Dol’s advice had been good, as he took up a hobby he had as a small child, and became somewhat addicted to it.
Beside his desk, a very large pile of wood shavings lay. Scurrying out from underneath, a small mouse that had found it a nice play to stay peered out with a small squeak, at which Odi’s gaze suddenly turned slightly heated as he snapped to look at the mouse, who froze in place at the sight of the stallion sat by the table.
He saw two options: Kill the mouse for fun, or get this sculpture of one of the other 5 done better than the last attempt he did.
The earth pony would like either. He had made a second, rage against life’s unfairness induced hobby of killing smaller animals than he before Siral found him, with his bare hooves.
But the nagging feeling, he just would be so much more angered if he lost his rhythm and place in his carving frenzy on this attempt.
“Don’t be in my sights when I finish, I’m too busy.” Odi-Viscer grumbled darkly to the mouse, as he turned his attention back to the wood carving, wanting to make sure the carving of Satio didn’t come out thinner than he actually was this time around.
The mouse was gone seconds after that, as more shavings added to the now table high pile.

Meanwhile
150 miles away
Equestrian northern mountain ranges

Golmov flew idly over the mountain tops, his 200-foot black and yellow striped dragon form barely struggling with the 2 Earth pony travellers, who had made the mistake of wandering the open paths alone when Golmov was searching for ‘test subjects’ for Siral to pick from in his underground prisons.
Not that anyone other than Teal Quirt, himself or Siral would know, though frankly only lady Ave-Dol would make any significant danger if she found out.
The farmers had long fainted from shock and fear, and Golmov wished there wouldn’t be too many more of these ‘errands’ for Siral. The novelty and thrill of abducting random, alone travellers to avoid suspicion and listening to their screams of panic as he whisked them back alive had worn off after the first 15 victims. And these were victims 31 and 32.
Still, test subjects were needed, as there weren’t enough criminals bound for execution in Equestria that could be picked from in Equestrian counties the Citadel was near.

June 28th, 74 BNM
Equestria, Royalist territory
Trottingham, Main Valhoof Estate
Dining room

37-year-old Gaudium, the sandy brown Alicorn stallion, with a black mane and slight blue wings, and shimmering red eyes, felt out of place as usual.
These monthly family get together always reminded Gaudium of how insignificant the accomplishments of his elder siblings made him feel, and of how he was always seemingly the one pushed aside in his family.
Uncomfortably, Gaudium kept quiet as usual. His parents were speaking of politics with his 2 elder brothers, who had come back from the southern military peacetime exercises after many weeks organising with their newly received officer positions.
His elder sister, the 3rd youngest among the 4, added her two bits to the conversation at many points. She served the family name by being an influential socialite in the royal courts, and by her savvy skills in organising trade deals for the Valhoof name and Trottingham as a whole.
Then there was he, Gaudium. The youngest, and least accomplished.
Politics bored him, but he seldom expressed it, out of polite service to his parents. He socialised at events on his parents’ behalf, and despite meeting Princess Celestia herself at her 25th birthday 12 years ago, they had not interacted much. The Civil War had changed many things, and Gaudium had emerged as the black sheep of the family.
His brothers were military nobility, and the eldest in line to inherit the family estate as was duty, but Alicorn longevity meant he may well take his own estate elsewhere anyway. His sister was a successful socialite and negotiator for her family, whereas he was not ‘useful’.
He wanted to be creative, he had simple desires, to enjoy life, to not get in anypony’s way, as it was clear his family seemed to view him as rather ‘unnecessary’. Sure they loved him, but only as much as any reasonable family felt duty bound to.
Small wonder they’d given him a small estate, well-kept but somewhat away from Trottingham but within their territory, so he could do as he wished and influence anything as little as possible. They understood their son was a black sheep, and in a mutual agreement, they pushed him into the shadows as much as a member of the Alicorn nobility could be.
Gaudium preferred it that way, he was content, if lonely. He didn’t have many ‘true’ friends, as they always seemed to flock to his siblings and parents, right past him.
Still, at the dinner table, Gaudium slowly ate his cabbage and potato soup, as he decided to immerse in his own mind. He had ideas for more of these short stories, as he one day hoped to maybe publish folk tales that could be passed down, to entertain and teach.
His subtle magic glowed ever so slightly, as bright as he dared, as he saw the surface of his soup slightly ripple to form some images of a small hilltop with a wolf against a house, knocking on the door to-.”
“Really Gaudium, must you play with your food at your age?”
Snapping from his ‘brainstorming’ with his food, the potato shapes disappearing into their mashed surface, Gaudium blushed slightly as he apologised to his mother, the sandy red Alicorn mare with a black mane reprimanding him slightly for his table manners:
“Sorry mother, my mind was wandering, coming up with ideas.”
“Yes, for your ‘stories’ I wager.” His sister remarked, the vaguest of condescension in her voice, as talk then quickly turned back to talk of gossip of a scandal in the Manehatten nationalist nobility.
They teased him lightly for his rather ‘light’ interests, the fact that he still had an interest in things considered childish, especially given what his siblings, even if only up to 6 years his elder at most, did in their livelihoods.
‘Cultural skills’ were viewed as of lesser importance, as pastimes, not as life commitments.
He loved his family, but he didn’t feel as ‘needed’ by them for being too different from their life choices and styles.
Small wonder he looked forwards to heading back to his small, family given estate, where he could bury himself in his passions while living off funding from the land taxes, like all nobility.
After all, as he realised in his dabbling in music, he didn’t fit with their ‘rhythm’. He was a discordant presence, and it was best to not involve himself with family affairs for their practical benefit, and his own.

June 29th, 74 BNM
Equestria, Royalist territory
Trottingham, Outskirts
Gaudium Valhoof’s estate

The estate was considerably smaller than the main Valhoof estate, more of a large house than a mansion. A well furnish house, but only 4 bedrooms were in its quarters, and underused, given how few visitors Gaudium had, with the housekeeper living in a small cottage near the estate house.
Gaudium lived alone, and while he got lonely at times, he had his passions to distract him.
Sat at his desk, there were tomes of old tales, fiction mostly, drafts of short stories, sketches and drawings of places, creatures, anything that took his fancy, from poems to pottery on one occasion.
His Alicorn magic was used in a variety of artistic ways, ways his family felt were best pushed aside, but left to grow, or ‘fester’ on their own. If Gaudium made a name for himself, so be it. If not, he wouldn’t cause trouble.
He had his idols, the great artists, authors, poets, playwrights, musicians, ‘entertainers’ as some derisively called them, his parents and siblings on one or two occasions, those who made themselves famous in the arts, and did it because they wanted to, not because they had to.

Sat at his study desk, Gaudium reclined back, staring thoughtfully at yet another rough piece of work he’d done. A bare bones story, no heavy hoof delivered moral per say, but a tale meant to amuse before anything else. Just a tale of a young filly in the woods, and a pack of wolves continually trying to steal the buns she was carrying to her grandmother, and their humorous failings in each elaborate scheme they tried, when in the end one who simply asked politely got a bun that the girl could spare, given there was plenty to go around.
He had many stories, fiction, poem or even play or song, where his character could be more forward about their desires than he could with his parents. They tolerated him, pushed him aside. He wished he could let them know that this meant a lot to him, that he liked being a ‘free spirit’ so to speak, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
A common magical time keeping device, which was an hourglass that magically flipped when empty to tell the time past each hour, and had a number of flipping number tiles, like a sporting scoreboard, with numbers 1-24 to denote the hour.
Seeing the time, Gaudium’s eyes lit up slightly. He had very few ‘friends’, but one was an elderly Unicorn who had expressed an interest in his work, purely out of interest.
And he had been an acquaintance for the past 3 years now, a seemingly gruff Black Unicorn stallion who often travelled north to the fortresses guarding the New Gryphon war territory gains, having a high position there.
Blackmane he called himself.

Gaudium Valhoof’s estate
Outer garden lawn

Blackmane often asked they walk around Gaudium’s small, modest but well-kept gardens, the simplicity of its neatness something Blackmane admired.
Walking beside the Black Unicorn, Gaudium had long since grown used to the many scars that adorned his visage, though he didn’t probe about asking whether they were on more than just his face and neck.
The elder looking black Unicorn turned with a kindly smile to Gaudium, only slightly shorter than he was, his ghostly white mane cut short, as his grey travelling cloak’s lowered hood showed.
“And by the sounds of it, your work seems to be improving all the time.”
Gaudium gave a small smile at this, but admitted: “Maybe. Not that I have family approval to go by. Some have said my work is, odd. I am uncertain if they mean that in a complimentary way or not.”
“Trust me my boy, you should not let the presumptions of those who criticise, and never ‘make’ things of their own, tread upon your efforts. The world is unkind to new or unique things, sad but true, especially, if like you, they do not seem to ‘fit in’ with a pre-set role intended for them.”
Gaudium continued to walk alongside Blackmane, who had turned to stop briefly to gaze out at the distant Trottingham church bell tower, rising over the treetops from a mile away. Stopping in turn, Gaudium remarked with some vague hopefulness:
“Well, I get the impression that if I keep trying, I’ll have something good, amazing maybe, enough that I will be remembered.”
Turning to Gaudium, Blackmane nodded in agreement: “Precisely.”
Shaking his head slightly, Gaudium spoke with some humourous disbelief as Blackmane knelt down to idly smell some newly sprouting flowers in the garden bed.
“I always find it surprising that a military stallion would find an interest in the arts. It does not seem important, too undisciplined.”
“Discipline is only good for those who follow orders, who are part of a greater system. But discipline and talents, even that which artists do, such as music, poems, writing, can be taught. A taught artist can replicate what has been done before. But in ‘disciplines’, there are restrictions, rules, and stepping out of line is frowned upon.”
“I know this too well.” Gaudium remarked, to which Blackmane then stood up slowly, pointing a hoof at him with a knowing, small smile on his scarred face:
“But, you and few others have what can’t be taught, that not everypony, be they the most powerful and disciplined Alicorn, to the weakest and subordinate foal, possesses. Genuine creativity.”
“I wouldn’t call my work groundbreaking…” Gaudium remarked. But Blackmane waved this off, as he recalled:
“Strong or weak, creativity is a prized resource greater than gold or even anything of the flesh. What other universal facet of all of creativity is there besides the unwillingness to roll over and bury it? Look at you, shunted out of the way here, and yet you still carry out your works, whatever you wish.”
“Thank you, I think…” Gaudium replied. With a slight chuckle, Blackmane gestured back to the estate, remarking:
“Come now, I’m sure we can have a much grander time sharing stories, if I still have some I’ve yet to tell you that is. I’m sure you have some new ideas for, what is it you have in mind to try your hoof at this month?”
“Stories, short fairy tales with easy morals to learn from. Childish stuff really.”
Blackmane slightly frowned at this, as he remarked as he suddenly stopped Gaudium on the grass they walked upon:
“I want to tell you some quote from a philosopher, long ago and I have forgotten his name, but you should take it to heart. To be an ‘adult’ is to put away childish things, including fear of childishness, and the desire to be grown up.”
Blackmane then pointed a hoof at Gaudium’s head, remarking bluntly:
“And believe me, creativity is prevalent in children more than adults. Consider it a gift that you can be both childish and an adult, to know what makes both good or bad. Pity those who fear being creative. Some of the best plans in politics, business, culture and the military came from those who weren’t afraid of being childish from time to time.”
At this semi rant/speech, Gaudium once again was glad he was friends with this slightly eccentric stallion. He also was glad at the words of some of his works being passed around the fortress he manned and often being warmly received as a break from the boring normality up there.
The sandy brown Alicorn walked on ahead, remarking to Blackmane:
“Take a seat outside, usual way. I just want to get some works you might like.”
Blackmane smiled slightly as he nodded, the smile hiding dual meanings.
Siral knew this adolescent, not very long an adult by Alicorn standards, much the same as the eldest royal princess, was perfect.
He wanted to turn the prophecy on its head, and apparently the seventh was to be one of Pride. If Siral was to be proud of anypony, or have someone who justified their own self pride, it would be one he saw a kindred spirit in.
And like he said, skills could be taught, bodies enhanced as he proved with Teal Quirt and the others all to come, and ideals could be imparted, by teaching or by brainwashing if worst came to worst.
But in Gaudium, that discordant, somewhat disenfranchised soul among his noble family, cast aside, he saw something few had. That creative spark, which most children had but lost as they became adults by society’s demands, lest they be ostracised for it.
Siral prided his creativity in his magic, and even though he was subdued beneath a veneer of sombre scheming, his schemes were products of his creativity, as would Gaudium when, if all went as planned, he enhanced him as the seventh of his created elite servants.
And what better creation than a new Equestria and world, a better, calmer world upon which lessons from the current world could be avoided?
This is what Gaudium had that drew him into Siral’s gaze, as power and skills could be made. Long lasting creativity could not be created or taught, it was born, as was the desire to keep it alive even into adulthood, and keeping the mind open.
Despite every misgiving Siral had about Alicorns as a collective, he was not going to sacrifice creativity, no matter the race of the being who displayed it.

Author's Notes:

Unbridled creativity, which sometimes manifests as childish behaviour, or interest in childish things.
And the quote about adult things and not being afraid of being childish comes from a quote by author C.S. Lewis. For reference, just type into google or a search engine the keywords: C.S. Lewis, critics, adult, approval, childish. You’ll find the quote in question in its unedited entirety. It is a good quote to live by.