Rekindled Embers

by applezombi

First published 19th of May, 2020

Hundreds of years after the death of Twilight Sparkle, a brutal theocracy rules over ponies with an iron fist. A young pegasus mare slowly learns the truth about her world, and the lies her faith is built on.

It has been nearly a thousand years since Twilight Sparkle died. Celestia and Luna are gone. The Holy Equestrian Diarchy, ruled by a bigoted and brutal theocracy, has driven ponies apart and divided them along tribal lines. Unicorns are driven from society, feared and hated.

The lessons of friendship, painstakingly written down in the journal of friendship by Princess Twilight and her friends, have been warped and twisted to fit the Diarchy's hateful ideology. But to the average pony, this is the truth and reality of the world they live in, beset on all sides by enemies monstrous and magical.

Emberglow, a young pegasus mare, aspires to join the elite Knights, magically enhanced warriors dedicated to the holy Saints worshiped by the state religion. Can she uncover the lies and deceptions that have led the world to this bitter place?

Thanks to QueenChrysalisForever for prereading.
Special thanks to my amazing editor, Cyonix
Cover Art by JodTheCod

Note on timing: I began writing this long before Season 9 aired, so none of those events happened as far as the narrative of this story is concerned.

Edit: Featured 8/7/20! Yay and Thanks!

Chapter 1

From an untitled scrap of notes, magically dated thirty-two years BF (Before Founding). Incomplete. Scrap was restored, preserved, and then locked in the vault at the secret archives of the Knights Mystic. Last accessed 934 AF.

“…ves that my plan might work. I went to Rainbow Dash’s funeral just yesterday. Nopony noticed me in this form; I suppose that’s a benefit. As lovely as it is to s… [illegible] …ping over the death of their precious pet pegasus, it proves my concept. I overheard Tw… [illegible] …th Princess Cadence that the four of them had lost their magical connection to the Elements when Dash died. I guess that means Rarity might still be alive out there somewhere, but it hardly matters if none of them are connected to the Elements anyways. Can you believe that idiot Dash died trying to…[an entire scrap of paper is ripped off here].

“…time travel is an idiotic cliché of an evil villain plot, but we’re committed. As long as what our pegasus ally tells us is true, it will be a simple… [illegible] …ter all, she did nearly destroy Equestria while she was still a foal. [Illegible]… believe it either if I hadn’t managed to interview the yak about the whole thing. She thought I was a reporter. [Page ends, the next page is ripped]

…is the biggest threat to our plans. Your job, for now, is to keep her busy so she doesn’t realize what’s going on. Keep her from the portal by any means if you have to until the time is right, and we can finally kill the bitch. Or better yet, have the brainwashed masses do it for us.”

[The notes are signed, but the signature is redacted in the original document.]

1106 AF (After Founding), New Canterlot City

The smell of grass, dirt, and pony sweat was a welcome combination in Emberglow’s nose. The rose-colored pegasus was running down the path, her short red mane bound in a ponytail behind her, bouncing about as she surged ahead of her pursuer. She giggled as she heard the stallion panting behind her, but she didn’t slow her gait, even though she was also nearly out of breath. It was a good time for a bit of a sprint.

The path was well trod, wooded and finely maintained. Emberglow knew that it was quite the privilege to live so close to the Everfree District of New Canterlot, with its myriad of parks and trails, wooded areas, grazing meadows, and wildlife preserves. She tried to do all her exercise here, and much of her studying as well. Sometimes both at the same time. She turned her head to look at her father, who was finally catching up.

“Next card please, Dad,” she panted. The black colored Earth pony with a short, military style cut blonde mane chuckled, but neither one of them slowed as he reached back into his saddlebag with his teeth and awkwardly retrieved the next flashcard.

“Ooo sur oo don wanna take a reak?” he mumbled through the paper he was holding in his teeth. Emberglow giggled. The two of them ran side by side as he held up the ‘question’ side of the flashcard for her to read. “Cuz his is reary awkward.”

“Multitasking is an essential part of medical work, Dad. You said so yourself. Why can’t I study and jog at the same time?” Emberglow asked, grinning playfully at him. Her father, Textile, just laughed as he held up the card for her to read. It wasn’t the first time Emberglow had studied this way; her father was kind enough to write out study questions on flashcards and have Emberglow read them while they ran. He might have thought the method a bit silly, but he played along for his daughter’s sake — she learned well during physical activity. It didn't stop him from teasing her about it every single time they did it, though. Her next test in her anatomy class focused on the skeletal system.

“Name the bone between the scapula and radius. Easy, dad. Humerus,” Emberglow scoffed. Her dad smiled, and flipped awkwardly to the next card. “Name the category of bones that are embedded within a tendon or a muscle, such as a kneecap.” Emberglow thought for a moment, her hooves pounding the trail as she ran and tried to remember her studies. “Sesamoid? It’s sesamoid bones, right?”

“Yup,” her dad said awkwardly. He flipped to a new card.

“Name the major bones of the wing. Dad, we haven’t gotten to pegasus bones yet. They won’t be on the test.”

“So you don’t know the answer?” her father asked tauntingly, after putting away the card in his mouth. Emberglow rolled her eyes as she ran. “Go on, Emberglow.”

“Humerus, ulna, radius, carpus, metacarpus, and, uh, digit?”

“That’s my girl,” the older stallion said fondly as he began to flip to the next card.

“Behind you!” came a voice suddenly from behind. Both Emberglow and her father moved to the side of the trail as the faster runner passed by on the left. They watched the pony moving quickly down the trail, in awe of her speed. She wore cotton work out clothing, quite similar to what Textile and Emberglow were wearing, only clearly made of higher quality materials. What really caught her eye, though, was the image sewn into the cloth. While many ponies had images of their cutie marks embroidered on the sides of their clothing, this pony had the mark of Saint Applejack, three red apples emblazoned on her exercise clothing.

“That’s a Knight!” Emberglow exclaimed, excited. Only Knights were allowed to wear the symbols of the six Saints — it was illegal for anypony else. The pony ahead of them was still not too far to hear, and she turned and waved at the two behind them. Emberglow couldn’t help herself; even though she was twelve, had her cutie mark, and was nearly about to begin her own higher education, she still reared up on her hind hooves and waved back. The Knight ran on, and Emberglow basked in the warmth of her perhaps silly fillyhood hero worship.

“I think that might be Knight Captain Ruby Berry. She’s the magistrate for the 14^th ward of the Merchant’s Walk. Our magistrate. A fine pony,” Textile said.

“She’s a Knight Vigilant?” Emberglow asked as the two of them ran on. The pace was hard, though they had long been left behind by the magically enhanced pony in front of them. Due to the mysterious and secretive rituals that Knights employed to be stronger, faster, and generally better than other ponies, it was no wonder the Knight had left them in her dust.

“Yes, and she’s a fine example of Saint Applejack’s teachings, for sure. She’s been our magistrate for five years now. I’ve only had to go before her once, when that waste-of-air huckster was trying to pass bad checks all throughout the Merchant’s Walk. He only took us for about two hundred bits, but Knight Ruby got it back for us.”

“I remember that,” Emberglow said. “It was just a few years ago. I was ten, right?”

“Something like that,” Textile said, laughing. “Your mother would remember the exact dates, I don’t have a head for that sort of thing.”

“Like keeping track of my birthday? Dad, how old am I?” Emberglow asked teasingly. Her father laughed again.

“Still too young to sass me like that, little lady. Besides, you don’t officially turn twelve until fourteen minutes after six in the morning. By my guess it’s still before five thirty.” The little family wasn’t poor, but they by no means had enough money to afford personal watches.

“So we should go torment Mom?” she giggled. Needle Point was still likely fast asleep; she liked to grump that she ‘refused to even acknowledge the utter insanity that was pre-dawn jogging’.

“Don’t be cruel. You know how she is in the morning,” her father said with another laugh. “We’ve been out here for about an hour, though. Let’s cool down and head back.”

The circular path was beginning to light up as the sun made its way closer to the horizon. The two ponies slowed their pace to a brisk trot. About a half mile up ahead on the wooded, beaten path was a small turn out, where city officials had installed a flowing fountain and trough for any joggers who used the path. The two of them paused to take a drink before continuing on with their cool down routine, stretching each muscle carefully in between drinks.

“Mind if I join you ponies?” came a voice from up the path. A mare, the Knight from before, trotted up to the trough with them. She was a light blue color, with a red mane nearly the same color as Emberglow’s. Unlike her own, though, the Knight’s mane was cut short, almost as short as Textile’s military cut. Textile and Emberglow both bowed to her, respectfully inclining their heads. Emberglow was nervous. A Knight! Talking with them! Drinking from the same trough! She was nearly giddy.

“Of course, my lady,” Textile said respectfully.

“Sorry if this seems a bit rude, but I was wondering. I overheard the two of you studying for something? While you were jogging? It made me curious.”

“My daughter, lady Knight. She’s beginning medical training in a month, and she likes to go over her flashcards when we jog.” Emberglow flushed at the naked pride she heard in her father’s voice. The Knight raised her eyebrows as she studied the young mare.

“Medical training? My little pony, you can’t be more than thirteen!” the Knight exclaimed incredulously. Emberglow blushed, and Textile smiled wide.

“Today is her twelfth birthday, my lady,” Textile said proudly. “Emberglow, my daughter, received a cutie mark for medicine, and has an incredible memory for biology and anatomy. She graduated from secondary school only a few months ago by taking advanced classes in her free time.”

“Remarkable,” the knight said with an impressed whistle. “New Canterlot City needs more ponies like you, honest, hardworking ponies with goals and dreams. I’m a magistrate, so I spend much of my time dealing with the opposite kind of ponies; reprobates, wastrels, and conponies. My name is Ruby Berry.”

“We know, Lady Ruby. My dad says you helped him get some bits back from a con artist a few years ago,” Emberglow said, finding her voice at last.

“You live in Ward 14?” the Knight asked, and the two ponies nodded.

“The best ward, my lady,” Textile responded, and it surprised the Knight into a laugh. “My name is Textile. My wife and I own a clothing shop on Emerald Street.”

“Oh, I remember now. Shifty Sands was his name, passing bad checks. I thought you looked familiar. Sorry I didn’t remember you at first,” the Knight said.

“Oh, don’t apologize, Lady Ruby. I guess it’s not a bad thing that my local magistrate doesn’t get to see me very often,” Textile said. It took Lady Ruby a moment to realize he was making a joke, and she laughed heartily.

“No, I guess not. Most the ponies I spend time with are either guilty of, or victims of, a crime. Well, I should continue my workout. Thanks for sharing the trough with me.” The Knight turned, and was about to continue down the path when Emberglow managed to squeak out the question she’d been thinking the entire time.

“Um… Lady Ruby?” she said, annoyed at how much like a tiny nervous filly she sounded. To be fair, though, she was small. And a filly. And technically quite nervous. She didn’t even notice that her wings had extended a bit, and were fluttering nervously.

“Hmm?” the Knight paused, turning again to look at Emberglow. Textile eyed his daughter nervously.

“I-I was wondering; do you have any advice for somepony who wants to write a letter for… um… Knight Sp-sponsorship?” She asked her question in a rush, the words nearly running over each other in a burst of nervous energy. The Knight’s jaw dropped slightly, and she looked between Emberglow and her slightly embarrassed, but still proud-looking father.

“You’re entering medical school at age twelve, and you’re looking into asking for sponsorship?” Lady Ruby asked, sounding impressed. “Remarkable. Ambitious. Do you know which Holy Order you’re interested in joining?”

“The Knights Radiant, my lady. Saint Rarity’s teachings have always held a special place for me, and with my cutie mark for medicine, I would dearly like to spend my life healing ponies. But I don’t come from a noble or rich family, so…” she trailed off a little sadly at the end.

“So sponsorship. But you are mistaken if you think that not being born into nobility is a mark of shame. For one, your boundless ambition to better yourself and do well for those around you shows who you really are. Then there are your wings; as you know, being born a pegasus is a sign of righteousness in a past life. With what you have accomplished, many Knights would be willing to offer you sponsorship.

“So my advice? Boldness with respect, as you have shown me, my little pony. Write honestly of your accomplishments and ambitions. Do not boast, but don’t hide behind false modesty. Do you know the Knight you intend to write to?”

“S-sir Steadfast Word, lady.”

“Steadfast Word of the Knights Mystic? It’s pretty rare for a Knight to offer sponsorship to an applicant who isn’t even planning on joining the same Holy Order,” Lady Ruby replied. “Not unheard of, though. Why him?”

“He… did me a kindness, years ago,” Emberglow said, looking down, not wanting to meet the Knight’s eyes. Or her father’s; she knew he was also looking away, misty-eyed. “It inspired me, made me want to join the Knights, to help people like he does. Like you do,” she finished. Lady Ruby smiled.

“Sounds like a good reason. I know Steadfast. I’ll send him a note, let him know to expect your letter. Call it a birthday present. And if he turns you down, come see me at my courtroom. I can only sponsor one pony at a time, and I’m currently putting a young earth pony stallion from Appleoosa through Knight training, but I’m sure I can find some other Knight who would be willing to sponsor you. I doubt Steadfast will pass you up, though.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, my lady!” Emberglow gushed. Instinctively, she moved forward to embrace the older mare before remembering herself. “Do you… um… may I…”

“I do accept hugs, young filly,” Lady Ruby said with a delighted laugh, holding out her front hooves for the youngster, who immediately hugged the generous Knight. “Just be sure to stop by the Cathedral soon and thank the Saints for the serendipity of our meeting.”

“Oh, I will, my lady! Thank you so much!” Emberglow was practically glowing, like her namesake. She was one step closer to her ultimate goal, becoming a Knight, and making her family proud of her! Well, more proud, she supposed. She grinned over at her father, who was beaming as well. Ruby Berry smiled at the scene before her, and with a little wave of her hoof, resumed her grueling pace down the trail.

“You know you have to be careful around Knights,” her father said in a low voice, as soon as Lady Ruby was out of earshot. Not that he would ever speak poorly of the holy Knights, but Emberglow knew what he meant. Knights had near absolute power over the ponies around them, and not every Knight behaved with the same grace this one had. Though Ruby Berry was a Knight for Saint Applejack, she clearly valued generosity and kindness, as well. “C’mon. Let’s go visit the Everfree Cathedral.”

Though it wasn’t their local cathedral, the Everfree Cathedral was closest to their jogging spot, and one of Emberglow’s favorites. The two ponies walked down to where the jogging path intersected with Greenleaf Way, the street that bisected the Everfree District. Everfree Cathedral was not ostentatious, nor was it large. Unlike other structures in the rest of the city, it was partially exposed; the designers had wanted the faithful who worshiped there to never be out of touch with nature. Rather than walls, the Cathedral had a series of arches and pillars, holding up the ceiling canopy above while leaving the sides nearly completely open. Planters and hanging pots filled the Cathedral, flowing with greenery and flowers.

The ceiling itself was covered in soil; pegasus gardeners maintained a flower garden on the pointed roof. As Textile and Emberglow approached, there was a single gardener working on the roof, carefully weeding between the flowers while carefully hovering, not touching his hooves to the roof at all. He waved to them with a cheerful grin as they approached, but then returned to his work.

The interior of the Cathedral was shaped like many others. A half circle of statues, three of earth ponies and three of pegasi, surrounded several concentric half-circle benches. Each statue was unclad, so that the Saint’s carved cutie marks could be seen. While some Cathedrals had larger statues, or more room for petitioners, the Everfree Cathedral felt intimate despite its open layout.

Each Cathedral arranged its six statues differently, depending on the favored Saints of whoever constructed the cathedral. The Everfree Cathedral, built nearly four centuries ago by a Sister of the Knights Radiant, gave its most prominent position to Saint Rarity and Saint Fluttershy, due to the former’s connection to the mare who constructed it, and the latter’s legendary connection with the creatures that used to live here, in what had once been called the Everfree Forest. As usual, a small cloth had been draped over the head of Saint Fluttershy, obscuring her gaze from the sins of her wayward heretic children.

While the statues in the Cathedral were not painted, a planter in front of each contained a mix of flowers bearing the colors traditionally associated with each Saint. The planter in front of Saint Rarity was a mix of violets and baby’s breath. Emberglow looked at her father and smiled before assuming her usual spot, right in front of the statue of Lady Rarity. Her father would usually sit near the middle, not favoring a particular saint, but today he moved over to sit in front of Saint Pinkamena’s statue.

“Lady Rarity, I know you were looking out for me today,” she whispered to the stone-carved earth pony in front of her. She could hear her father muttering his own prayers over in front of Saint Pinkamena. “It may have been you or Saint Applejack who put the magistrate in our path, but whoever it was, thank you. I wish to serve you, and serve as you served. Help look out for me while I’m in med school.” She glanced over at the statue of the pegasus Saint Twilight Sparkle. Maybe she should have been addressing her prayers about scholarship to her? Gazing up at the carved eyes of Saint Rarity, she realized she could do that later. She had never been as at peace with Saint Twilight as she was with Saint Rarity, or even some of the others. Saint Rarity’s eyes just held a gentleness to them that drew her in; she could sit here for hours, breathing in the smell of the violets, feeling the wind dance across her fur. She looked over at her father. There were tears in his eyes as he prayed to Saint Pinkamena, as was often the case. Emberglow herself had favored Saint Pinkamena once, before her little brother had been born.

Before they had seen his horn.

Emberglow didn’t bear Saint Pinkamena any ill will; not in the slightest. But for the entire eleven months of Needle Point’s pregnancy, Emberglow had come to the Cathedral nearest their home every day to pray to Saint Pinkamena for her brother’s safe delivery. When he had been born a unicorn, well… Saint Pinkamena had clearly been trying to teach her something, only she couldn’t tell what. Since then, she had spent more time in front of the other Saints, even Saint Twilight.

Emberglow moved over to Saint Applejack, offering a quick prayer of gratitude for the kindness of her Knight, and even whispered a short but grateful word to Saint Rainbow Dash for their safe morning exercise.

She then felt herself drifting towards Saint Twilight. For some reason, the statue of the earth pony-turned-pegasus had always intimidated her, just a little. Saint Twilight was always carved to look regal, royal, with her wings nearly always flared out to either side. Seen as first among equals, she was usually carved to have a slightly longer wingspan than either of the other pegasus Saints, though Saint Fluttershy was only very rarely depicted as having spread her wings at all. But the regal pose and piercing eyes always served to make Saint Twilight look overly stern to Emberglow, like the holy pegasus would swoop down at any second on the young pegasus filly to administer a stern rebuke, or worse. She knew she shouldn’t feel that way, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Um… Saint Twilight?” she began, and felt guilty before she even spoke. “I know we’re supposed to forget. I know that. But please. Keep watch over Lucky Break. I know he’s a unicorn, but he should be safe now, right? In the relocation colony, without his horn, where he can’t hurt anypony. So please, if you could let him know his sister loves him? Inspire him to live his life well, so he can be reborn into better circumstances. Thanks.” She was supposed to forget that she’d ever even had a brother, but that first sight of Lucky Break, with his pale blue eyes, white fur, and black mane, was seared forever into her memory. She’d only been five at the time, but she would remember forever, even though it might be a sin.

Emberglow looked up from her bowed position at the hoof of Saint Twilight’s statue to notice her father had walked over. Even though it was customary to not overhear another’s prayers (or at least pretend to) the glaze in Textile’s eyes, and the look of gentle pride and love as he looked into hers, told her he had overheard. Wordlessly the older earth pony reached out a hoof and pulled his daughter into a close hug, and the two ponies nuzzled their cheeks together. Together they mourned quietly. Emberglow looked up at Saint Twilight, and for a brief second, the nonliving stone appeared not stern or aloof, but understanding. Compassionate. There was a moment of serenity in the Cathedral as she knelt there, cuddled by her father. Emberglow silently mouthed ‘thank you’ to Saint Twilight and broke away from her embrace with her father, sniffling just a little.

“Well, let’s go see if we can drag your mother out of bed. If we’re lucky, she’ll have coffee ready for us.”

“That’s worth praying for,” Emberglow said with a giggle.

“Would you believe I already said as much to Saint Pinkamena?” her father said, smirking. The two ponies were laughing together as they left the Cathedral.

They didn’t walk home, but rather trotted. While nothing near her workout (both mental and physical) in the Everfree, it still gave them a little time to get their heart rates up for a few extra minutes. Emberglow loved to jog, especially with her father. It had been almost two years ago when she had demanded he start working her up to where she could do the same exercise routines as enlisted ponies, as her father had once been. She was nearing her goal of being able to run the same distances required by anypony who joined the military.

Needle Point Textiles, her parents’ shop, sat on Emerald Street, surrounded by dozens of other shops. The Merchant’s Walk was a collection of streets, all named after gems like Emerald, Ruby, or Sapphire. They were full of shops, mostly small two- or three-story buildings pushed close together. Most shop owners ran their businesses themselves, and lived above their stores. Needle Point Textiles was no different. The storefront was glass, with a large display case on either side of the transparent glass door. Each display case held one ponequin, with one decorated in a suit and hat, and the other sporting a summer dress in a floral print. The ‘closed/open’ sign at the front door was flipped to closed, and the electric lights, installed just last year, were still switched off.

Emberglow was surprised to see the empty shop next to their own. For weeks after Mr. Hardsell had retired, the store had remained empty, with a ‘For Sale’ sign in the window. Today, though, the ‘For Sale’ sign was absent, and Emberglow could see a few crates inside the mostly empty store.

“Somepony bought Mr. Hardsell’s shop?” Emberglow asked.

“Oh yeah,” Textile responded. “I met him yesterday. He’s kind of odd. He was a carpenter out near Stalliongrad, but he wanted to retire to the city to make toys. I think he said his name was Oak Chips.”

“He’s bought a shop so he can retire?”

“Apparently making toys is going to be much more relaxing than his normal work. He told me he has enough saved that he doesn’t need to work at all, but he just loves carving so much that he couldn’t just stay idle. I’ll take you to meet him in a few days.”

“I’d like that. He sounds nice,” Emberglow said, as they moved on to their own family tailor shop. The sign over the door bore the shop’s name. Seeing the shop front often filled Emberglow with a mild pang of guilt. She knew her parents could have been much more successful in a smaller town; with so much competition, and the high cost of living here in New Canterlot City, she knew they weren’t making nearly as much money, or saving nearly as much for their eventual retirement, as they would have if they were still living in a small town like Rainbow Falls, where they had moved from as soon as Emberglow had received her cutie mark. It was just one of dozens of sacrifices her beloved parents had made for their daughter, and she felt the weight of those sacrifices keenly. Here in the city, Emberglow could get a much better education than anything offered in the rural, or even suburban, schools. She had once offered, when she’d realized all this, to give up on her education so that they could make more bits elsewhere. She had been firmly denied, though her parents had appreciated her kindness. Her mother always said she was far too mature for her age.

Textile reached into his saddlebag, where he kept Emberglow’s flashcards, their spare water canteens (in case the fountain wasn’t working for whatever reason) and the keys to his shop. He pushed the door, swinging it open to reveal the shop inside. The keys became slightly stuck in the lock as the door opened; with a muttered ‘whoops’ from Textile, they clanged to the floor, loudly tinkling against the tile floor before he could catch them. Something about this felt odd to Emberglow, but she didn’t think about it.

The shop was ready for business, with several more ponequins filled with Emberglow’s parent’s creations. Several racks were filled with hangars with different sizes, colors, and styles of clothes. Her parents were not high fashion designers; they catered to the middle class, everyday ponies like themselves, with practical needs. Not that Emberglow didn’t occasionally like to look at some of the high-end boutiques and dream, sometimes, but she loved the down-to-earth sensibleness of her parent’s designs.

In the back of the shop, behind the sales counter, was a wrought iron spiral staircase going up to the second floor, where the family’s living room and kitchen were, as well as some storage space for the store’s back stock. Father and daughter ascended the staircase into the darkness above. That was odd; by this point the sun was rising, and there had been plenty of light in the store below. Somepony must have drawn the curtains in the large living room window, which rarely ever happened; her mother loved the sun. “Natural lighting is good for the body and the soul,” was something Needle Point said frequently. It had taken quite a bit for Textile to convince her that the expense of installing electric lights was worth it; in the end, it had been Emberglow’s study habits that had tipped the scales.

Emberglow was about to comment on the oddity, when the curtains were suddenly flung open. Standing there, with a giant grin on her face, was Needle Point, her mother, fully awake though still dressed in her nightgown. Light flooded the room to reveal a ponequin in the center of the room.

“Surprise!” her mother and father shouted in unison, giggling like foals. In retrospect, it had been obvious. The dark room, and Textile’s awkwardly dropped keys should have been a giveaway. The two of them had moved a ponequin from the shop (again, a detail Emberglow should have noticed; they only had five in the shop itself, not counting the ones in the door display). On it sat a gorgeous, hand-made creation. It was a cream colored dress, with flared sleeves for her front hooves and a flowing skirt, wide enough to allow a full range of motion, with a modest slit going up to just above the knee. A blue belt, built into the dress, would sit just above the hips. Either side of the belt was fastened with a decorative buckle, custom-designed to look just like Emberglow’s cutie mark, a blue-outlined cross with a similarly blue crystal heart on the inside. The buckles alone had to have been expensive, worth at least several days of the shop’s profits. The skirt was cream-colored like the blouse but was polka-dotted with rose-colored dots, matching Emberglow’s fur.

Emberglow fell in love with the dress the second her eyes fell on it.

“Mom, Dad, I told you I didn’t need anything for my birthday,” she said, blushing, as she moved closer to the dress. Her hoof went out, as if magnetically attracted to the soft fabric, and she brushed against the material of the blouse. It was a soft and light satin, with just a hint of a shimmery, glossy look. The belt was velvet, and she ran her hooves over that as well, reveling in the softness. Her vision clouded; she was crying a little. The dress looked simple on the outside, but the materials were finer than the practical cotton her parents usually worked with. They had splurged for her.

“We know, sweetie,” her mom said. “We just ignored you.”

“Your mother and I couldn’t help ourselves,” Textile said. “We’re just so proud of you, and so happy about the pony you’re becoming. We knew we needed to do something special.”

Emberglow turned to face them, her eyes leaking tears. She was beaming at her parents, who had nearly identical silly grins painted across their muzzles. Without a word, she ran over to where they stood in the living room, rearing up to encircle them both in a crushing hug.

“It’s beautiful. Perfect. I love it. Thank you so much,” she whispered as she squeezed her parents in her embrace.

“We thought you might need something nice to wear besides your school uniform,” her mother replied, wiping at her own wet eyes with one hoof. “Besides, who knows? Maybe someday you’ll want to dress up a bit for a special somepony.”

That statement left a cold lump in the pit of Emberglow’s stomach. Her parents didn’t know, because of course she’d never told them. A few very carefully worded questions to her confessor had told her everything she needed to know; acting on her attraction to mares might be a sin, but the attraction itself was not. As long as she never did anything about the lustful thoughts she had about her own sex, her parents would never need to know about them, right? It did mean Needle Point’s occasional side comments of someday wanting grandfoals were uncomfortable. She stepped gently away from the hug, her heart a twisted tempest of love, gratitude, and shame.

“Um, mom, you’ll never guess what happened on our run today,” Emberglow began, a little awkwardly. Needle Point didn’t seem to notice the discomfort.

“You’ll have to tell me over breakfast, Emberglow. But first, early morning jogging ponies need to shower.” She wrinkled her snout at them. “Both of you. I’ll go make pancakes.” Emberglow found herself grinning again. Pancakes were her favorite.

“Mom, you don’t have to, oats are…”

“Not nearly good enough for my little princess on her twelfth birthday,” Needle Point interrupted firmly. “Now go, wash your exercise funk off, and there might even be strawberries.”

Emberglow couldn’t help herself. With a filly-like squee, she ran upstairs to the home’s only shower, chased by the sound of her parents’ laughter.

The bathroom was small but clean, and the only one in the house. It was located on the third floor, the same space as her bedroom, and her parent’s room. She quickly shed her exercise clothing. Emberglow had long since learned to limit her time using the shared space. She had never been much for primping or makeup, anyways. She stepped into the small, one pony shower, and turned the handle to start the flow of water, letting out a shriek of terror when she realized she’d grabbed the wrong knob by mistake and had soaked herself with icy water. Quickly twisting the correct knob, she let out a sigh of relief as the hot water sluiced away her sweat. Wasting only a brief moment to luxuriate in the water, she picked up the bottle of liquid, rose-scented soap that was her favorite, and squeezed a dollop onto her loofah. She thoroughly rubbed herself down with the sweet lather, before taking a moment to rinse off and step out of the shower onto the fuzzy bath mat.

Emberglow knew her parents were talking. The comment from her mother would have prompted a conversation with her father, and Textile would now be trying to find a diplomatic way to speak with Needle Point about Emberglow’s plans. She’d always been able to be brutally honest with her father, but it broke her heart to disappoint her mother in any way.

After drying off, she quickly brushed her mane and tail, tying back the former in her customary ponytail. She was about to slip her bathrobe on in order to run to her room to get clean clothing when she heard a gentle knock on the door.

“I grabbed something for you to wear, it’s outside the door,” she heard her mother say. Emberglow cracked the door open and saw the dress, her new, beautiful, beloved dress, folded just outside the door. She excitedly snatched up the garment and closed the bathroom door, with a call of ‘Thanks, mom!’ shouted down the hallway.

The dress felt as good as it looked. It was perfectly sized for her, which made sense because her parents were professional tailors. The material was soft and comfortable, and she felt like she could move well. Emberglow took a moment to admire the decorative buckles in the mirror; her parents must have been planning this for months, because they were custom made of metal and crystal, beautiful without being ostentatious. When she was finally ready to leave the bathroom, her father was waiting patiently, a fresh towel and his everyday clothes piled on his back.

“Wow, you look amazing, Emberglow,” he said, and she blushed.

“Of course I do, you two made the dress, and you’re amazing,” she replied.

“My little girl would look great in a potato sack,” Textile said with a huff and a smile, before trotting into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Emberglow rolled her eyes and went downstairs, to see if her mother needed any help with breakfast.

The batter was already cooking in the pan on the stove when Emberglow walked into the kitchen. Her mother, spatula in hoof, turned to look her daughter over.

“You look great, sweetie,” Needle Point said, and Emberglow smiled.

“It’s the dress,” she replied, and her mom shook her head.

“Not just the dress, and you know it, pretty girl. Now, can you help chop up the strawberries?”

Emberglow was perfectly happy to help with that chore. She chopped the strawberries and cooked them down with some sugar to make a syrup. Meanwhile, Needle Point kept cooking the pancakes, adding to an ever growing stack.

“So we ran into a Knight while we were jogging this morning,” Emberglow began, unable to wait any longer until breakfast to share the story of what had happened with Ruby Berry.

“Oh?” her mother asked, interested.

“Yeah, it was the local magistrate. Lady Ruby Berry. She’s really nice,” Emberglow said.

“I’m sure she is. Your father was very impressed with her after that nasty business with that fraudster a while back.”

“Yeah, they talked about that a bit. And I asked her about writing my letter.”

“Your letter? Oh.” Needle Point’s voice dropped a little with hesitation. “What did she say?”

“Well, she was asking about me, and why I was studying while running, and we told her about medical school and stuff, and when I asked her about the letter she said she’d put in a good word with Sir Steadfast.” Emberglow realized her mistake as soon as the words left her lips. Her mother went pale, her green eyes stricken.

“S-sir Steadfast? That’s who you’re going to write to for sponsorship?” her mother asked, trying and failing to steady her voice. Emberglow reached up a hoof to her mother, gently resting it on the older mare’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, mom. I should have said something sooner. I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this. Yes, I’m going to write to him. I know…” she took a deep breath, trying not to notice the unshed tears in Needle Point’s eyes. “…I know that he’s kind. That he took the time, during one of the hardest and worst days of my life, to comfort a little filly whose entire world had just shattered. To answer her questions, and to try and make things better. Mom, I wanna do that for other ponies. Not exactly in the same way, but he inspires me.”

“That…that’s beautiful, sweetie,” Needle Point said, sniffing. “So you’re going to try to become a Knight Mystic, like Sir Steadfast?” There was a hopeful note in Needle Point’s voice that Emberglow didn’t miss.

“No, mom. I’m still wanting to try for the Knights Radiant. I feel a connection to Saint Rarity, ever since… well, you know. I think that is where my talent will be the most useful.”

“Just checking, Emberglow,” her mom said, though they both knew there was more to it than that. “You might have changed your mind, after all.”

“No, mom.” Both mares were silent for a moment while they prepared the food. “Mom? I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for, sweetie?” Needle Point asked, though Emberglow heard the slightest quaver of sadness in her mother’s voice. A hundred ways to bring up the subject, to apologize again, to talk about what her mother was really sad about, passed through her mind.

“Nothing, mom.”

“Emberglow… I love you very much,” her mother said, pausing from her efforts at the stove to take her daughter’s face in both hooves. The mares gazed eye to eye. “I am so proud of you; you have been a blessing straight from the Saints for both me and your father. I don’t know what the Saints saw in us to bless us with a pegasus daughter, but not a day has gone by that I haven’t thanked them for you. No matter what you do, no matter what you choose, I will love you, and I will be proud of you.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her mother her deepest secret. The dark shame, the sinful lust that she struggled with. But at that moment, her father entered the kitchen, dressed in his everyday work clothes.

“Pancakes! And strawberries!” the stallion cheered, and the rest of his family laughed. The three of them sat down at the table, and Textile asked a prayer on the food.

“Six Saints, please bless this food we are about to eat. Bless our daughter on her birthday, and be with her while she studies. All Saints keep us.”

“All Saints keep us,” the other two intoned with him.

Birthday pancakes somehow tasted even better than regular day pancakes. The little family relished in their morning time around the table, laughing and telling stories. When it was time to open the store, Emberglow stayed behind to finish cleaning the dishes while her parents went downstairs to prepare for the sales day. She used the time alone to think about the conversation with her mother.

There was something about her decision to pursue Knighthood that disappointed her mother. What was it? Emberglow knew that her mother was honest, nearly to a fault, and so was fairly certain that she wasn’t lying when she said how proud she was of Emberglow. What was it, then, that put that look in Needle Point’s eyes?

Was her mother worried for her? Knights lived dangerous lives, it was true. They were the elite of the elite, more powerful than the strongest soldiers in the Holy Equestrian Diarchy’s military. A sacred ritual, only undertaken at the final moment of the supplicant’s Knighting, led to super pony abilities; they could run farther and faster, stay awake for days, and fight stronger than other ponies. And that wasn’t even counting the enchanted armor and rune spell batteries that allowed a Knight to cast magical spells.

With all that protection, however, Knights were often sent on the most dangerous assignments, the most challenging missions, where violence was guaranteed and fighting was often lethal. No one of the Holy Orders was safe, so perhaps that was what had Needle Point so worried?

Emberglow wondered what it had been like before she was born, when Textile had been a soldier himself. Born to a poor family, Textile had never had the chance to embark on the path to Knighthood. Instead, he had served as a combat medic, on the front lines of the border skirmishes with the dragon lands. Textile still had a few scars, mostly on his barrel and sides, where dragon claws had rent his flesh in the heat of battle. Emberglow had always loved to hear the stories of his fights with the dragons, but her favorite parts were about the ponies he had healed, the stallions and mares whose lives he had saved. It was a big part of what had interested her in reading medical texts to begin with, which naturally had led to her cutie mark.

Oh well. Whatever Needle Point was really worried about, there was little Emberglow could do about it. She decided to let the matter rest for now, and finished drying the last of the plates, replacing them in the wooden cupboard above the sink. She went down the iron stairs to the shop, so she could spend the day helping her parents run the store.

Emberglow knew a little bit about sewing, but she didn’t have her parent’s talent. She was able to run the register, however, and she knew just enough, having grown up her entire life in a tailor shop, to answer any questions the customers had. This freed her parents to move into the workroom in the back of the shop, where there were two sewing machines, and dozens of shelves lined with material, tools, thread, and other implements for sewing and creation. Emberglow loved to hear them chattering away as they created, sometimes bickering lightly about this or that idea, but never with any malice. She had her own little stack of books underneath the sales counter; if things became slow, she could sit and read. Currently resting on top of the stack was the classic medical text, Grey’s Pony Anatomy. Her father had declared his incredulity that she could stand to read such a dull tome, but Emberglow loved to learn; every new fact, new name for a bone, or detail about this part of the circulatory system or that organ and how it worked, was like unburying hidden treasures for her.

Today was going to be a little different, however. Instead of sitting behind the counter and reading, Emberglow was determined to be standing in front of it. Every pony who came into the shop would see the beautiful dress that her parents had made for her, surely with great time and expense. Neither Textile nor Needle Point had asked her to model for them, but she was not going to pass up this opportunity to advertise for her hardworking family. It didn’t hurt that she truly loved the dress.

As she had expected, Emberglow received several compliments about her attire throughout the work day. While her parents were working on custom orders and alterations in the back, dozens of ponies came through the shop looking for off-the-rack attire. Many mentioned the dress, and Emberglow made sure to summon one of her parents each time, so they could personally hear the compliments for their work (and maybe even pick up a commission or two for future dresses). It only took a few times of this for her parents to realize what she was doing, and from the amused smirks from her mother and patient eye-rolls from her father, she didn’t think they minded too much. It did make the day pass swiftly, and Emberglow was practically prancing the entire time.

When the family finally closed up the shop for the evening, Needle Point asked her daughter what she would like for a birthday dinner, and was only slightly surprised when the young mare sheepishly asked for pancakes again. Reasoning that birthdays were special, and only happened once a year, the family repeated their morning meal in the evening, though both adults teased Emberglow a little for it. She didn’t care; she had pancakes. And strawberries!

Lying in bed that night, however, Emberglow couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow she would begin work on her sponsorship letter, and she couldn’t shake the anxiety that it would have to be perfect. She lay in her bed, covered by her blankets but with the window still wide open. Emberglow preferred sleeping in a cold room with lots of blankets.

Her ears perked up at a soft sound drifting in through her window. Somepony was crying. It was her mother.

She knew she should just ignore it, and go to sleep. If Needle Point wanted Emberglow to know what was wrong, she would say something. But as the sobbing continued, her guilt and curiosity would not fade. Emberglow sidled up to the window as quietly as she could, trying to get a better idea of what was upsetting her mom.

“I’m a terrible mother,” Needle Point sobbed. Emberglow could hear Textile shushing his wife.

“No, you’re not,” he started, but she interrupted him.

“Yes, I am. I’m a terrible mother, and I’m selfish and vile. I’m so proud of her, but…”

“Talk to me, Needle Point.”

“She’s joining the Knights Radiant, Textile. You know what that means.”

“It’s not set in stone which Holy Order she’ll join. She might not even make it into any of them.”

“You know our daughter as well as I do, Textile. She’s set her mind to it. She won’t give up, not ever. She’ll get what she wants. And then… and then she’ll never…” Her mother cut off, her sentence ended by a fresh wave of sobbing. Emberglow was confused. She’d never… what? She listened while her father comforted her mother more. “Is it too much to ask? To hope for? Just one more time, Textile. Just one more time I wanted to hold a foal in my hooves. A grandfoal would have been just fine.”

Oh. That was it. Emberglow felt like she’d been kicked straight in the gut. Of course. The Knights Radiant were everything Emberglow had wanted; she would have a chance to share her talent with the world, healing and saving ponies, and spreading the love of the Saint of Generosity to everypony around her. But the Knights Radiant swore an oath of celibacy. She would never have foals. Why had Needle Point never said anything about all this to her?

“It’s not too much to ask, and it’s okay to feel sad, Needle Point. That doesn’t make you a bad mother, or a bad pony.” Emberglow could have cheered at her father. Of course it didn’t! Needle Point was the best mother ever! “Emberglow knows that, too. She loves you.”

“I know. She’s perfect,” Needle Point said, sounding just a little bitter. “I hate myself sometimes…”

“No! Please don’t talk like that. I love you. Emberglow loves you. You’re a wonderful mother, or else why would the Saints have trusted you with a pegasus to raise?”

“What about Lucky Break?” Needle Point murmured.

“Even unicorns need a chance to be born, if only so they have the opportunity to better themselves in the relocation colonies. The Saints knew you were strong enough to handle it.”

“I’m not handling it, Textile. Clearly.”

“Do you want to tell Emberglow she shouldn’t write the letter?” Textile asked.

“No!” Needle Point protested, nearly shouting. “I would never…”

“Exactly. Because that’s not who you are. You don’t try to control her, or shape her into what you want her to be. Instead you’ve always let her be herself, and loved her no matter what. That sounds like handling it just fine to me.”

“But… is it too much to wish for? Just one grandfoal?”

“Wishing’s always fine. Needle Point, I want the same thing, believe me. When it gets to be too much, we can cry together. Don’t let it bottle up.”

“Okay…”

Emberglow couldn’t listen any more. As silently as she could, she got out of her bed and slowly slid the window closed, cutting off the sound of her parent’s tears. Her own eyes were wet.

Chapter 2

Typewriter copy of a letter, obtained from the office of Sir Steadfast Word of the Knights Mystic. The reply is also included

Sir Steadfast Word,

My name is Emberglow. I am writing to humbly request your financial support and sponsorship in my efforts to attain Knighthood. My family has neither the resources nor the influence to do this on our own.

I am only twelve years old at the time of writing this letter. I realize that Knight training does not typically begin until a pony is fourteen, but I will be entering medical school next month. My goal is to complete my three-year medical school training, then begin working towards Knighthood when I am fifteen. I wished to begin the process of sponsorship now, in case I needed to alter my medical school plans or schedule in order to accommodate Knight training.

I believe I should also mention that I intend to try and join with the Knights Radiant. Though it is rare for a pony to ask for sponsorship from somepony not a member of the Order she is aspiring towards, you have been a great source of inspiration and spiritual strength to me over the last few years of my life. I am determined to succeed at my goals, but I thought it would be appropriate to first ask you for sponsorship before seeking other options.

Should you require proof of any of my claims, I have attached copies of my high school diploma and my acceptance letter to medical school. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Emberglow

Dear Miss Emberglow,

I would be delighted to consider you for sponsorship. Please meet with me at my office at Suite 3H of Star Shine Memorial Building, located at 387 Nightsky Way, at 3 PM this Thursday. If the time is not acceptable, write to my secretary at that address and we will find a more convenient time.

I look forward to speaking with you. You seem like a remarkable young lady.

Signed,

Sir Steadfast Word, Master Inquisitor, Knights Mystic

A hoofwritten note is also attached to the two letters. “Steadfast- Thanks for supplying these. I don’t think they’ll be very relevant to our investigation, but it does give us some insight into the suspect’s early life. I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

1106 AF, New Canterlot City

“Sweetie, don’t you think a bow would look nice?” Needle Point asked as her hooves fussed over Emberglow’s mane.

“Mom, stop fussing,” Emberglow grumped, doing her best to stop herself from fending off her mother’s nervous hooves with her wings. “I’m fine. I look fine. The dress is enough.”

“But Emberglow, what if…”

“Mom, please,” Emberglow sighed. Textile had already retreated from the feminine battleground he’d seen brewing. He was downstairs minding the shop while Needle Point got Emberglow ready for her interview. They had both offered to close the shop for the day just to help her get ready, but Emberglow thought that would have been unnecessary. She insisted they not fuss over her too much. Like Needle Point was, right now.

“Well, if you insist, sweetie, but I still think…”

“Oh, look at the time!” Emberglow gasped desperately, glancing at the clock sitting on the living room wall above their couch. She didn’t even look long enough to read the hands. “I should get going!” She dashed towards the spiral staircase, running down the steps two at a time, chased by her mother’s cry of surprise.

The shop was empty, except for Textile, who shot Emberglow a sympathetic look as she fled into the room with her mother in pursuit. When Needle Point got down the stairs, she shared a look with her husband, but she said nothing.

“Do you need me to walk you down to the inquisition building, Emberglow?” Textile asked. Emberglow shook her head.

“I do know where to find it, Dad.”

“Maybe we should put that differently, dear,” Needle Point said more forcefully. “Emberglow, your father and I would feel much less nervous about this whole thing if one of us walked you down to the building and waited during your interview. Would that be okay?” Emberglow laughed.

“Well, I guess so,” Emberglow said, feigning reluctance. Both of her parents smiled.

“I’ll watch the shop. You two have fun, and be sure to come straight home with the good news. I’ll make a celebratory cake, or something.”

“You’re acting like I already got the sponsorship, mom,” Emberglow said.

“I’m just that confident,” Needle Point replied. “Now hurry. If you’re ten minutes early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late.”

“Yes, mother,” Emberglow said, mock grumpily. It was one of her mother’s favorite sayings, and one that Emberglow secretly believed. It was a foal’s job to be annoyed at her parents, though, and she would happily oblige.

She left the shop with her father in tow, and the two of them set off towards the Temple District, a few miles’ walk away from their shop. They could have arranged for a taxi, something her parents had offered to do, but Emberglow didn’t feel the need to spend the money. A half hour’s walk wasn’t too much.

Unlike the Merchant’s Walk, the Temple District didn’t have any commercial buildings or shops. Instead it held the official buildings of the Holy Equestrian Diarchy, from the central (and largest) cathedral, to the offices of the papacy, the office buildings of the five remaining Holy Orders, and even the offices of the mayor of New Canterlot City and other local government buildings. Both literally and politically, it was the center of all New Canterlot City.

The buildings in the Temple District were much taller than the ones near Emberglow’s parent’s shop, with some of them reaching as high as ten or twelve stories into the sky. The structures were as varied as they were beautiful, their diverse architectural styles alluding to the rich history of the city.

The most impressive building, of course, was the High Cathedral, situated right in the center of the city. Six tall spires, each one towering more than thirteen stories high, were arranged in a circle around a central hub. Each of the spires was decorated with a fresco of one of the six Saints, their watchful gazes looking out over all of New Canterlot. The soaring spires of the High Cathedral were visible from anywhere in New Canterlot City, and ponies liked to think that the Saint that looked out over their particular section of the city was special to them, watching out for them specifically. Legend said that at one time, the ground that held the High Cathedral had been the home of a massive castle, constructed entirely of crystal, which housed Saint Twilight and her fellow Saints.

The place Emberglow was headed, Star Shine Memorial Building — though it was often just called just the Inquisition Office — was the office building that did the business of the Knights Mystic, Saint Twilight’s Holy Order of Knights. About a block away from the High Cathedral, this edifice was shorter than the former building, though it looked no less majestic to her. Constructed to resemble a fortress, it had square walls made of grey stone, with stylized battlements on the top. Into the towering walls were carved images of Saint Twilight’s cutie mark, a six pointed star.

The Knights Mystic were dedicated to keeping the Diarchy free from the threats of unicorns, heretics, and other magical threats. The building was named after Star Shine the pegasus, one of the first members of the Knights Mystic and a martyr in the Second Great Heresy who had died at the hooves of the dreaded Sunset Shimmer herself. Indeed, the stallion himself, immortalized in sculpture, stood valiantly in front of the entrance of the building, wings spread dramatically. Saint Twilight’s cutie mark was carved into the flank of his Knight Armor, as usual for a Knight Mystic, but Star Shine wore his own cutie mark as a medallion about his neck; a trio of stars, arranged in a diagonal line.

Emberglow and her father walked past the statue and into the building. The large, open double doors led into a rotunda that split into several hallways. Directly in front of the entryway was a huge staircase going up; apparently the Knights Mystic didn’t believe in elevators. In front of the staircase was a circular desk with two secretaries, a pair of older mares. Textile and Emberglow walked up to the secretaries.

“Can I help you ponies?” one of the mares asked. Emberglow hesitated, but Textile nudged her forward. He was going to let her do all her own speaking, apparently.

“I have an appointment with Sir Steadfast Word,” she said, trying to sound as confident as possible. “Can you tell me how to get to his office? It’s suite 3H.”

“Of course, dear. 3H is on the third floor. Head up those stairs behind me to the third floor, then take a left. His office has both the suite number and his name on a plaque outside.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” Emberglow said, and Textile nodded at the secretary. There were few other ponies in the building; most of them were dressed in purple robes, though there were a few wearing Knight armor. Emberglow tried her best not to ogle like a tourist. She was only mostly successful.

They reached the top of the stairs and headed left. The door to suite 3H was open, and the two ponies passed by the plaque on the wall to the right of the door. It read ‘Sir Steadfast Word, Master Inquisitor.’

3H’s front room was a small waiting area, with a desk, two chairs, and a door to the inner office. Sir Steadfast was important enough to have his own personal secretary, a young stallion dressed in similar robes as those downstairs. The only differences were the fact that it was dyed white, and the decoration on the flank of the robes: it was emblazoned with all six cutie marks of the Saints. Only Knights could wear the sacred symbols of the Saints, but squires, Knights in training, wore a mix of all six. The red earth pony looked up from his typewriter as they walked in.

“You’re the appointment for Sir Steadfast? Uh…” The pony glanced at a note on his desk. “Miss Emberglow, right? He’s waiting for you. Your um…” He motioned at Textile.

“My father,” Emberglow supplied.

“Your father can wait out here,” he finished. Emberglow nodded. The squire stood up and opened the door for her politely, and she walked nervously into Sir Steadfast’s personal office. She suddenly felt queasy; after years of studying and effort, the entirety of her future plans rested on this one single interview.

The office wasn’t large, but wasn’t small either. There were two large bookshelves on either end of the room, crammed full of books and loose papers. The few bare spots on the wall were covered with two paintings; Emberglow recognized one of them as a cityscape of New Canterlot City. A large desk, scattered with disorganized papers, sat in the middle of the room. There were at least a half dozen books stacked precariously on the desk, as well. Behind that desk sat the owner of the office himself.

“You are Miss Emberglow?” the stallion asked politely, rising to his hooves to walk around the desk and shake her hoof. She nervously accepted the gesture. Sir Steadfast was wearing his armor, but had removed the helmet. It was sitting on the floor next to his desk. The armor was lavender, and emblazoned with Saint Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark on the flank section. Sir Steadfast himself was a light blue earth pony, with a short military cut black mane and a narrow, well-trimmed moustache.

“Yes sir,” she said respectfully, grateful that her voice didn’t stutter in her nervousness.

“Please, have a seat,” he motioned to a bench on the other side of his desk. She sat down. He moved to sit behind his desk. The office went silent except for the shuffling of papers as Sir Steadfast rearranged the mess on his desk to place a single manila folder on top. He took a sip from a steaming mug that had been sitting on top of a stack of reports. Emberglow couldn’t help herself; in the brief silence she began to fidget, shifting in her seat as she waited for Sir Steadfast to break the silence.

“So. An odd request for sponsorship from a very odd, but impressive, little pony,” he said as he looked at Emberglow appraisingly. Emberglow jumped a bit as his voice broke the silence. His expression was inscrutable; Emberglow was having a hard time reading him.

“Um, yes sir,” she said uncertainly. She didn’t quite know how to respond to that. Sir Steadfast smiled gently.

“Tell me, why do you want to be a Knight? Some would say there is a humble dignity in a pony doing their best in the place the Saints put them in,” Steadfast said. Emberglow tensed, her nervous excitement turning anxious in an instant, only slightly allayed by the small smile he still wore on his face. It was true; the Book of the Saints taught that reaching above one’s station in life was a sin.

“I, uh…” Emberglow stammered, thrown completely off balance. “I want to help ponies.”

“There are many ways to help ponies, young lady, several far less dangerous than Knighthood. Why do you want to be a Knight, Emberglow?” Sir Steadfast asked, leaning forward intently. He was looking for something more, she thought, and she silently cursed her first lackluster answer. She forced herself to relax, breathing slowly to calm her budding panic as she concentrated on a more thoughtful answer.

“I want to heal. To help ponies like Saint Rarity helped. My dad was a medic in the army, but I think I could do more,” Emberglow said, then flinched at how arrogant she sounded to herself. Sir Steadfast waited a moment before nodding sagely, and Emberglow tried not to sigh with relief.

“A good answer,” Sir Steadfast said. He shifted through the papers on his desk again and pulled out a new folder. When he flipped it open, Emberglow couldn’t help but glance at it to see her school transcripts. “I looked into your background a bit. You have excellent marks in school, and you’re graduating two years early. Very impressive, but you won’t be able to enter the Ivy Seminary for two years. Your letter said you had been accepted to medical school, and that you wish to train for Knighthood after graduating. Are you sure a little pony your age can accomplish so much?” Sir Steadfast mused. He was probing, challenging her, and she could tell. But did she answer with confidence, or humility? She took a gamble.

“I am sure, sir. I’m prepared,” she said, her heart pounding. The small, satisfied smile that spread across Sir Steadfast’s face settled the butterflies in her stomach, just a bit.

“I wasn’t quite sure, so I spoke to some ponies while I was looking into you. Your school principal, Pencil Lead, thinks you have the work ethic to manage.”

“That’s good to hear,” Emberglow said, a little surprised. Pencil Lead had always seemed distant, a disciplinarian with no humor.

“Those study habits will serve you well in both medical school and in the Seminary,” Sir Steadfast said. He paused, his face thoughtful as he tapped a hoof idly on his desk. “Tell me, if you’re going to be learning healing magic from the Knights Radiant, why bother learning mundane inferior medicine at all?”

“I don’t want to be useless if I run out of magic. Besides, it’s my special talent. I got my cutie mark for medicine,” Emberglow replied.

“That’s a very well-reasoned answer, young lady,” Sir Steadfast said with a nod. “It does lead me to another question, though. Does it bother you that you will be starting at the Seminary a year later than other ponies?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“You say that now. But being different will make you stand out. it could lead to difficulties you don’t understand quite yet, on top of an already demanding curriculum.”

“I know it will be demanding, sir. I’ve been doing physical training for two years now. Mostly running and obstacle courses, but flight training on occasion when I can.”

“Ruby Berry did mention meeting you while jogging. That’s quite disciplined for a twelve year old. But physical difficulties are not the only thing that causes some young ponies to reconsider. There are mental difficulties, and emotional ones. Some ponies just aren’t strong enough.”

“Like what, sir?”

“The other pages, for one. Some will see you as beneath them, because you are not pursuing Knighthood due to your family connections or wealth. Some will be jealous of your successes. Many of them will look down on you and bully you because of it.

"Then there is the course material,” Sir Steadfast continued. “ It is rigorous. Knights carry the entire weight of the Holy Diarchy Church on their shoulders; it is our job to take on the hardest duties, the most tasking jobs.” His eyes were locked onto hers, and her breath caught. Emberglow was sure he wouldn’t remember her, not after all these years.

“I know, sir…” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry, her mouth moving soundlessly as she tried to think of what to say. His lips pursed slightly in thought.

“Something on your mind, young lady?”

“I-it’s nothing, sir,” Emberglow stammered. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Um, it was a long time ago—”

“Ah,” Sir Steadfast said, his eyes flashing with recognition as a look of mournful empathy crossed his face. “Your brother.”

“W-what?” Emberglow reeled. He remembered? She was sure he had more important things to think about than her past.

“Your brother. He is a unicorn, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said, with a slow steadying breath. “I didn’t think you would remember him. It’s been eight years.”

“I remembered as soon as I saw your name,” he revealed. “It makes me wonder, though. Why ask me to sponsor you? Most ponies would hesitate to approach somepony who took away one of their family.”

“Sir, you are my inspiration for wanting to join the Knighthood,” Emberglow said. She felt a rush of confidence.

“Oh?” Sir Steadfast asked, sounding curious.

“Sir, that was without exception the very worst day of my life. Ever. But what I remember is a Knight, doing a hard and bitter duty, who took the time to comfort a little confused and heartbroken filly who had no idea what was going on. You answered my questions, Sir. You let me cry on your shoulder, and you made sure I understood as well as a five-year-old could. Of course I remembered.”

“That’s… well, you’re making me into more of a hero than I am, Emberglow,” Sir Steadfast said.

“I don’t think anypony can understand how important that day was to me, Sir. It’s why I want to be a Knight. It’s why I picked the Knights Radiant,” Emberglow said softly. “I want to help ponies to heal their wounds and their hearts, like what you did for us.”

“You know, the Saints command us to forget,” Sir Steadfast said, his voice soft and full of regret. It was true. The Book of the Saints commanded families to forget about their unicorn family members.

“I’ve tried, sir,” Emberglow admitted, feeling tiny in his gaze.

“I remember every unicorn I’ve ever de-horned,” Sir Steadfast said, and Emberglow stared at him in shock. “Surprised? You needn’t be. Knights are ponies just like everypony else. We carry heavier burdens, though. Burdens you will have to be prepared for. It will be difficult.”

“I understand, sir. Or maybe I won’t understand until I get there. I’ve got three years to prepare, too. But I won’t give up. I promised to the Saints.”

“You strike me as the kind of pony that takes those things very seriously,” Sir Steadfast said. “I believe you. Also, I wanted to talk to you about your choice of Knight Order. It’s not a choice you have to make right away. You are completely sure about the Knights Radiant?”

“Yes, I am, sir,” Emberglow nodded.

“I’m glad that you have convictions. It’s just that you have the mind of a scholar. You are a brilliant young pony, and you have a drive and determination to gain knowledge. These are all things Saint Twilight looks for in her Knights, as well. While I’m not asking or telling you to change your mind, I would like you to at least consider joining the Knights Mystic when you finish your training. Honestly consider it.”

“I… I can do that, sir,” she replied.

“Good,” he said, then paused, considering something thoughtfully. “There is one other matter. A curiosity, really, but something you might find interesting. When I looked up your school files I found the registered image of your cutie mark. I brought up something I’d like you to see.” He reached for a manila file folder on his desk, then hesitated a moment. “Now, I don’t wish to shock you. It’s from the Golden Age of the Saints. I don’t know if you learned this in school, but it comes from a time when most ponies didn’t wear clothing all the time. Even the Saints, with perhaps the occasional exception of Saint Rarity, usually went around their business unclad.”

“I remember, sir. I’ve seen some of the photographs in school. And besides, the statues of the Saints are always unclad.”

“That they are,” Sir Steadfast said with a chuckle. He unfolded the folder, opening it up to reveal a facsimile of an ancient photograph. Emberglow leaned over the desk to get a better look.

The picture was clearly of a hospital room; there were two beds, though only one was fully visible; the other was mostly hidden behind a curtain. The bed had one occupant; in fact, she was the only pony in the room that was wearing clothing. It was Saint Rainbow Dash, and one of the pegasus’ wings was bound with bandages. There were four other ponies in the room; three earth ponies, and another pegasus. Emberglow recognized Saint Twilight, Saint Rarity, and Saint Fluttershy, but the third earth pony was unknown to her. It was hard to tell from the black and white photograph, but the mare clearly had white fur, and a light colored mane. She wore a hat, with her mane tied behind it in a bun. The most remarkable thing, however, was that the pony’s cutie mark was remarkably similar to Emberglow’s.

“Now, you know that each of the Holy Orders has their own more detailed accounts of the lives of the Saints. I spoke with some friends of mine over in the Knights Adamant. It seems they tell lots of legends about this pony here,” Sir Steadfast pointed at the mystery mare with his hoof. “Quite often, Saint Rainbow’s energy and exuberance led her to injury. The pony most likely to try and patch her up after one of her injuries was this mare here, an earth pony by the name of Nurse Redheart.”

“That’s…” Emberglow began. “Her cutie mark. It’s just like mine!”

“Not exact, but very close, yes. In color, it was red, with four hearts at the corner of the cross in addition to the one in the middle. Yours is a different color, of course, and lacks the corner hearts. But it is very similar,” Sir Steadfast explained. “We know that no two ponies will ever have the exact same cutie mark. But I’ve always wondered if similar cutie marks suggested a connection. We are each of us reborn when we die, as you know. And though it is a sin to claim to have been reborn from a particular pony in the past, it is not a sin to speculate, hm?”

“You’re suggesting that I might be reborn from a hero? From the medical pony who treated Saint Rainbow Dash?”

“Maybe. And Nurse Redheart treated all the Saints, not just Saint Rainbow. She just treated Saint Rainbow more often than the others.”

“Wow…”

“Now we’re just speculating,” Sir Steadfast said, waving his hoof. “But I for one don’t believe in too many coincidences. Emberglow, I am quite impressed with you. Not because of where you might have come from, even though it’s interesting to consider, but because of who you are now. I believe I am going to sponsor you, young lady. Is there anything else I should know about before I sign the papers that will put you in Knight Training in three years?”

This was the question Emberglow had been dreading. She glanced at the door to the small waiting area, where her father was. Her ears were splayed back against her head.

“Um… yeah. I mean, yes sir, one thing,” she began, taking in a shuddering breath.

“If you’re concerned about your father overhearing, don’t be. I’ve placed a small privacy enchantment on my office. Once the door is closed, nopony outside can hear us.”

“Sir, I’m homosexual,” Emberglow said in a quick exhale. She waited for the condemnation, the scowling or accusing eyes, but Sir Steadfast’s face remained passive.

“You don’t act on those urges?” he asked softly. She shook her head. “You’ve told your Confessor?”

“I spoke with her a bit vaguely,” Emberglow admitted. “She told me being born this way wasn’t a sin, as long as a pony didn’t act on it. I researched some meditation techniques. I use them whenever I feel tempted.”

“If you have as good a handle on this as it seems you do, then it is none of my concern. I’ll be signing the papers as soon as you leave.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t get so excited just yet. You don’t start for three years. And,” he shook a hoof at her. “I’m going to want to meet with you a few times a year, to make sure you’re still progressing towards your goals, and to see how you’re doing in med school. Besides, I need more chances to show you the glory of being a Knight Mystic. I might convince you yet,” he laughed at that last, reaching out to collect the photograph of the Saints and Nurse Redheart, and closing up the manila folder. “Now, let’s go tell your father the good news.”

“Yes sir!” Emberglow said, bouncing to her hooves. She did a little dance, tapping her hooves against the floor in her unrestrained joy. He grinned at her, and opened the door into the lobby where her father and Sir Steadfast’s squire waited.

“You have an incredible daughter, Mr. Textile. And she’s going to become a Knight. You should be quite proud of her,” he said.

Textile had stood when Sir Steadfast had entered the room, but now he was beaming, grinning from ear to ear as his daughter rushed to him.

“Dad, he said yes. He said yes!” she squealed with filly-like joy. Textile laughed as he hugged his daughter.

“Thank you, sir. You’ve no idea what this means to her, and to us.”

“She earned it, and is going to keep earning it over the next three years.” The second part came out like a command. Emberglow leaned away from her embrace with her father and nodded.

“Yes, sir!” she shouted again. Even the squire was grinning at her enthusiasm. “Thank you again, sir!”

“Good luck with the beginning of your medical schooling. I’ll have my squire send you a letter when I’d like to meet next. Good day, both of you.” It was a clear but polite dismissal. Emberglow and Textile left the office, heading back for the stairs. Emberglow was prancing.

“He wants to meet with you again?” Textile asked.

“Yep. A few times a year, he said. To make sure I’m still progressing towards my goals,” she said. Then her nose crinkled with distaste. “He also says he’s gonna try to convince me to join the Knights Mystic instead of the Knights Radiant.”

“I see what you thought of that idea,” Textile said, amused. Emberglow shook her head.

“It’s not a bad idea, and I told him I’d consider it. He was very nice, he told me I had the scholarship to be a Mystic. I’ll consider it, really. I don’t think I’ll change my mind, though.”

“You can be a stubborn little pony sometimes,” her father agreed. She eyed him, wondering if he was teasing her. After a moment of thought, Emberglow concluded that she just didn’t care. It was too good a day.

Just watching Emberglow bounce and prance on the way home made Textile feel exhausted. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to be that young and have that much energy. She insisted on a stop at their local cathedral to say a quick thank you to both Saint Rarity and Saint Twilight, but didn’t take too long to stay and pray. She wanted to get home and share the good news with her mother.

Outside the shop next door to theirs was a large wagon full of crates. Three burly earth ponies were unloading the crates while an older pony sat outside on a beautiful wooden rocking chair, giving directions. The older earth pony was tan, with a darker brown mane streaked with grey. He waved when he saw them approaching.

“Mr. Textile, hello,” he called out. His voice was a little different; Emberglow could hear he had an accent. It sounded like he was from one of the far northern Equestrian towns. “This is your daughter, yes?” He rose to his hooves with a slight groan, and walked over to shake Textile’s outstretched hoof. “I am Oak Chips. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Emberglow,” she introduced herself as she shook Oak Chips' offered hoof. “You’re just moving in?”

“Yes, my things finally arrived. I would help, but my doctor says no. Bad back. Psht, what does that quack know? I was lifting boxes before he was out of diapers! And foals and grandfoals, too! Doctors!” He made the word a curse, and Emberglow was worried for a moment.

“Emberglow here is about to start medical school next week,” Textile said gently. The shift in gears was as obvious as it was fast.

“And you will be the best one alive!” the old pony declared, thumping a hoof against the street. “HEY! MOVER PONY! THAT BOX IS BEDROOM, NOT STOREFRONT! READ LABEL!” He sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hoof. “They are good boys. Don’t dent any of my furniture, work hard, very helpful, yes? Only dumb some of the time.” That last was said so the mover pony in question could hear; he just rolled his eyes and kept moving boxes into the store. “So, doctor? You are young, too little for medical school. Ah, but your father says you are a genius. So that makes sense.”

“I’m not actually gonna become a regular doctor. I just got accepted for a Knight sponsorship when I’m done with med school! I’m gonna join the Knights Radiant!” Emberglow said, bouncing from hoof to hoof.

“Just today?” Oak Chips asked. Emberglow nodded. “Wait here.” The old pony retreated into his shop. Emberglow looked at her father quizzically, but Textile shrugged. He reemerged a few moments later with a small box.

“I know you are not a foal, so think of them not as toys, but as good luck charm, yes? Or paperweights.” He held the box out to Emberglow, and she took it, curiously opening the lid.

Inside, packed in padding, were two carved wooden pony figurines. Both of them were lavishly detailed, though unpainted. Emberglow could see the care and detail that went into the manes, tails, and faces of each of the figures. One of the two was a pegasus, wearing Knight Armor. The other was a unicorn.

“Because a hero needs a villain to fight, yes?” Oak Chips said when Emberglow looked at the unicorn figurine questioningly. That made sense. “You can paint them if you like. Or leave them as is. I always liked how the wood grain looks in my carvings.” Indeed, Oak Chips had selected blocks of wood for these figurines specifically to make use of the multi-colored wood grain within each block. It was beautiful; Emberglow didn’t think she could bear to paint either one of them. She was about to refuse politely; not that she didn’t appreciate the gift, but she could tell that hours of work had gone into each hoof-carved figure. There was a stern, unyielding sort of look in Oak Chips eyes when she opened her mouth to speak, however, so she changed what she was going to say. It was as if the older stallion had read her mind.

“Thank you so much. They’re gorgeous; you carved them?”

“Psht, it’s nothing. I’m retired, I love to carve. If I sell, I sell. If I don’t sell, I have savings,” Oak Chips said with an uncaring hoof wave. “I retired two years ago, and I nearly died of boredom. So, silly carving shop. It’s nothing,” he repeated.

“Well, thank you so much,” she said. “It’s very kind of you.”

“Bah. Now you go tell your mother your news. Unless you want to haul boxes?”

“We’re just about done here, Mr. Oak Chips,” one of the mover ponies chimed in.

“Yeah, we better get home,” Emberglow said. “But I can come by later to help you unpack…” She felt like she had to repay him for his gift.

“You are a smart and kind young filly. No, I will unpack. I am very particular. Spend the day celebrating with your mother. I will see you around,” Oak Chips said. He sat back down in the wooden chair. “Do come by to visit whenever you like. YOU THERE! BOX IS BREAKING! CAREFUL OR TOOLS WILL FALL OUT AND SQUASH YOUR HOOF! AND BREAK TOOLS! GAH!”

With a look at her father and a nervous little giggle, Emberglow left the old stallion to his packing, walking the few feet to the front door of their shop. The tinkle of the bell hung above the door sounded like home.

“Mom, I did it! He said yes! I’m gonna be a Knight!” she shouted out as soon as she opened the door. Only belatedly did she realize her mother was helping a customer. “Oops. Sorry, uh…”

The mare at the counter was being rung up by Needle Point. There was a brown sack sitting on the counter next to her, and a stack of bits she was counting. She looked over to the door, and Emberglow recognized the mare as Ms. Lavish Essence, the middle aged perfume seller who owned a shop six doors down, across the street.

“A Knight, miss Emberglow? Congratulations!” Lavish said, her voice interested. Emberglow tried not to roll her eyes; she had just blurted her big news to the neighborhood’s biggest gossip. “We haven’t had a Knight from Emerald Street since Sweethoof joined the Jubilant twenty five years ago! The girls are going to want to hear about this! You’ll be the talk of the street, young miss!”

“Well, I don’t start training yet, not for three years,” Emberglow said bashfully, rubbing one hoof against the other, her ears back.

“Doesn’t matter, this is wonderful news. I can’t wait to tell everybody! Well done, Textile and Needle Point. And well done Emberglow!” The older mare finished counting out her bits, passing the coins over to Needle Point and rushing out of the shop. Emberglow blushed at the raised eyebrows her mother was giving her.

“Any public embarrassment and fawning over you get from this is your own fault, missy. Impulse control is never a bad thing,” Needle Point teased, grinning. “So he said yes?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes!” Emberglow said, bouncing on her hooves. “He said yes!”

“Of course he did,” Needle Point said, her voice clear that there was never any doubt, at least for her. Emberglow knew enough about her mother to know that she was good enough to hide her doubts when she needed to. The thought brought up a dark memory, of the conversation she had overheard a few weeks ago.

“Mom? Are you okay?” Emberglow asked, seriously.

“Of course I’m okay! This is the best day ever!” Needle Point said, her voice breezy. “We have to celebrate. Textile, head down to the Dee Lights Bakery and get us some celebration food, it’s clearly cupcake time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Textile said smartly, with a silly little military-esque salute.

“I’ve just gotta put something away in my room, then I’ll be back down to help you with the shop, mom,” Emberglow said as she heard the tinkle of the bells at the front door, announcing her father’s departure. Her mother nodded, and Emberglow rushed up the stairs to her bedroom.

Emberglow’s room was tiny, but just enough for her. The door opened (just barely) and her father had installed several wall shelves to house Emberglow’s extensive book collection, because there was no room for a real bookshelf. Most of the books were nonfiction; medical texts for her level of education, advanced textbooks from her last biology classes, that sort of thing. There were a few silly foal books; mostly ones about various heroic Knights and their exploits. Then there was Emberglow’s personal copy of the Book of the Saints, with her name engraved on the bottom right cover in gold leaf. She could see the faded gold leaf at the edge of the pages, worn thinner and thinner over years of reading. It was obvious which section got the most attention; the leaf was faded to nothing nearest the section of the Book that told stories of Saint Rarity’s life; her charity work in trying to clothe the world, her efforts to be a mother to all around her, even some of her adventures with the other five saints. She was proud of all her books, but especially of that one. Next to it on the shelf she placed her new figurines; the pegasus knight and the unicorn.

“I know he said you were the villain. But I can’t help but feel a little sorry for you,” she said to the carved wood. “I’ll call you Lucky Break. Don’t tell anypony, brother,” she laughed a little at her own silliness. “I love you.”

Chapter 3

1109 AF, New Canterlot City

“Jogging again? You are silly mare,” came a gruff accented voice from behind Emberglow as she stretched just outside her parent’s shop.

“Awake again? You are silly old stallion,” Emberglow mimicked Oak Chips’ accent and smiled, turning to see the old pony sitting in his rocking chair outside his shop. Oak Chips was already hard at work, turning a toaster sized chunk of wood into… something. It looked vaguely canine to Emberglow.

“Bah. When you get older, sleep is harder to find. You should know that, doctor pony. Also, why jogging? Did you forget you have wings?”

“Pegasus ponies have to live in an earth pony world. Besides, I’m not a doctor yet,” Emberglow protested, stretching her wings carefully, one at a time.

“A little bird told me you were graduating today,” Oak Chips said.

“Mom?”

“Yes, she did tell me, about four hours after Ms. Lavish came by with the news.” Oak Chips chuckled. “That mare. If she’s not gossiping she’s busy-bodying. Thinks its ‘improper’ for me to be without a wife. What do I want another wife for? One was good enough.”

“Who’d she try to set you up with this time?” Emberglow asked her friend. Oak Chips snorted.

“Her aunt. Nice enough pony, but I am not lonely. I have friends. Good neighbors. Even a silly mare that thinks four thirty AM is good jogging time that says ‘hi’ to me. Don’t need another wife.”

“You old grump. You and I both know you wake up early just so you can tease me for jogging,” Emberglow said. Oak Chips rolled his eyes, gently scraping his knife over the soft wood. “What are you making?”

“Timberwolf. There aren’t any left, only in stories. Like a wolf, but made out of wood. Had a taste for ponies,” Oak Chips said, a little too gleefully, snapping his jaws. “Saint Applejack used to kick them. BAM! Timberwolf would explode, sticks flying everywhere. Only sticks would reform into a timberwolf, and the wolf would run away, until it forgot how much it hurt to get kicked by Saint Applejack. Then it would come back, just in time for… BAM!” He slammed a hoof against the street for emphasis, laughing.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be great when you’re done. See you when I get back!” she called out, taking off down the street. Oak Chips waved to her, his eyes never leaving his work, though she could see his ears following her movement.

It had been three years since he had first moved in next door to her parents, and they had become fast friends. It was an odd relationship to be sure; she was barely fifteen, and he was a retiree. But Emberglow loved to hear the stories of Oak Chips’ life; growing up in Stalliongrad, getting married to the love of his life, his successful carpentry work, their two foals, seven grandfoals, and even his wife Yellowjacket dying of cancer, just five years before he retired. Oak Chips had a way of making even the most mundane story interesting, at least to Emberglow’s mind. It also helped that she had someone to speak with on her morning jogs; starting last year Textile’s joints had started misbehaving, and the family doctor had told him he shouldn’t jog any longer. She missed her father on their morning expeditions, but she still loved to run. It was now a time of solitude for her, and meditation. Her life was about to change dramatically.

Emberglow set off on a taxing pace, running down the road in the early morning starlight. The moon was full, bathing the empty street in silvery light, and the cool air, yet untouched by the sun, blew pleasantly over her fur. There were a few lights in second and third story rooms, but no shops were open. A few ponies in windows waved to Emberglow as she ran past; the entire neighborhood knew about her early morning exercise habits, and though she received a fair amount of ribbing about it, she could tell that the entire neighborhood was proud of her. Like Lavish Essence had told her once, Emerald Street saw her as a mascot at this point; a pony with dreams and ambitions that they could all share, by proxy. She wasn’t a noble pony, so her upcoming Knight training was rare.

She ran past shops and store fronts, her thoughts churning. It was her last day as a med student. Tomorrow she would be a graduate. She was young, but she knew that if tomorrow she wanted to walk into a hospital, or a doctor’s office, she would be accepted as an intern, to begin her practical training as a doctor. She would have a fine career, making many times more bits than her parents. She could even settle down, and make a family… well, that was less possible.

One of her confessors, back when she had first realized who she was, and who she was attracted to, had suggested that there were ways to ‘cure’ homosexuality. It didn’t seem likely to her; the Saints had made her this way, after all. It was a test, a trial she had to overcome, and not something that could be ‘cured’. Besides, a family and foals were not her future. Nor was a doctor’s coat, a family practice, or even a hospital. Emberglow was destined for greater things, and she knew it.

Just as she’d promised, Emberglow had kept meeting with Sir Steadfast. The older Knight had been a mentor to her, giving suggestions to her exercise program, and even serving as a pressure valve when medical school had turned out to be more difficult than she had imagined. His constant support, and that of her parents, had been invaluable. There had been pride in his eyes last week when she had personally hoof-delivered the announcement of her graduation to his office, at the inquisition building.

Textile and Needle Point, obviously, were beside themselves with worry. During her medical training, she had lived at home. Though it had been a bit of a trial not to have Emberglow helping in the store as much, her parents had managed just fine. With Knight training, however, she would be moving out of the house and staying at the same dorms with all of the other pages. It would be the first time Emberglow had been out of her home for any significant length of time, and it would last for eighteen months. Pages still had one weekend free every month, and she had promised them she would come home every single time, but that didn’t help the sense of dread, or the fear of separation, that cast shade over her excitement to be moving on with her goals.

She breathed slowly, bringing her thoughts back to the present. It was still intensely quiet, the staccato beats of her hooves against the paved street the only noise in the otherwise deserted section of her jog. Emberglow reveled in the solitude; she felt absolutely comfortable accompanied only by the sound of her own hoofsteps echoing off of the still-dark buildings around her.

Her route would soon take her into the Everfree district, where the air was full of sounds of birds and insects. She still favored the Everfree Cathedral over her local one; especially when it was dark and quiet, like now. Three years of grueling medical school, filled mostly with ponies who were at least four years older than her, had done nothing to help Emberglow make friends her own age. She preferred it that way; she was friends with Oak Chips, and with her parents, she supposed, but she didn’t feel like she needed much more than that. She guessed that made her a bit of an introvert.

The Everfree Cathedral was empty of ponies, as she had suspected. The gardeners had put out fresh birdseed, though, so several of the local avian population were flitting about, chattering at each other as only early morning birds did. Several of them complained loudly at her arrival, but soon went back to their own gossip as they made liberal use of the offerings spread throughout the outside of the open air structure. There were even a few birds that had landed on the statue of Saint Fluttershy, though Emberglow couldn’t understand why; there was no birdseed on the statue, only the usual white cloth draped over her eyes to hide her from the shame of her children.

The story was a sad one, and something that had always awakened a sort of pitying fascination in Emberglow. Saint Fluttershy had once had her own Holy Order — the Knights Angelic. But three centuries ago, the entire Order stood up and abandoned New Canterlot City, vowing to bring the entire Holy Equestrian Diarchy to its knees. The former Holy Order now called itself the Knights Discordant.

To this day, nopony knew why they had done it. There had been no lead up, no warning, and no apparent reason. There were rumors of a shadowy figure involved, somepony known only as the ‘Arch Heretic’, who supposedly had orchestrated the entire fall, but nopony knew anything about him, or what his motivations were, or if he even existed at all. Ever since that day, however, statues of Saint Fluttershy had had their faces covered by a gentle white cloth, so the blessed Saint wouldn’t have to witness the shame of her children’s betrayal. Emberglow had never seen the eyes of a Saint Fluttershy statue; she imagined the stone gaze would be somehow full of warmth and acceptance.

Emberglow came to a stop, as usual, right in front of Saint Rarity. She offered her prayers to her favored saint, then moved on to each of the others in turn. This was a morning ritual for her; a quiet moment of solitude before she threw herself into her studies. She wouldn’t find much time for quiet in the dorms she’d be living in. When she was done, she returned to the same path that, years ago, she and her father had run into Lady Ruby Berry on.

Emberglow managed to do four miles in the time it used to take her to do one, as a younger foal. She was quite proud of herself; she was already running as far as Squires were required to, and she wasn’t even a page yet. When she was done with her four miles, tired and sweaty but feeling good, she cooled down with a gentle trot home.

Her return trip took her down her home street, now with a few more lights on in the shops and houses as ponies began to wake for the morning. Oak Chips was inside his shop when Emberglow passed by, but the two ponies waved at each other through the window before Emberglow continued on to her parent’s shop. She pushed the door open with one hoof and inhaled deeply, breathing in the welcome scent of fresh coffee and baking cinnamon.

“I’m home!” she called out.

“Hi, honey! We altered your dress for your graduation ceremony!” Her mother’s voice came from upstairs. “It’s all ready for you, dear. Just shower and have some breakfast. Your father made cinnamon rolls.”

“Yay!” Emberglow cried back, rushing up the stairs to the bathroom. A quick shower and a hop back to the middle floor and she was in the kitchen with her parents, sipping on her coffee (black, no sugar or cream; the way REAL ponies drink coffee) and munching her father’s cinnamon roll. Her parents were happily chatting away about the graduation ceremony that would begin in just a few hours. Emberglow knew they were proud; it shone through their every word and action. She was happy that they were happy, but it didn’t seem like a huge deal for her, just another check mark in her ultimate list. Maybe it would be more real when she was up on stage, accepting the diploma. She swallowed her bite of pastry and washed it down with a sip of coffee, looking at her parent’s beaming faces as a worrisome thought crossed her mind.

“Um, Dad? Mom?” she began hesitantly. Her parents, ever attuned to her moods, immediately stopped what they were doing and focused on her. “Um, are you both going to be okay?” She cringed; her words were failing her. “I mean, I’ve never been gone for more than a day. I’m not going to be at home any more, and that means you’ll be by yourselves, in the shop alone, and there’s so much to do and…” she was rambling, her concerns spilling out of her lips without filter. Needle Point was shaking her head, and Textile rolled his eyes.

“Emberglow,” he said firmly. “How many times have we had this same conversation? Or some variant?”

“Um…” Emberglow floundered.

“Needle?” Textile turned to his wife. “What’s the count to now?”

“Nine, I think,” Needle Point said with a soft smile. Emberglow’s eyes narrowed.

“I only remember two,” she muttered. Her parents laughed.

“We’re counting all the times while you were studying medicine as well, dear,” Needle Point explained. “Every couple of months you…” she paused, as if searching for the right word “...become rather anxious about whether or not we’ll be able to cope without you. Emberglow, we’ve had several years to grow used to the idea. Of course we’re worried. Of course we’ll miss you. We love you so much. And part of that love means we’ll be proud as peacocks when you spread your wings and fly out of our little nest, okay?”

“Okay,” Emberglow murmured, blushing. She did remember now; it was the same freak out every few months, almost like on a schedule. “But…”

“No,” her father interrupted. “Today’s a day for celebration, not worry. Eat another cinnamon roll. You can’t worry yourself silly if you’re eating a cinnamon roll.” He held one up before her muzzle. Emberglow rolled her eyes, but took the pastry anyways; he was right, after all, about all of it. She let her father’s cooking and both her parents’ loving assurances calm her worries about moving out.

After breakfast, the small family left a sign at the front door and locked up for the day. The chalkboard placard read ‘Closed for the day because OUR DAUGHTER’S GRADUATING FROM MEDICAL SCHOOL!’ with a frankly embarrassing number of exclamation points, and a few crudely drawn smiling pony faces that were supposed to represent the three of them. They all left for the ceremony, which was being held at the Central Cathedral down near the middle of the city.

The Central Cathedral was huge, far larger than any others. The exterior’s vast walls of white stone were covered in frescoes of the most heroic martial achievements of the six saints. There was Saint Twilight, with her freshly earned wings, facing off against the centaur tyrant Tirek. Another had Saint Rainbow, armed with a spear and shield, casting the bandit queen Gilda the Griffon out of Equestria; still another had Saint Fluttershy binding the God of Chaos in chains. Emberglow’s favorite was Saint Rarity singlehoofedly defending herself against an army of nameless, bipedal canine horrors. For today’s special ceremony, the exterior walls had been decorated with violet banners announcing the occasion.

Inside, the cheerful cacophony of happy graduates and their families echoed through the cathedral. The interior was mostly a wide empty space that extended far above the ponies’ heads. The cathedral had been built in a time when most buildings hadn’t had any sort of electric lighting, so all the light was natural, provided by huge windows on the sides of the building, as well as skylights in the roof far up above. Streams of sunlight from the skylights drew Emberglow’s eyes to the centerpiece of the cathedral, the statues of the six Saints. The statues were huge, so much larger than those in the Everfree Cathedral. Each one was easily ten times the size of a pony; the cloth that covered Saint Fluttershy’s face was larger than a king size quilt.

Today, a dozen temporary benches had been set up to make room for all the spectators coming to watch Emberglow and her classmates accept their diplomas. The half-circle benches, always in place for the worship of supplicants, were reserved for the graduates themselves.

Emberglow gave her parents a quick goodbye and a nuzzle each before finding her own seat within the half-circle benches. All around her, graduates clustered in small groups, chatting, giggling, and greeting friends. Emberglow sat by herself, comfortable in her solitude.

The speeches were predictable, and that made Emberglow smile. ‘Chase your dreams, be the best you can be, represent your Alma Mater’, and so on. Emberglow only half listened, a bit bored as she waited for her part in the ceremony. Her gaze drifted over all of the other ponies around hers. Each one of them was going on to an internship with an experienced doctor. Her idle mind wandered a bit as she wondered about their futures: working in hospitals, in family practice, in emergency medicine, or maybe even in military medical service. They were all paths she could have trod, if this were the limit of her ambition.

Most of the ponies around her, even though they were much older, were also shifting in their seats, adjusting their clothing, or fidgeting with the graduation ceremony’s paper program. Eventually the school president moved on to announcing specific honors earned by various students. Before long, it was her turn.

“This year, we have a graduate who has broken a very unique record at our school. Today we recognize Emberglow, the very youngest medical school graduate we have ever hosted in our halls.” The old stallion’s eyes sought out a widely grinning Emberglow in the crowd of graduates, and he motioned with his hoof. “Congratulations, young pony. You will do us all proud as you move on to the next stage of your life, which I understand is the Ivy Seminary and Knighthood.”

Finally it was time to walk across the stage. Her name was called, and she stepped up onto a stage lit by bright spotlights. Squinting a bit in the direct light, she trotted up towards the lines of robed ponies smiling at her and holding out their hooves to shake. The school president, several instructors, and even some local dignitaries all offered whispered well-wishes. Despite her earlier boredom, Emberglow found herself smiling so hard her cheeks were nearly sore. When she reached the school president in the hoof-shaking line, he lifted a polished medallion, looped with red velvet. It bore the asklepian, the image of a single snake curled around a rod, an ancient symbol of medicine that predated even the founding of the Diarchy.

As the school president slipped the medallion around her neck, she heard raucous cheering from a dozen or so ponies in the audience. She looked over and saw her parents, Oak Chips, and a hoof full of ponies from the neighborhood gathered to cheer her on. She also saw Sir Steadfast sitting there, though with a slightly more subdued smile on his face. With a swell of pride, she waved and grinned at them all. Emberglow felt like her name, practically glowing with pride.

“Ponies, look at your medallions,” the school president spoke again, after everypony had taken their seats. “Notice the construction. The velvet ribbon is violet, the color of our dear Saint Rarity, the bringer of healing and medicine. The outside of the medallion polished surgical steel, while the inside is heavy pewter. Look and remember the weight of your responsibility, and the bright, shining future in medicine that awaits you.”

Afterwards the small family gathered outside, and several neighbors clustered around her to offer congratulations and well wishes. Sir Steadfast shook her hoof before begging their pardon to return to his Knight business. Oak Chips pulled an ancient looking camera out of a battered velveteen case and insisted on taking the family’s photograph. This was a new experience for the family; cameras were too expensive for everyday ponies to own.

“I’ll bring the photo over to you as soon as I get it developed,” Oak Chips promised, before leaving himself, letting Emberglow and her parents share some time together by themselves. They walked slowly, not minding the extra time as Emberglow’s parents heaped praises on their daughter.

Her parents continued to gush over her graduation as the three of them made their way home. Emberglow accepted their attention with as much embarrassed grace as she could. As they passed in front of the Hall of the Upright, the headquarters of the Knights Vigilant, their joyous family moment was interrupted by the commotion of a crowd. They very nearly ignored it and continued on their way; the big city was always experiencing some sort of commotion or event. All three ponies froze, however, when a sudden scream of pain broke over the sound of the crowd.

The plaza directly in front of the austere stone-façade building was usually reserved for public punishment of lawbreakers, and today was no exception. A crowd was already gathering around a half dozen Knights Vigilant wearing their full, polished orange armor with the sign of Saint Applejack on the flank, standing guard over four ponies in brown robes. The ponies were bound with chains at all four hooves, connected by a shorter chain, and another oppressive iron collar around each of their necks. One of the four was on the ground, whimpering in pain as a stern-looking Vigilant stood over her, holding a truncheon.

One by one, the prisoners, three mares and a stallion, were dragged to a collection of wooden pillory that sat in front of the Hall of the Upright. Each pony wore a rough, uncomfortable looking brown robe and a placard announcing their crime. When the first mare reached the pillory, she was unlocked from her chains and shoved, unresisting, into one of the pillory.

“Prisoner Harpsichord. You have pled guilty to fraud. Your sentence is four days in the pillory; after which you will be released and banished from New Canterlot City.” The Knight slammed down the heavy wooden top piece, locking the mare’s head and forehooves into an uncomfortable bent position. Her head was hung in shame, and her eyes were closed. The second prisoner was dragged into place.

“Prisoner Rosepetal. You have been found guilty of homosexual acts. Your sentence is one week in the pillory, after which you will be whipped with twenty lashes, then banished from New Canterlot City.” The mare nodded once right before being locked into the pillory herself. Emberglow could see the tears on her cheeks. The third mare was not nearly as cooperative, as two Knights had to drag her to the pillory. Her muffled screams of rage filtered through the muzzle the Knights had placed on her.

“Prisoner Nine Leaves. You have been found guilty of heresy, and acts of depravity with a non-pony creature. Your sentence is one day in the pillory, after which you will be put to death.” This was the mare who had screamed; there was more than one bruise showing the results of her resistance. She wouldn’t submit to have her head shoved into the pillory; it took two of the Knights holding her in place, and another grabbing her cruelly by the mane and dragging her head down so they could enclose her into the torture device. Finally the fourth prisoner, the stallion, was brought forward to the pillory.

“Prisoner Grey Gull. You have confessed to homosexual acts. Your sentence is four days in the pillory, after which you will be whipped with fifteen lashes.” Unlike the prisoner before him, Grey Gull allowed the Knights to place him in the pillory. With a loud thump, the final pillory closed around the prisoner, and some of the observing crowd began to disperse.

Emberglow was horrified, and riveted in place. Nothing else could have killed her mood so effectively. Her parents, who had also stopped, shook their heads silently as Needle Point motioned for the family to go on their way. The mood was somber.

“Why do ponies do that?” Emberglow asked softly, after walking in silence for a while. Her mother looked at her in surprise, then sighed. “I mean, why can’t ponies just…” she trailed off, frustrated. There was no way she could put her real questions to words. Not in front of her parents, at least.

“I don’t know, sweetie.”

“If we could all just listen to the Saints,” Emberglow mused, “none of this would ever happen.”

“Remember the Saints gave us choice, sweetie. A choice doesn’t mean anything if it’s forced; temptation and sin exists so that we can choose not to indulge,” her mom responded. “Those ponies made poor choices.”

“But some ponies are born homosexual, right?” Emberglow asked carefully. “At least, that’s what the confessors say. Are they basically cursed to be sinners? Where’s their choice?”

“Only the Saints know all the answers, Emberglow. But ponies always have the choice to act, even if they are born one way or another. And it’s the choice that is either righteous or sinful.”

“Right…” Emberglow whispered. She took a deep breath, trying to force her mind away from her thoughts. “Let’s… let’s talk about something else. I don’t wanna think about it right now.”

“Me neither,” Textile agreed, with a somewhat strained, upbeat tone. “I’d rather be talking about you and your graduation anyways. Leave the theology to the Knights and confessors.”

“We have to have a party tonight, a huge one,” Needle Point said, taking the subject change and running with it. “After all, soon you’ll be living in the page’s dorms, and we’ll only see you once a month. We have to really make the most of it; live it up while we still have you to spoil!”

“Mom, really…” Emberglow said, both embarrassed and pleased. The conversation still weighed on her mind, and she could tell it was on her parents’ as well, but she could pretend if they could. “I don’t need a huge party. Besides, it’s Wednesday night. We have to attend Liturgy.”

“Psht. I’ll be the laughingstock of the neighborhood if I don’t throw you something big. Everypony on the street’s probably going to stop by tonight after services at the cathedral. You’re famous.”

“You know, in a one-block radius,” Textile teased, and Emberglow laughed. She could set aside her spiritual questions for at least one night. It wasn’t every day that she got to be a local celebrity, after all.

Every Wednesday evening was the Liturgy, in which every pony would gather to one of the nearest cathedrals as an act of public worship. It was not optional; refusing to attend would result in fines, and possibly investigations into the reasoning behind a pony’s absence. Injured, sick, or aged ponies could of course be given a doctor’s note for absence, and there were certain other exceptions as well, such as emergency response ponies like firefighters and EMTs.

Like all of the other good ponies of the Diarchy, Emberglow’s family attended Liturgy at their local cathedral. Though she preferred personal worship at the Everfree building, attendance was taken at the Wednesday meeting so she had to go to their nearest building, a stale structure when compared to her favorite green, garden themed place of worship. You needed a special dispensation to attend a cathedral for Liturgy other than the one you were assigned, after all, and nopony was issued a dispensation just because they liked the décor at the next cathedral over a little better.

Everypony always wore their best to Liturgy; confessors often taught that it was a sign of respect and reverence for the Saints. Usually that meant changing into her birthday dress, but Emberglow had already worn that for her graduation, so she didn’t have to change. The family shared a quick snack of oatmeal with dried strawberries before heading off to the cathedral.

All of their neighbors were leaving at around the same time, and several of the ponies that lived and worked near Emberglow’s parents’ shop came by to offer their congratulations to the young graduate. Dozens of colorful ponies, all dressed in their Liturgy best, were chatting and greeting each other on their way to the cathedral.

The local building was practical, at least, if not decorative. Most cathedrals in New Canterlot City were at least a little rote in their architecture; as neighborhoods had expanded, the confessors had become more interested in filling the needs of growing populations than in making unique and decorative cathedrals. It was constructed of brick and mortar, with a yellow shingle roof. Every time she saw it, Emberglow was reminded how much more she enjoyed the Everfree cathedral over this cookie-cutter structure. It felt antiseptic to her.

The senior confessor assigned to Ward 14 of the Merchant’s walk was June Leaves, an ancient earth pony mare who liked to stand at the open door of her cathedral and greet each pony by name as they entered. There was a twinkle in the mare’s green, wrinkled face as Emberglow and her family approached.

“Congratulations, young lady,” the confessor said, reaching out to ruffle Emberglow’s red mane. “We’re all so proud of you.” She reached out and shook hooves with Emberglow’s parents. “Textile, Needle Point, congratulations to you two as well. Welcome.”

The family made their way into the cathedral and found a spot among the half-circle benches that sat in the center. Emberglow’s eyes were drawn to the dark purple cloth draped over Saint Fluttershy’s eyes, before sitting on her padded bench to wait for June Leaves’ sermon. As ponies shuffled into the seats around them, Emberglow saw the confessor make her way to the front of the room, underneath the gaze of the stone Saints. She winked at Emberglow before clearing her throat, signaling silence to her congregation. Two of the younger confessors, seated on benches behind June Leaves, rose to roll over the mobile podium that the older confessor mare used to lean against and organize her notes while she gave her speech. A large print edition of the Book of the Saints, particularly suited for older eyes such as June Leaves’, had been opened beforehand to a passage somewhere in the middle of the book. June Leaves stood silently as the murmurs of the congregation slowed from roar to a hushed smattering of whispers. As soon as she knew her voice would carry over the congregation, June Leaves opened her mouth.

“Tonight I’m going to talk to you about a tightrope act,” June Leaves began, her voice deceptively strong for her advanced age. “I’m sure many ponies here have seen acrobats walking a tightrope. It’s pretty impressive, isn’t it? Especially if they’re really high up without a net. Especially for those of us without wings.” She waggled a hoof in Emberglow’s direction with a grin, and the audience chuckled a bit. Emberglow knew she was one of only about ten or so pegasi in the entire congregation of a hundred. “It must take an incredible amount of training, skill, and luck to remain upright on one of those ropes. Imagine the courage. Imagine the risk. I’m afraid of heights, I know a lot of other earth ponies are too. I hate airships.” More laughter rose from the audience.

“But I want to talk about another kind of tightrope walk. A kind of walk we trot down nearly every day of our lives. And while a fall off of this tightrope might not kill you, its consequences may be even more dire. Tonight, we’re going to talk about pride.

“What would you ponies say pride is? A sense of pleasure, or satisfaction in our own accomplishments, or the accomplishments of others? Maybe a sense of rightness, feelings of justification in the correctness of one’s beliefs or actions? Or maybe it’s a sin. Perhaps the most grievous sin of all.

“I believe it is all of these things, and that is why pride is a tightrope walk. You see, there isn’t anything wrong with being proud of our victories, our successes, or triumphs, is there?” June Leaves paused for a moment, waiting for her parishioners to think over her rhetorical question. “But pride doesn’t limit itself to our justly earned success. Pride is a cliff. A canyon. It can so easily separate us from the love of the Saints, if we let it.

“You see, when we feel pride, we feel full of ourselves. We feel right, we feel entitled, and we can feel like our way is maybe even better than the Saints’ ways. ‘Why should I read from the Book of the Saints? I know better than some old ponies dead for centuries,’ you might say. When we question, even subconsciously, the will of the Saints in our lives, when we allow our own opinions or thoughts to supplant what is written in holy word, our lives and our destinies spiral out of control. This is when pride damns us. Pride is enmity, a gulf that drags us away from the love of the Diarchs and their true servants, the Six.

“Does this mean that it is sinful to feel pride in what we have accomplished? When we have overcome great obstacles, climbed great mountains both literal and metaphorical, can we not stop to take pleasure in our victory? My little ponies, this is the tightrope we must walk. There is a way to take joy in our wins. It is through our gratitude and worship of the Saints.”

Emberglow couldn’t take her eyes off of June Leaves. There was a cadence and rhythm to her voice that sucked in her listeners, and the young mare was no exception. There were a few moments in the sermon, though, when Emberglow knew the Confessor was speaking directly to her. It wasn’t really that subtle; June Leaves had clearly had the young student’s recent graduation in mind when she had written her sermon. But she didn’t feel singled out; no, she was enraptured. Emberglow knew that the confessor was inspired. Whatever the older mare was speaking about was surely a message from the Saints directly for her.

“Ponies, you are nothing. You are worthless, you are dirt. Your accomplishments, your victories, on their own, are meaningless, lost the moment you step into the grave. Everything you have ever done, everything you have ever achieved, was a gift from the Diarchs, through the Saints themselves. Your shop is not successful because of you, it is because Saint Applejack recognized your hard work and honesty and decided to bless you. Your health isn’t a result of your diet or exercise, it’s because Saint Rarity decided to ward you from the ravages of illness. Your children aren’t well behaved and beautiful because of your brilliant parenting tactics, they are that way because Saint Twilight decided to bless them with intelligence and maturity. The second we take credit for the gifts the Saints have given us, the second we take pride in ourselves, rather than gratitude in the grace of the Saints, we have separated ourselves from them.

“And that, my little ponies, leads to a place nopony wants to be. Let’s go to the scriptures.” The large print Book of the Saints was already open at Confessor June’s pedestal, but Emberglow heard several of the other ponies in the congregation flip open their own copies of the Book of the Saints. Needle Point and Emberglow retrieved their own copies, while Textile preferred to merely listen. “Those of you following along in your own books, turn to The Word, chapter twenty, verse fifteen through seventeen.” She paused enough that everypony could hear the rustling of turning pages. “’The hooves of the Diarchs ever reach for their ponies, extended in mercy and love. The Sun in the daytime, and the Moon in the night, radiate their love. But ponies are cruel, ignorant, and hateful, and reject the freely offered gifts of the divine’.” She looked up from her book and gazed over her congregation. “Seems silly, doesn’t it? Ponies, in their arrogance, rejecting the gifts of the divine? But it happens every day. The unicorns do it with their very existence. The Northern Empire does it with their barrier. The griffons, zebra, dragons, and other non-pony races do it with their unending aggression and raids. And we do it, every day, with our sinful pride.”

The emotion of guilt, as Emberglow had been taught, was a divine gift. A force for change, for improvement. For a pony such as her, a pony who had dedicated all of her teenaged energy and effort into self-improvement and perfectionism, guilt was a constant companion. She was never quite good enough, never quite smart enough, or perfect enough, or accomplished enough. As Confessor June Leaves continued her sermon, Emberglow’s mind began to gallop in circles. It was obvious that the wise Confessor had been inspired to write her sermon by Emberglow’s graduation. Was it just convenient timing? Or were the Saints trying to send her a message? Was she becoming too proud of her own accomplishments?

That had to be the message she was receiving from the Saints. She looked up at the five uncovered faces, particularly the stern visage of Saint Twilight, and silently vowed that she wouldn’t let her own accomplishments or victories come between her and the will of the Saints. She embraced her guilt, allowing it to mold and shape her into whatever the Saints had intended. Emberglow knew that some of her hardest challenges were coming ahead, and only with the strength of the Six would she be able to overcome them, not her own talents or willpower.

Author's Notes:

I don't usually like author's notes. I probably won't include any in further chapters. But I need to put this one here.

This chapter includes some very toxic ideas and doctrine, including bigotry. I do not condone bigotry in any form, including homophobia, racism, or anything else. The fictional Diarchy in my story does not represent my personal views in any way. I do not condone or associate with any organization that teaches hate.

If you have experienced hate or bigotry in any form, please know that I love you, and I accept you. I am so sorry for the hurt you have experienced, and I hope that things will get better.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 4

Document found in the Knights Mystic archives, dated 133 AF. Contents secret; access without permission to be considered heresy.

I write this today with full knowledge that nopony besides the pontiffs that follow me will ever read my hidden journal. This is fine; I write this at the wishes of my great grandmother. My name is Faith Unrelenting, and I am the third pontiff of the Holy Equestrian Diarchy. This record will be written and sealed, per my orders, in the deepest vault of the Diarchy. My journal shall be available to all pontiffs, and any pony they deem fit for this information, until the end of time. In it, I shall account the beginnings of the Diarchy, and various details of its history. I do this at the behest of its first Pontiff, my great grandmother. She even told me to write this introduction. “One day,” she said, “Somepony is going to need to read this.” Though she was perhaps unnecessarily vague, I do as she asked.

My great grandmother, the First Pontiff, erased her name from history when she first ascended to her role. Though she had contemporaries who remembered her name, she refused to allow it to be written down in any official Diarchy communication or history. To this day, the Diarchy’s naysayers and detractors still remember her name, but as the Diarchy fills the earth, the First Pontiff’s true identity will fade from memory. She did this, in her own words, to ‘ensure that it is my work, not my identity, which is glorified. Let them remember the holy things I set in motion, not who I am.’ In another two hundred years, nopony will remember her name, but for eternity we will remember her deeds. Her last missive to me, however, contained the instructions to make this journal, and share it with my successor. At the very least future Pontiffs will know the holy name of our founder, Cozy Glow.

1109 AF, Ivy Seminary, New Canterlot City

The laundry room of the pages’ dormitory was made of unfinished concrete floors, with unpainted drywall ceilings. The smell of detergent and faint mildew permeated the room, the seemingly permanent odor having been built up over the years. Generations of pages, training for Knighthood, had washed their uniforms and bedding in this very room.

This fact failed to be very impressive for Emberglow, though — she was currently more impressed with the size of the basement sink, and its efficient water pressure. It had been very useful for pre-washing whatever foul substance had been dumped into Emberglow’s sheets once (sometimes even twice or more) a week. Today’s flavor was tree sap, spread throughout her sheets — though she was lucky nothing had been dumped in her spare robe drawer this time.

The sap was nearly impossible to wash out. The hot water in the large sink, usually so helpful for mud, dirt, honey, or other foulness that had been rubbed into her sheets, was proving largely useless for the tree sap. It stuck to her hooves when she tried to scrub it, and her efforts seemed to be only spreading the substance farther.

Emberglow idly wondered at the amount of effort it would have taken to obtain this much tree sap; it seemed extreme for an immature prank. She tried to stave off the urge to give up, wondering if she should simply inform the matron in charge of the cleaning staff. There was precious little free time for pages, and it was becoming rather frustrating to have to use that free time to clean up after foalish pranks. Surely she wouldn’t be blamed for what others had done to her bedding, right?

She had long since dismissed that option from her mind, though. She didn’t want to let them win. If they knew they were getting to her, it would only get worse — Emberglow was sure of that.

She supposed she should have expected it. Sir Steadfast had warned her that there would be bullying. There were seventy nine pages at the facility, all training for Knighthood. Only six of them were there due to sponsorships; the rest were from wealthy and noble families, with long traditions of serving as Knights. Sponsorship ponies were treated as second class by the other students, less worthy than those who had been born to it.

It was fine, though. Emberglow could handle it. She was one of the best in her class, for most subjects. Physically, she was far more prepared than those noble dandies. Her mind was sharp, and her studies were progressing well. She did struggle a bit at martial arts training, but with all her other skills, nopony among the faculty seemed to mind if she had at least one weakness.

Emberglow was fairly certain who the culprits were, even if she had no proof. In the end, though, it didn’t really matter. Ponies would be jealous. It was simply a fact of life, and she had resigned herself to it. Even the other sponsorship ponies kept their distance, as her tormentors seemed to have singled her out in particular for their cruel games. To be honest, though, this suited Emberglow just fine. She had never been driven to form close friendships with those her age. After all, she still got to see her parents one weekend a month, and she would stop in to speak with Oak Chips, her friend, or Sir Steadfast, her mentor, whenever she could.

Another pony entered the laundry room, pulling her out from her thoughts. He was an earth pony stallion, with light green fur and a black mane. He was wearing the same light purple robes that she was; the robes of a page. He entered casually, glancing at her, before setting down the basket of laundry he was carrying on his back. There was a small bottle perched on top. Emberglow recognized him from several of her classes, but she couldn’t remember his name. She wasn’t sure she could remember most of her classmate’s names, actually; she supposed she’d never tried very hard. She did know he wasn’t a sponsored pony, however.

“I had a chance to casually ask one of the cleaning staff their opinion,” the stallion said airily, seemingly addressing nopony. “What is the best way to get tree sap out of cloth?” The stallion had a strong tenor voice, which was a little impressive. Many of the other stallion pages were still young enough that their voices were changing awkwardly. Emberglow looked up from her task to eye him suspiciously.

“And?” she asked warily, wondering where this was going.

“Rubbing alcohol,” he said, taking the bottle from the top of his basket. He set it on top of one of the washing machines near the sink she was using. “If it’s a huge amount, they recommend freezing it and scraping it off with a butter knife first, but if it’s spread out, they said rubbing alcohol.”

Emberglow eyed it, and the stallion, cautiously. She reached out a hoof to take hold of the bottle, but the stallion held out one of his own, sliding it away.

“Nope. We’re going to make an exchange,” he said.

Emberglow sighed, rolling her eyes. “Some sort of quid pro quo? Really? Look, if this is some sort of lame come-on, you’re wasting your time.”

The stallion laughed. It was a genuine laugh, not the fake tittering she often heard behind her back when nopony thought she was listening.

“Your name. That’s all I want,” the stallion said. “It works like this. Hi, my name is Lofty Tale.” He held out his hoof.

“Emberglow,” Emberglow said, holding out her own to shake his. Lofty Tale, eh? The Tale family was one of those noble clans that had spanned generations, full of heroes and Knights. Everypony who knew anything about history would have heard the story of Strange Tale, the Knight Adamant who had infiltrated the Free Zebra Republic to steal schematics and designs for the zebras’ devastating firearms. He was still celebrated as a hero centuries afterward. There were others as well; it was said that there had been Tales fighting for the Diarchy as far back as the Siege of Manehatten. A name like his would command a lot of influence.

“Emberglow? That’s a lovely name,” he said, sliding the bottle over to her. She accepted it with a nod.

“How did you know I would need it?” she asked, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice. He cringed a bit as he began moving his laundry into one of the nearby machines.

“I might have seen some ponies gathering the sap. I didn’t even think about what they might be using it for at the time, or I would have tried to stop them.”

“Don’t bother,” Emberglow sighed. “If not the sap, they would have found something else.” She rinsed out the sponge she had been using, and picked up the bottle of rubbing alcohol, pouring a tiny amount on the sponge. With her new tool, she vigorously attacked the sap. While it wasn’t easy, it was working, with bits of the yellow gunk dissolving and sliding off the linens.

“Would you like me to stop them next time?” he asked, his voice earnest. Emberglow paused in her efforts, thinking. If a Tale told her tormentors to stop, they probably would. Of course, then there would be assumptions, insinuations, snickered behind hooves hiding smirking mouths.

“No thank you,” she replied politely. He nodded, as if expecting the answer.

“You’re very strong, Emberglow,” he said, and she gaped at him. He smiled at her expression of surprise. She smiled back, gratefully. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure,” Emberglow said. This was all so strange, but Lofty Tale seemed nice.

“You haven’t made any friends here. Why?” he asked. Emberglow sighed. She didn’t really want to answer that question.

“I’ve never needed tons of friends,” she said. “It’s never been a real priority for me. I’m really close to my parents, and I have a few friends back home, but nopony my own age.”

“Where is home for you?” Lofty Tale asked.

“Just a few blocks from here, actually. My parents own a clothing shop on the Merchant’s Walk.”

“I’ll bet that’s really convenient for you on your weekends off,” he said.

“Well, not everypony has a carriage with servants to pull it to come take them home,” she shot back, before instantly regretting it. “I’m sorry, Lofty Tale. That was rude of me.”

But Lofty Tale was laughing. “Please, just call me Lofty. I don’t always need to be reminded about my family name; trust me, I remember what it is,” he said, laughing more.

“Is it hard? Living up to your family name?” Emberglow asked. Lofty shook his head, putting the last piece of his laundry into the washing machine and closing the door.

“Nah, my story isn’t that kind of story. Sure, my grandpa Righteous Tale likes to go on and on about ‘duty and name and family honor’ and blah blah blah, but I’ve never let it bother me much. I have to be my own stallion, right? I had to decide a long time ago if I was going to be a Knight for myself, or for my name. I picked myself.”

Emberglow decided right then that she liked him. He was confident, and knew what he wanted. Lofty reminded her of herself.

“Honestly, that’s why I wanted to seek you out, and introduce myself. You remind me of myself,” he continued, unconsciously mimicking her own thoughts. “So, you know about my silly name. Where does yours come from?”

“My parents couldn’t have foals at first,” she said. “The doctors said it might be impossible, and there was no way they could afford fertility treatments. When my mom got pregnant with me, they said it was a miracle. It was a really hard pregnancy, and she almost lost me a couple of times. When I was born, they named me Emberglow. My mom said, ‘the fires of my hope for having a foal had nearly died, leaving nothing but glowing embers in their place.’”

“That’s beautiful. Kinda poetic,” Lofty said with a nod, his eyes unfocused a bit. “So much cooler than mine. ‘Hey, let’s put all the adjectives we can think of that will work with the name ‘Tale’ in an impossibly fashionable hat then draw one at random.’”

“That can’t be how your name was really picked,” Emberglow giggled, and Lofty laughed.

“No, not really, but it makes a fun story,” he admitted through his laughter. She grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and applied more to her sponge. “ Is it working?” he asked.

“Better than water or soap, yes,” Emberglow said. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he replied. “It seemed like a good idea for a friendship ice breaker, you know? Originally I was going to try and rescue you from your bullies, but…” he trailed off. Emberglow looked at him, surprised at the frank statement. She was quiet for a moment, so he kept talking. “You don’t seem like the type that really needs rescuing.”

“Thanks, I guess?” she said. “So that’s what this is? An attempt at friendship?”

“Well, I figure you’re safe. One of the few ponies in here I can make friends with without any ulterior motives,” Lofty replied. “There’s lots of ponies here that would see friendship with me as an accomplishment, some bauble to be acquired.”

“You’re incredibly honest, you know that?” Emberglow teased. “Haven’t you ever heard of a filter?”

“I don’t think I need much of one with you. Or am I wrong?” Lofty asked.

“No, you’re not,” she responded. “So, we’re friends now?”

Lofty grinned and nodded.

“Friends that help each other scrub sap out of sheets?” Emberglow suggested.

He laughed, walking over to the sink. “Sure, as long as you’re willing to help me with our rune magic test on Friday,” Lofty shot back as he grabbed another sponge, soaking it in alcohol and grabbing another section of the sheet.

“Oh, so now who’s got ulterior motives?” Emberglow said slyly, and Lofty shrugged.

“Why not? You’re one of the best in the class. At everything.”

“Not martial arts,” Emberglow corrected.

“That’s fine. Maybe we can help each other. You practice hitting me, and I’ll practice shielding myself with runes. It’s a win-win.”

She squinted at him. “We haven’t even started practicing rune magic for real, Lofty. How can you…?”

“Oh, hush. I’m just being silly,” Lofty interrupted. “You can help me with memorizing the runes in exchange, okay?”

“Deal,” Emberglow nodded.

The two ponies laughed and talked while they scrubbed the sap out of Emberglow’s sheets. Once the task was done as well by hoof as it could possibly be, Emberglow shoved them into the washing machine next to Lofty Tale’s laundry, to be left until the day’s classes were finished. They walked together out of the basement where the laundry room was held, and across the courtyard of the campus that held the dorms, several training fields, and classrooms for the pages. The whole time Emberglow was filled with warmth; she’d been here three months, and this was the first time she’d made a friend. Lofty Tale was well spoken, intelligent, and genuine. But maybe she might have to squash those hints that he may be flirting with her, just a bit.

The instructor for their next class, Diarchy History, was Sir Heavenseeker, an elderly pegasus who’d lost one of his wings decades ago in combat with some dragons. Emberglow loved him; he was brilliant and passionate, and his lectures were always interesting. His teaching style involved giving lectures and then asking thoughtful questions, and he had no problem letting a class stew in awkward silence as they tried to piece together what he was trying to teach them by the questions he was asking. Emberglow really enjoyed that style of class. There were no assigned seats; Emberglow usually found a desk near the front of the class. This time she actually had a friend right next to her, and it filled her with unfamiliar and unexpected warmth.

“Today, we’re going to be talking about heresy,” Sir Heavenseeker pronounced, as soon as everypony was seated. This was not unusual; many of the significant events in Diarchy History revolved around fighting against various heretics and heresies. “Specifically, the three Great Heretics, and what lessons they teach us. Diarchy doctrine is a living thing; the more enlightened we become, the more we learn about the Saints and what they desire of us. And while the three Great Heresies were some of the most terrible tragedies in our history, they are also some of the greatest learning opportunities. Let’s start with the First Heretic. Somepony summarize him for us, and what he did.”

Several hooves shot into the air, including Emberglow’s. Sir Heavenseeker pointed at an earth pony in the back of the classroom. She stood to give her answer.

“The first heretic was Sombra, a unicorn who gave into his rage and jealousy and used his dark magic to attack the Northern Empire. He was defeated by the six Saints, only to reemerge years later and corrupt the entire Empire. That the Empire is now not a part of the Diarchy is directly the fault of Sombra and his actions.”

“Thank you, Green Fields. Yes, that’s the short version of Sombra’s wickedness. So what did we learn from the first heresy? Don’t worry, there’s not really wrong answers. Call some out.”

“Unicorns are dangerous!”

“Unicorns are corruptible; they can’t be trusted with power!”

“Unicorns use violence and death to accomplish their goals!”

“All of those things are true, but there’s a deeper lesson here. Let me share with you a detail little-known outside of the Knighthood. In the second war against Sombra, were you aware that there were unicorns fighting alongside the Saints?” He paused a moment, taking in the stunned expressions on the faces of his students. “Tell me, how does that change the lessons we learned from Sombra’s heresy? Emberglow?” Emberglow had raised her hoof.

“It doesn’t, sir. Unicorns can make righteous choices; it is how they are able to be reborn into other better forms after death, just like we are. But that doesn’t change how dangerous they are, or their need to be de-horned.”

“Well said, Emberglow,” the instructor nodded. “Always remember, ponies, that as we grow closer to the Saints, we can continue to find insights even in stories we have heard a thousand times, like the three great heresies. This leads us to the second great heresy. Could somepony give us a summary…? Highland Flowers, please.” He pointed at a mare who had raised her hoof. She stood up to address the class.

“The second heretic was Sunset Shimmer. After the events of the first heresy, unicorns were separated from the rest of pony society, for our and their safety. Only, Sunset Shimmer and her followers didn’t like that. She led her dupes to occupy Manehatten, terrorizing its earth pony and pegasus inhabitants. The Knights laid siege to the city and brought the second heretic back to New Canterlot for trial and execution.” Following her recitation, Highland Flowers sat back down.

“It may seem like the lessons of the Second Great Heresy are quite similar to the First,” Sir Heavenseeker mused. “Anypony have any insight into how they might be different? What more can we learn from the Second Great Heresy?”

This time ponies were silent for a moment, thinking about the question. It did seem like the lessons were the same. Sir Heavenseeker let his students think for a few minutes before speaking. As usual, he didn’t give them the answer himself, instead adding more information to help them think it out themselves.

“I have heard the same tragic story a hundred times; a mother gives birth to a foal, only to find out that the foal is a unicorn. The mare is heartbroken; how could the Saints have done this to her? But instead of delivering the foal to the Knights Mystic, to be safely taken away to the relocation colonies and have its horn removed, the mare decides that maybe this once, maybe this one unicorn won’t be like the others. How could this perfect, innocent foal turn out to be as dangerous as monsters like Sombra or Sunset Shimmer?

“It always ends badly. Every time. Maybe the foal gets to be a child. Maybe he or she grows all the way into adulthood. But there is always an incident, an injury, an accident, a death. It is never worth it,” Sir Heavenseeker proclaimed, and there was a hitch of emotion in his voice. The class hung on his words, silently watching him. “It’s not worth it for the ponies nearby, and it’s certainly not worth it for the unicorn. So what is the lesson we learn from the Second Great Heresy?”

“Unicorns… can’t live alongside ponies?” somepony in the back chimed in with hesitation. Sir Heavenseeker nodded proudly.

“Just so, Candy Cane. Unicorns cannot coexist with ponies. It doesn’t work in the short term, and it certainly doesn’t work in the long run.”

“Sir, I have a question,” Emberglow asked, raising her hoof. “If unicorns were never designed to coexist with ponies, how did things work before the time of the Saints?”

“That is an excellent question, Emberglow. The short answer is, we don’t quite know. There is a lack of literature from that time period, as you all are aware. But we can speculate. We know some unicorns used their magic for unholy purposes, such as tyranny and domination. We also know some unicorns tried to live in peace. But the Dark Ages were a time of terror and uncertainty, with great ponies, heroes and tyrants that we know nothing about. But the coming of the Saints brought us the enlightenment we needed to begin living the way the Diarchs intended.”

“Any other questions?” Sir Heavenseeker asked. Nopony raised their hooves. “Then we come to the Third Great Heresy, the incident we know the least about. Can I get a summary of that dark event?”

The room was quiet. The First and Second Great Heresies were distant history, but the Third had occurred only three centuries ago. Far beyond the lifespans of all ponies present, but still more recent than any of the other events. For the entire Diarchy, it was an open wound; one that kept festering.

“Like you said, sir, it’s the incident we know the least about,” Emberglow spoke up finally. “Um, the Knights Angelic walked out of New Canterlot City and declared themselves heretics. They were led by the Arch Heretic, whom we know nothing about. They changed their names to the Knights Discordant. We… don’t really know why?” The last sentence began as a statement, but became a question.

“Yes, Emberglow. We know precious little about why the Angelic did what they did. But we can still learn a lesson from their behavior, and we can speculate. And while we may not know the exact reason, that speculation can still teach us a lesson.

“There are several ideas as to why the Angelic betrayed us. Here are some thoughts. Many historians and theologians have suggested that the Angelic’s very nature led them to fall. They were messengers, scouts, and spies, especially to the outer reaches of the Diarchy, lands where the reach of the law is stretched and the authority of the Mystics and Vigilants are thin. Generations of contact with undesirable elements, such as heretics, criminals, and mongrel races let small heresies begin to creep into the Angelic, a slow corruption that they hid from the Mystics for years. They sympathized with those they should be working against, and it led to their fall.

“In this theory, the Arch Heretic doesn’t even need to be a literal historical figure who presaged the fall of the Angelic. Rather, he becomes a symbol of corruption and heresy.

“A second notion is that of outsider interference. Some theologians have suggested that not all the monstrous, immortal creatures of Tartarus were banished from reality by the Saints. That one or more of them somehow escaped destruction, and it bided its time until it could strike back. Taking the form of a pony, it slowly rose through the ranks of the Angelic, spreading corruption and evil on its way, until its plans came to fruition, and the Angelic fell.

“Either or both of these theories could be true, as could dozens of others historians have suggested over the years. But they all lead to one lesson: even the holy can fall. Earth ponies and pegasi may lack the corruption of horn magic, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be corrupted. Always remember this: only through constant righteousness, obedience, and vigilance can you remain a pure vessel for the will of the Diarchs.”

Nopony said a word. Sir Heavenseeker seemed like he was on a roll, and he continued on with passionate momentum.

“Many of you, hopefully most of you, will become Knights. Though it is primarily the duty of the Mystic and the Jubilant to maintain doctrinal purity and keep us safe from heresy, it is the responsibility of all Knights to be ever watchful, both of themselves and their fellow Knights.

“This also leads me to our last subject. The ‘Day of Hope’. Many Knights believe that the Discordant can be redeemed, or recovered. I will not go so far as to call this idea heresy,” Sir Heavenseeker cautioned. “But it often leads Knights to make foolish decisions. The Discordant are not to be trusted. Period. They are consummate deceivers and manipulators. Can somepony open their Book of the Saints to chapter twenty one, verse two?”

Several ponies grabbed their copies of the Book of the Saints, shuffling through to the second half of the books to find the requested verse. This time, Lofty Tale’s hoof went into the air first, followed by several other ponies. Heavenseeker called on Lofty, and the stallion read from his Book.

“’Beware the heretic’s bite; his teeth are hidden behind a sweet smile, but drip with lies and venom,’” Lofty read, his voice loud and confident.

“Perhaps some of you could have recalled that from memory,” Sir Heavenseeker said. Several of the students nodded. “That’s good. It’s always useful to have a scripture verse handy to recite in your mind if you are tempted with impure thoughts or ideas.”

Sir Heavenseeker spent the rest of the class discussing the ways a Knight could be tempted, and various strategies for resisting said corruption. It was a fascinating and useful conversation, and Emberglow was enjoying herself making comments and listening to the others. That was, until the class ended, at least. As the ponies began to filter out of the classroom towards their next lesson, the voices of her tormentors rose behind her.

“Wouldn’t it be awful to be so poor that you have nothing to do all day but study?” a mare said, projecting her speech loudly enough for Emberglow to hear. Emberglow suppressed a sigh. “I’d just die of shame, if that was me.”

“It would be just disgusting,” said a second. “I imagine the only joy you could possibly get in life is by hearing the sound of your own, insufferable know-it-all voice all day long.”

It was the same thing again. Didn’t they realize just how cliché they sounded? It was like bad dialogue out of a foal’s story. Of course, it was all so cleverly vague; if she turned around and confronted them about it, they would cock their heads to the side, ears back, eyes sparkling with feigned innocence, and ask her oh so casually what the problem was. They would keep pace with her, just behind so she could hear every venomous little word, until they reached the location for their next class, Martial Arts. It was a bit of a walk, as today’s class was being held in a field on the far end of the campus, rather than at the usual gym. This had been her life, every day for three months.

“It couldn’t be nearly as horrible as basing your self-worth on the misery of other ponies. That would truly be hellish,” came a third voice loudly from behind the other two. It was Lofty Tale. “Hello, Green Fields. Hello, Astrolabe. I’m sorry, but your conversation was so loud I couldn’t help but overhear and chime in.”

“Not at all, Lofty Tale,” Green Fields simpered. “You can say whatever you want to me.”

“Now correct me if I’m wrong, but it seemed as if you were speaking ill of the less fortunate,” Lofty said with affected innocence. “It seems like such a poor use of your time. I see no poor here, only ponies replete with talent, brains, and a great deal of determination to make the world a better place than they found it.”

“Well, yes, but…” Green Fields stammered. Emberglow tried not to smile at the mare’s discomfort.

“Unless you don’t want to support other ponies in making the world a better place. But that would be incredibly silly, and certainly a violation of the will of the Saints. Of course, you’re not like that at all, Miss Fields, and Miss Astrolabe.” Lofty said, his words running over her stammering.

“Of course not,” Green Fields replied nervously.

“Well, don’t be too slow. I’ve heard something exciting is happening today in Martial Arts,” Lofty finished, hurrying his trot so he could keep pace with Emberglow.

“You realize you might have just made things worse? Stirred the hornet’s nest?” Emberglow whispered softly, as the two walked side by side. Unlike Green Fields and her various flunkies, she did not want her own conversations deliberately overheard.

“Maybe. But I doubt it,” Lofty declared confidently.

Emberglow thought for a moment. “You’re probably right.”. There had been nothing subtle about Green Field’s tone when she spoke with Lofty. “Lust is a powerful motivator.”

“Lust?” Lofty asked, sounding confused.

“You haven’t noticed? Let’s just say Ms. Fields knows exactly who she’d like to plow her fields. So to speak.”

“Oh?” Lofty said, uncomprehending. “Oh!” The mental lightbulb went on. “Would it be immature of me to say ‘eww, gross’?” Emberglow giggled.

“Maybe a little.”

“I’ll risk it,” Lofty said, and in a completely deadpan voice, said, “Eww. Gross.”

“I thought many stallions find Green Fields quite attractive,” Emberglow said carefully. She certainly did; at least from a purely physical standpoint.

“There’s so much more to attraction than a cute mane and nice flanks,” Lofty said airily. “I prefer a mare with intellect and ambition.” She saw him eye her, trying to be casual about it, and decided to deflect that line of thought with humor.

“So you admit you have taken the time to admire her flank?” Emberglow teased, and Lofty glared at her, his face red. “I’m kidding. Thanks for what you did back there.”

“I should have done it sooner,” he muttered, and she looked at him. Lofty looked guilty. “Everypony in our class knows you’re getting bullied. Why isn’t anypony else doing anything?”

“My mentor, Sir Steadfast, says it always happens to sponsored ponies,” Emberglow said casually, waving a hoof. She felt a momentary pang of guilt; maybe she should have reached out to some of the other sponsored ponies.

“That doesn’t make it right,” Lofty said. “Nor does it make it any less wrong for those of us who observe, but do nothing. We’re supposed to be the best ponykind has to offer.”

“We’re also just kids,” Emberglow shrugged. “We still have time to become what the Saints want us to.”

“I guess so. It’s still nice of you to give those jackasses a pass, though,” Lofty said.

“I’m not giving them a pass, I just have better things to do than let them get to me,” Emberglow said. The path they were on rounded the corner of one of the buildings, revealing the empty grass field their class was meeting in. There were three figures standing in the middle of the field; Emberglow couldn’t make them out. Of the three, two of them appeared to be in armor, and one of them was clearly an earth pony in Knight Armor. Emberglow’s interest in tonight’s lesson grew.

“Is that… a gryphon?!” Lofty exclaimed as they grew closer. Murmurs from the other students around them confirmed that he wasn’t the only pony to make that observation. Indeed, Emberglow could clearly see the feathered head, sharp beak, and leonine claws of the strange creature as they approached. She had only ever seen gryphons in paintings and photographs before. He was wearing armor, not the magical armor of the Knights, but a mundane leather affair, with metal plates sewn in strategic locations. He even wore a metal helmet. “What in the name of All Saints is a gryphon doing in New Canterlot City?”

“I imagine we’ll find out in just a second,” Emberglow said, her voice betraying her own curiosity. The other two figures were more familiar, even if Emberglow didn’t recognize one of them. The first was their earth pony martial arts trainer, Lady Amaranth of the Knights Adamant. She wore her typical exercise uniform, loose blue dyed cotton with Saint Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark embroidered on the side. The other was also clearly a Knight, and Emberglow’s excitement surged to see that the Knight was wearing the white painted armor of the Knights Radiant, complete with Saint Rarity’s cutie mark painted on the flank. “Do you see who’s next to the griffon, though? A real, live Knight Radiant!”

Emberglow knew she sounded a bit like a fanfilly. She didn’t care. She’d never had a chance to speak with one of Saint Rarity’s Knights before; she’d read plenty of stories and newspaper articles, and of course she’d met Knights from the other orders, like Sir Steadfast and Lady Ruby Berry. But Saint Rarity’s was the smallest of the five Holy Orders, and Emberglow had never had a chance to actually meet one of its members.

“You’ve never met one before?” Lofty said, as they stepped onto the grassy field. “Huh, that seems odd. Is that the order you’re going for?”

“Yeah it is,” Emberglow replied, her eyes not leaving the mare. She was tall and elegantly beautiful; the battle scar dragging down the center of her muzzle was an accent, rather than a distraction, from her dignified beauty. The Knight’s emerald hair was a perfect complement to her pale, lime colored eyes and sky-blue fur. She watched the approaching pages with a patient interest.

“Class, gather up!” Lady Amaranth called out to her students as they approached, chattering and gossiping about the two guests. “Quiet now, please. Gather up, and mouths closed. We have a special lesson today, with two guests. First, I know you’re all a little alarmed about the presence of one of the lesser races here today. Pages, this is Adorjan. He is a mercenary from the Badlands. He cannot speak Ponish, so don’t bother trying to have a conversation with him. He’s here to help in our training tonight, and for the next four weeks. He is the reason our next several class meetings will be held outside; all of the Seminary’s buildings are sanctified, so we are forbidden from allowing heathens inside.

“Also with us tonight is Lady Mercy Song, of the Knights Radiant. Our training over the next few weeks will be grueling and violent. Some of you will get hurt. Most of you, probably. She is here to be on hand when something goes wrong. But please, don’t assume that the presence of a skilled Knight Radiant excuses any of you from constant concentration or vigilance. It doesn’t. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!” thirty odd voices chorused.

“Tonight we are going to begin learning how to fight against a unicorn! Now you may be wondering, how can we learn that if there are no unicorns to practice against? The answer is, you can’t! But you can come close,” Lady Amaranth said with a grim smile. “Can anypony tell me what the biggest difference is between fighting a unicorn Knight, and fighting a Knight from one of the pony races?”

The class silently muttered to each other, stewing over the answers. It was Lofty Tale who spoke up; Emberglow remembered her new friend was always one of the best in this class.

“Levitation, ma’am!” Lofty called out.

“That’s right, page! Levitation! With rune magic, we can mimic nearly every single spell a unicorn can cast, except two. Levitation, and teleportation. Of the two spells, teleportation is by far the most difficult, and only used by the most skilled and talented of unicorns. Levitation, however, can be used practically at birth by unicorn foals. Every unicorn foe you encounter will be able to levitate objects, attacking you from multiple angles and unexpected vectors. That is why our griffin mercenary is here. Though he cannot levitate anything, his claws will allow him to grip two weapons at once, attacking from unexpected angles.

“One thing I must emphasize is this; as we spar with Adorjan, here, he will be using a specialized fighting style designed only to train you how to fight unicorns! Griffins have their own way of fighting, and if you expect any griffon to fight as he is tonight, you will be dead before you have time to ask what went wrong. Any questions?” Everypony was silent; several were practically dancing on their hooves to have a chance at sparring with the griffon. “No? Good. Here’s how tonight’s lesson will go. I will begin, equipped with nothing but a single buckler. My only objective is to not get hit. Adorjan here will be equipped with two wooden swords. His only objective is to hit me. Just so you ponies know, our griffin mercenary is particularly motivated; each bout will be timed; you will fight the griffin for five minutes. Every one of you he manages to strike within those five minutes is a bonus bit for his paycheck. He is very interested in extra pay. I can only hope you lot are just as interested in not getting your bones broken! Now, I’ll go first, for a demonstration. I’ve promised Adorjan an extra fifteen bits if he manages to strike me.”

“She’s exaggerating, right?” Emberglow whispered to Lofty, who shrugged.

“If she is, why do we need a Radiant?” he asked, and Emberglow shivered with nervousness.

Lady Amaranth turned to the non-pony creature, squawking something at him in a language none of the pages understood. The griffon chuckled, and screeched something back at her. He reached down into the grass and picked up two wooden swords. Emberglow recognized the practice weapons the ponies had been drilling with for months now; each wooden blade was deliberately weighted so that they had the heft and balance of a real weapon. Each one contained a slightly flexible metal core, with a collection of bound-together wooden dowels. Though they didn’t cut, they could still leave wicked bruises or even broken bones if they hit just right. Lady Amaranth picked up a wooden buckler, and the two proceeded into an open space in the field.

“Lady Song, please start the time,” Lady Amaranth said. The armored Knight Radiant was wearing a stopwatch around her neck. She picked up the stopwatch and pushed the button on the top, calling out “Begin!” to the two combatants.

There was no hesitation, no pause, no sizing up of opponents. Adorjan simply lunged, his wings thrusting powerfully to put him in midair, just above his pony opponent. His right sword lunged, pointed downward right at the Knight’s head, while his left swooped in for a slice at neck height. When Lady Amaranth blocked the first stab, the griffon immediately shifted, his slice sliding lower. Lady Amaranth rolled away from the slice, dodging backwards and to the left.

The griffon pressed his attack aggressively, but even Emberglow, with her inexperienced eyes, could see the oddities in the griffon’s movement. Not once did he employ his sharp back claws, and neither did he take full advantage of the higher ground his wings afforded him. He simply used his wings to create mobility. Each slice or stab became hard to predict as the griffon dodged and wove through the air, always just at about pony height. Sometimes both attacks came at the same time, sometimes he staggered them, forcing the Knight to dodge or block accordingly.

Emberglow noticed that the griffon always tried to attack from as different a direction as possible. She tried to imagine what it might look like if Lady Amaranth were actually fighting a unicorn; dodging and blocking multiple strikes from weapons held aloft in the levitating glow of a unicorn’s blasphemous magic. She watched as Amaranth barely ducked under a vicious slice, only to have to bring her shield up rapidly to knock the other weapon away as it was darting towards her chin.

For five whole minutes the opponents wove and darted around each other. Each time Emberglow thought the griffon was about to land a hit, Lady Amaranth managed to weave out of the attack. For a moment, Emberglow wondered what the fight would be like if the Lady Knight were also armed. She imagined that future lessons might contain just such a situation.

Finally, Lady Mercy Song shouted, “Time!” and the two combatants took a moment to catch their breath. The griffon floated over to a pair of water bottles on the ground, picked one up, and drank deeply. With a laugh, he said something in his odd language at Lady Amaranth, who smirked and responded in kind.

“Okay. That’s how this exercise works. Come forward when I call your name, and you’ll get your turn with Adorjan. The exercise lasts for five minutes, or until you get hit. First up, Astrolabe!”

The earth pony mare moved forward with a nervous gulp. Lady Amaranth handed the younger earth pony the buckler, helping her attach it to her front right hoof. She then gave Astrolabe a gentle shove into the field, where the griffon looked on with slight boredom. He muttered something in his high-pitched tongue.

“Ready?” Lady Mercy Song called out, waiting for Astrolabe’s shaky nod. “Begin!”

Emberglow had to give Astrolabe credit; the mare had paid close attention to the earlier demonstration, trying to mimic Lady Amaranth’s movements as she blocked and dodged at the same time. It was possible that Adorjan was moving a little more slowly than he had with Lady Amaranth; Emberglow wasn’t quite sure. Astrolabe managed to block the first strike, and dodge the next two, before her third dodge took her right into the path of a down-rushing wooden blade. With a dull thwack the practice weapon landed on her shoulder, and Astrolabe cried out in pain. The griffon immediately back-winged, moving away from the young mare and halting his attack while Lady Mercy Song moved in.

Emberglow watched, fascinated, as the right gauntlet around Mercy Song’s hoof began to glow as the Knight channeled her rune magic. She painted three runes in midair, just above Astrolabe’s injured shoulder. Her eyes glowed briefly blue, before she called out, “No break, minor injury. It will be bruised, but nothing too awful. Forty-one seconds.”

It took the assembled ponies a moment to realize that Lady Mercy Song was reporting on how long Astrolabe had lasted. Lady Amaranth nodded and called out for the next pony. “Axel Grease, you’re up.”

Axel Grease managed only thirty four seconds, with a badly bruised rump. Next was Candy Cane, at thirty seven seconds, with a bruised wing and a few broken feathers. Then it was Emberglow’s turn. She tried to ignore the look of misery on Candy Cane’s face as the mare unbuckled the shield from around her hoof to pass it on to Emberglow.

“Ready?” Lady Mercy Song called out, and Emberglow felt her breath catch in her throat. No, she wasn’t ready. She was terrible at this class. Well, perhaps not terrible. Barely passing, maybe. Certainly not anything to be impressed about, and wait a moment, had Lady Mercy Song said, “Begin?” With an undignified squeak, she reacted before she could think as a practice sword swooped over her head, flopping onto her belly and bringing her shield hoof up, covering her face.

There was a momentary pause before she heard the griffon laugh and felt something gently tap her back.

“Three seconds,” called out Lady Mercy Song, over the smattering of laughter from her fellow students.

“Page Emberglow. Would you care to tell us what happened?” Lady Amaranth said, her voice not harsh, but disappointed.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I was nervous and distracted, and missed the start, and then I panicked,” Emberglow said honestly. She was burning with embarrassment, looking down at her hooves in shame. She heard the snickers of the others.

“Congratulations, Page Emberglow, you’re now dead. Tell me, how badly do corpses care about nervousness? Panic? Embarrassment?”

“Um, not at all, ma’am?” Emberglow whimpered, shamefaced.

“Exactly. Learn from your failures, Emberglow, and do better next time. Hungry Gorge? You’re up next.”

Emberglow slunk back to the rest of the group. She wanted to bury her face in her hooves and hide, curled up in a little mortified ball, but she took Lady Amaranth’s words as an order. Learn from your failures. She sat down to watch the rest of the matches intently, ignoring the comments from the peanut gallery behind her.

“Wow, that was atrocious,” Lofty Tale whispered from right next to her, though his voice was concerned rather than cruel or taunting.

“Shut it,” she muttered at him.

“Still, it does mean you can only get better from here,” he mused. “Besides, it’d be just unfair if you were good at everything. You’re practically the smartest in our class, and you’re the best at rune magic, too.” To be fair, the only thing they’d studied in rune magic was memorization and theory; they hadn’t been allowed a rune gauntlet to begin casting yet.

It was fairly obvious that Lofty was trying to cheer her up after her failure. Still, she felt like he deserved a little appreciation for his kindness, even if she didn’t feel like talking. She reached out a hoof and patted him on the shoulder, and he shot her a surprised look. They both said nothing as Hungry Gorge returned to the group, somehow managing an impressive one minute, twenty one seconds, and rubbing his sore muzzle.

“You’ll do better next time. I’m looking forward to tutoring you, and seeing how you improve.”

“Thanks, Lofty,” Emberglow said sincerely.

“Lofty Tale, you’re next,” Lady Amaranth called out, and Lofty grinned with excitement.

“Wish me luck,” he said.

“Good luck,” Emberglow called out to her friend. Lofty approached the griffon trainer and strapped the buckler onto his hoof.

“When did the Tale family start keeping pets?” a familiar voice came from behind her. Emberglow should have known the fangs would come out as soon as Lofty was out of earshot. She did her best not to react, but her ears twitched subconsciously, turning to the sound before she could whip them back forward. She owed it to Lofty to pay attention to his fight.

“I don’t know, but I never thought turtles were a very attractive pet. All they do is hide their ugly heads under their shell.” Emberglow wanted to scream. Of course they would come up with a way to bring her recent failure into this. She tried to focus back on the match that was about to start.

“Begin!” Lady Mercy called.

Lofty immediately began circling to the left, clockwise around his opponent. The griffon didn’t hesitate either, screeching a battle cry and attacking with both weapons at once. An easy swipe of the buckler would have knocked them both aside, but the clearly ambidextrous griffon had other plans; one of the swords stayed the course while the other snaked around the buckler to strike at Lofty’s chest.

Lofty noticed the gambit, however, and quick-stepped back, out of range of the thrust. A second swipe from the first sword went low, and Emberglow was sure he would jump over the weapon; it turned out that Lofty was cleverer than she was. Rather than jumping over the low cutting wooden blade, he sidestepped it, giving him the position he needed to block the downward swipe from the other weapon. Had the earth pony stallion been in midair, he probably wouldn’t have been able to block the other strike.

“Not only are turtles ugly, but they’re useless, as well,” came a third voice. “All they do is sit there, eat, and get fat.”

The pattern of the fight continued on. Adorjan would strike at Lofty in ways that had predictable responses, setting him up for a second strike that would hit if Lofty responded predictably to the first strike. Each feint, each misdirection, and Lofty would respond opposite what Adorjan was expecting. The key was clearly to always respond unpredictably. Or at least not get startled and flop on the ground.

Soon, even the bullying going on behind Emberglow slowed to a stop as the pages all became engrossed in Lofty’s fight with the griffin. When they passed the one minute mark, Lofty was not yet even short of breath. A near miss, where Adorjan’s wooden sword slid a mere paper’s width above Lofty’s mane, made the entire class gasp with tension. But the timer kept going, and Lofty kept dodging.

By the two minute mark, though, Emberglow could see Lofty’s shield drooping. Adorjan clearly saw it too; a side swiped thrust with his right sword knocked the shield out of the way.

The move was fast and violent; the griffon’s left-hand wooden blade impacted hard against Lofty’s forehead, just between his eyes. Lofty stood still for a moment, frozen on his hooves, before his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground. Emberglow was moving before she realized she’d made a conscious decision to do so.

“Hold, page,” Lady Amaranth ordered, and Emberglow froze as Lady Mercy Song was already at the unconscious stallion’s side. She watched as the Knight Radiant started drawing runes, this time more than just for the simple diagnosis spell from earlier.

“Concussion. Simple, no broken bones. I’ll heal him.” Her magical rune gauntlet glowed, flitting through the air in a complex pattern of runes. The shimmer of magic surrounded Lofty Tale’s forehead and neck. Lady Amaranth watched, concerned, while Adorjan took a moment to take a drink and rest from his bouts. He seemed completely uninterested in the outcome of the healing.

“He’ll be fine,” the healer announced, after a moment. Indeed, Lofty’s eyes fluttered open after a second, and he whispered something at the Knight Radiant, who gave a surprised laugh.

“Two minutes, thirty seven seconds, young page,” the Radiant replied to his unheard question. “Well done.”

She extended a hoof to help Lofty Tale to his hooves, who accepted with a shaky smile. Once on his hooves, he stumbled a bit over to the rest of the pages, coming to a stop next to Emberglow.

“That was impressive,” Emberglow whispered. Lofty nodded blearily.

“Thanks, that’s a nice thing for both of you to say,” he replied. She was confused for a moment, before realizing he was making a joke about double vision.

“Not funny, Lofty. If you’re experiencing double vision, that could be a sign that…”

“Stop, I was kidding,” Lofty said, as the two of them watched the next pony in line stumble away after a less-than-impressive thirty seconds. “No double vision. Healing rune spells are amazing.”

“How did it feel?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I blacked out, remember? Kinda cold, I guess. Like my brain just ate a peppermint.”

“That makes… um… no sense,” Emberglow replied.

“I did just have a head injury,” Lofty said sagely, and Emberglow laughed.

For the remainder of the session, the rest of the class had their chance fighting against the griffon. Emberglow wondered if the creature was getting tired, but the timings for each of the students remained fairly constant, and Adorjan never appeared to flag with tiredness. Though a few ponies were able to break the one minute mark, none came close to Lofty Tale’s lofty record.

“That’s it!” Lady Amaranth called out after the last pony limped away from his opponent. “You’re done for the day. If you need to, see the infirmary for something to rub on your bruises. I expect you all to stretch, and any injury you might have obtained will not be used as an excuse to get out of the morning jog tomorrow. Emberglow and Lofty Tale, I’d like to see you both after.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m about to get told off, but why did she call you up?” Emberglow asked her friend. Lofty shrugged.

“You’ll be fine,” Lofty said encouragingly. Emberglow wasn’t so sure.

“Okay, young lady,” Lady Amaranth began as the two of them approached. Emberglow’s head was low with shame, her ears pinned back against her head. “That was a bit of a disaster,”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow said softly.

“Not really just a one-time mistake, either,” Lady Amaranth said. “Look, I’m not trying to insult you or discourage you. You’re smart, and you work hard. Anypony can see that. But you’re struggling in martial arts. And it’s not a lack of effort.”

“Ma’am?” Emberglow asked, confused. She noticed that Lady Mercy Song had made her way over to the three, but the griffon was minding his own business, sitting alone in the field.

“You’re a loner, Emberglow. You try to do everything by yourself, and while for some subjects that might work for you, in this class you’re suffering for it. Now, you’re a little older, right? I was told you delayed a year before joining Knight training so you could finish medical school.”

“That’s correct, ma’am,” Emberglow said, receiving an impressed look from both Lofty Tale and Lady Mercy Song.

“Really?” Lady Mercy Song chimed in eagerly, earning an annoyed look from Lady Amaranth.

“You can interrogate the doctor after my class, Mercy.”

“Sorry Amy,” Lady Mercy said, shutting her mouth.

“Now then,” Lady Amaranth returned her attention to Emberglow. “This shows determination and a willingness to work hard, but your age might also isolate you, and alienate you from the rest of the students. I’m convinced you can be better, but you’re working in the wrong way. Weapon training isn’t something a pony can do effectively by themselves.” She turned to Lofty. “Lofty Tale, you’re not always the top of the class, but you’re usually close. And tonight’s performance was most impressive. Not just luck, but a clever use of observation and instinct. I am very pleased. You also strike me as a kind and thoughtful stallion. I would like you to tutor Emberglow in her combat training. I will provide a lesson plan and materials.” She paused. Both Emberglow and Lofty Tale were grinning. “Why are you both smiling?”

“We just came to a similar arrangement, ma’am,” Lofty said. “In exchange for some help with my rune magic work, I was going to help Emberglow with her combat skills.”

“Oh. Good. Great!” Lady Amaranth said, pleased. “I’ll still provide you with some structure, so your tutoring sessions will be more than just a study session. I’ll have my squire deliver the plans to your dorm, Lofty.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Lofty said. “Um, there may be one other issue.”

Emberglow looked at her friend in surprise, and Lady Amaranth cocked her head inquisitively.

“Emberglow has to spend much of her free time in the laundry room, due to the actions of others. It may leave us little time for extra tutoring sessions.”

Emberglow’s face lit up with both anger and embarrassment.

“Why would…” Lady Amaranth began, but Lady Mercy Song reached out to her, touching her briefly on the shoulder with a hoof. They shared a significant glance. “Hmm. Very well. Should additional laundry sessions become necessary again, I’ll assign another student to take care of them. Miss Green Fields, perhaps?”

Emberglow gaped at the perceptive glance Lady Amaranth was giving her. Maybe the teachers here were not as ignorant to the bullying as she had assumed. Then again, Sir Steadfast had warned her. Maybe the problem was hers, for not saying something.

“I think that would work, ma’am,” Lofty Tale replied.

“Good,” Lady Amaranth nodded curtly. “Now if you ponies will excuse me, I have to escort our griffon to his quarters. It’s illegal for him to wander about without escort, after all.” She moved over to the griffon, conversing with him in his home tongue.

“Miss Emberglow? I’d like a word, please,” Lady Mercy Song said. Emberglow only nodded, a little awed. This was the first time she’d had a chance to actually meet and converse with a Knight from the order she wanted to join, after all.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know if… well, you know,” Lofty Tale replied.

“Yeah. And thanks,” Emberglow said, even though she had reservations. If Green Fields and her flunkies were stymied in their bullying, would they simply find a new way to torment her? Or would they give up? Emberglow was betting on the former. She didn’t want to say as much to Lofty, though; it was kind of him to worry about her, and she didn’t want to give him more cause to be concerned. She made sure to smile as she waved goodbye to him when he walked off towards the dormitory.

“So you really finished medical school?” Lady Mercy asked as soon as they were alone. The excitement in her voice was palpable. “At your age?”

“I graduated secondary school when I was twelve, ma’am, and immediately went into medical school,” Emberglow answered. “It’s my special talent. My cutie mark told me I was going to go into medicine somehow.”

“Do you mind if I look up a picture of it in the school records?” Lady Mercy asked. Emberglow nodded. “Wonderful! Um, and may I assume, from all that, the Order you intend on joining when you become a Knight?”

Emberglow grinned. The Knight’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“Yes, you may, ma’am. I hope to call you Sister someday.”

“Good. Good!” The serious tone did little to hide Lady Mercy Song’s bubbling elation. “We get so few applicants to the Knights Radiant. In a class this size, with over seventy pages, we’re unlikely to get more than three or four who are aspiring to the Radiant at the beginning of the year. With our luck, at least one of those three will drop out, and will change their mind and end up in the Jubilant or the Adamant. We’re already the smallest order, Miss Emberglow. We need talented ponies like yourself.”

“Talented ponies?” Emberglow said, suddenly doubtful. “Ma’am, you saw what happened tonight.”

“I won’t lie, Emberglow. It’s going to be difficult for you. You’re going to work your rump off. But hard work won’t be your problem, will it, Miss ‘I graduated med school as a teenager’?”

“I don’t mind hard work, ma’am,” Emberglow said, blushing.

“I didn’t think so. Now, when does your class start service weekends?”

Service weekends were a tradition at the Ivy Seminary. While in theory, pages were there to assist squires and Knights in their duties, the reality was that most of a page’s day was taken up by classes, homework, study, tutoring, and chores. There was little time for more practical training. So, as a tradition, twice a month on the weekends not used for family visits, Knights came to find pages to assist with various chores and small tasks.

“The Saturday after next will be our third. I’ve volunteered each time, but I haven’t been picked for anything yet,” Emberglow said.

“You will this week,” Lady Mercy Song said with a firm nod. “I’ll be there. Don’t worry, I’ll find something to keep you occupied. I want to see what you’re made of, little pony.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Emberglow gushed. A chance to prove herself! To a Knight Radiant, even! She was practically bouncing.

“Now, if you don’t mind my asking, you are a sponsored pony, right?” Lady Mercy Song asked. “I’d like to get to know more about you, if you don’t mind. Who is your sponsor?”

“Sir Steadfast Word, of the Knights Mystic, ma’am.”

“I haven’t met Sir Steadfast. I’ll have to introduce myself,” Lady Mercy said with a small smile. “Well, thank you for your time, Miss Emberglow. I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”

“I hope so, Lady Mercy,” Emberglow said, and the Knight nodded at her before walking off in the direction of the infirmary. Emberglow spread her wings, taking to the air on her way back to her dormitory. She didn’t fly often; it felt arrogant to her, to be in the air in this world of earth ponies. But tonight her heart wanted to fly, so she did the best she could with her own wings.

Chapter 5

Radio Broadcast, dated 1109 AF.

Aurora Morning: Good morning, you’re listening to EVOD, the Voice of the Diarchy frequency one oh three point nine on your radio, and this is your morning update. I’m one of your hosts, Aurora Morning, and here’s your other, Fiery Muzzle.

Fiery Muzzle: Thanks, A M. We’re here at the morning update to bring you the latest news about our boys and girls fighting at our borders, and overseas, against the heathens and non-pony creatures that would ravage our cities and demolish our countryside.

A M: That’s right, F M. So what good news do we have today?

F M: Well first off, we have the Dragon Lands. Our heroic soldiers just got back from a fight with not one, not two, but three D-class dragons.

A M: Those aren’t small beasts, F M.

F M: No they’re not. A D-class dragon’s bigger than a two story house. And there were three of them!

A M: I’m sure there were a few singed coats and manes after that little dust up.

(Both hosts chuckle)

F M: Probably a few. What’s next?

A M: Well, there was a good bit of action on the Zebrican front.

F M: Any luck bringing those heathens to the light of the Diarchs?

A M: There’s always forward motion, F M. This week, a squad of heroic soldiers, accompanied by some Knights Adamant, managed to capture nearly an entire village of zebras, alongside the traitor ponies who were hiding with them. Fortunately for the heathens, they’ll have the chance to learn the glory of the Saints at Camp Bright Valley, the brand-new reeducation camp.

F M: It’s also the first to be built on the Zebrican continent.

A M: Yes it is F M, but I’ve been told that’s not all. It seems the heroic Knight Adamant leading the squad also reports the capture of two violent Knights Discordant. According to my sources, the vicious creatures are on their way back to New Canterlot in chains as we speak, to face trial for their crimes.

F M: A bright day for the Diarchy, indeed.

A M: But that’s not the only good news today. It seems the Knights Mystic and Vigilant, working together, uncovered a bit of a poisonous mole here in New Canterlot City.

F M: No! In the capitol?

A M: That’s right. A lowly secretary in the Central Cathedral by the name of Shady Pine was caught passing confessor secrets on to heretic elements outside the city. Fortunately, the worm was caught in the act and apprehended by the two groups of Knights on his way to his heretic contact.

F M: That’s one snake chopped off at the head.

A M: That’s right F M, but heretics are like the hydra. Cut off one head, and two more take it’s place. You can never be too careful, or too vigilant, when it comes to heretics.

F M: Too right, A M. But now on to sports. In the New Canterlot Regional Hoofball League, the Canterlot Holy Blades bested the Rainbow Falls Barriers eighteen to eleven. The top plays of the game…

The rest of the recording is missing.

1109 AF, Ivy Seminary, New Canterlot City

“Wait, you said there were how many rune combinations?” Lofty asked, sounding panicked.

“Thousands. But you don’t need to worry about that right now,” Emberglow explained. They sat in the study hall, a large room full of semi-private cubicles that shared a building with a library. Each cubicle was partitioned off from the others around it by way of thin wooden half walls.

“Thousands!? How can I not worry about that!? I have to memorize thousands of rune combinations! I can’t memorize that much!”

“You’re thinking about this completely backwards,” Emberglow sighed in frustration. “How about this. What would you say if I was struggling at martial arts training…”

“Not much of an 'if',” Lofty interrupted snarkily.

“Hush. If I was struggling at martial arts training because I was freaking out about all the different names for weapons?”

“That’s… ridiculous. It’s a ridiculous analogy. That doesn’t help at all,” Lofty groused.

“Okay, maybe a little ridiculous. You’re still worrying about the wrong thing, though. You don’t have to memorize the combinations.”

“I don’t?” Lofty asked. “I thought you had to know the combinations in order to cast spells?”

“You do, but that’s not where you need to start. You need to work on the runes first, then worry about the combinations.”

“Okay…” Lofty didn’t sound convinced.

“So I’m going to start from the beginning. I’ll assume that you know nothing about runes at all…”

“Probably a safe assumption,” Lofty cut in.

“Hush! I’ll start at the beginning. There are three kinds of runes. Object runes, action runes, and modifying runes. How did you do in your Ponish classes in secondary school?” Emberglow asked. The question caught Lofty off guard.

“Um, I did pretty well? I actually enjoy writing,” Lofty said.

“Good. So you understand the difference between nouns, verbs, adjectives, and adverbs,” Emberglow stated.

“Of course. That’s basic Ponish stuff. The building blocks to constructing a sentence.”

“Right. Only we’re not constructing sentences, we’re constructing spells. Object runes are like nouns; they refer to the object you’re trying to cast a spell on. Action runes are the verbs, and modifying runes are the adjectives and adverbs.”

“Oh! Why doesn’t Sir Sablebeard teach it this way?” Lofty asked.

“I don’t know,” Emberglow answered. “It’s something I read in a book. So just like you need a noun and a verb to make a sentence, you need an object rune and an action rune to cast a spell. It’s not a perfect analogy, but it works. Just like you don’t have to memorize every sentence that could be written in order to write, you don’t have to memorize every single rune combination in order to cast spells, as long as you understand the underlying principle.”

“So… why does Sir Sablebeard say we need to memorize the rune combinations?” Lofty asked.

“Probably because he learned it that way, and he’s an ancient grandpa pony who never thought of another way to teach. I don’t know,” Emberglow said. Lofty gasped dramatically.

“Emberglow! Did I just hear you insult a teacher?” He held a hoof to his mouth with a scandalized expression. Emberglow swatted his hoof away.

“Nope, just his methods,” Emberglow muttered. “But setting that aside, the first thing we’re going to work on is object runes. They’ve been organized into three categories, in order to make them easier to learn. The categories are animal, mineral, and vegetable. Animal covers everything from ponies to jellyfish; basically anything alive that isn’t a plant or a mushroom. Mineral is stuff that isn’t alive. Vegetable is trees and mushrooms and plants. That sort of stuff.”

“So there’s a rune for each of those things?” Lofty Tale asked. Emberglow shook her head.

“No, the runes are more conceptual than that. More… abstract. The categories are just a way of organizing them, so that they make sense to ponies who are learning them, like us. So the first thing we’re going to do is start memorizing animal object runes. We’ll cover a few basics, then move on to a few of the simpler action runes. Once you have a basic list figured out, we’ll start talking about combinations. Does that sound manageable?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Okay. I’ve already taken the time to write out a list of object runes to memorize. How are you on memorization? Like, what strategies do you use?”

“Um, I stare at what I want memorized until it’s imprinted in my brain?” Lofty said uncertainly.

Emberglow sighed, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hooves. This was going to take a while.

Forty mentally exhausting minutes later, their study period was over for the day. Emberglow stood, stretching her spine and each leg in turn, trying not to notice the way Lofty’s gaze lingered on her form before jerking away.

“Lunch is in ten minutes. I’m going to head back to my dorm to drop off my books, you want to meet me in the cafeteria?” Emberglow asked. Lofty shook his head.

“I was hoping I could walk you to your room,” he said. Emberglow’s eyes narrowed, and Lofty verbally backpedaled. “Erm, it’s just that Lady Amaranth doesn’t want you to have to spend any extra time doing laundry. I have to make sure the pony I’m tutoring will have the time she needs to pay attention to her lessons.”

“You’re checking on my room? Lofty, they haven’t dumped anything nasty in my sheets for a week and a half,” Emberglow said. “It’s over.”

“I doubt it. Green Fields is furious, and she’s just looking for a chance to do something horrible. I tried to warn her to stay away…” He held up his hooves to forestall a furious look from Emberglow. “I was careful! I just vaguely let her know about your extra lessons, and who would be doing the laundry if anypony messed up your room or your sheets again. She seemed to take it well.”

“That’s because she’s infatuated with you, idiot. She’s going to act like nothing’s wrong around you.”

“I’ve never shown her an inch of interest,” Lofty protested. “Why would she…”

“A fool’s hope can last forever,” Emberglow murmured.

“…but the righteous cling to wisdom,” Lofty finished the scripture with a sigh. “Yeah, I get it. Still, though, you’re my friend, and I’m going to do my best to help you with your bully situation. So we’re walking back together.”

“Just don’t do anything weird,” Emberglow mumbled as she walked away. Lofty ignored her, following after the mare to the dormitories.

The dorms were built to hold as many as two hundred ponies working towards Knighthood; their current class had dropped to sixty eight, with a few washouts, even only three and a half months into training. Because there was so much space, the pages had the luxury of individual rooms. The dorms were held in a two-story building, long and narrow, with a north and south wing. The wings were segregated by gender, though it wasn’t against the rules to be in the hallways of another gender’s wing. Emberglow walked in the large double doors and up the staircase to the second floor, turning right to the South wing and the girl’s dormitory area.

Emberglow smelled something wrong before she even opened her door, and her heart sank. She had known better, but somehow she had really hoped that all this would be over. She didn’t want Green Fields or her friends to be punished; she just wanted to be left alone. But the stench coming from even her closed dorm room was a dead giveaway.

“Emberglow, I’m sorry, but I have to go tell Lady Amaranth. It’s her orders,” Lofty said, his voice soft and compassionate. Emberglow nodded.

“Sure. Yeah. Let’s just go in and see what the damage was,” Emberglow said. Scrunching up her nose, she opened the door. The rush of air from inside the room assaulted her with the stench of bodily waste.

“Oh, Emberglow, I’m so sorry,” Lofty Tale said, holding a hoof to his muzzle. Emberglow nodded, stepping cautiously into the room. Puddles of filth spotted the floor, but as usual, the main concentration of waste was smeared over her bed. She checked her dresser drawers; they had been left untouched. There, folded gently beneath her spare page robes, was her beloved dress, the gift from her parents. Emberglow whispered a quick prayer of gratitude to the Saints as the pounding of her heart calmed, just a bit. At least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“It's fine,” Emberglow gulped past the lump in her throat. “But now you'll have to tell Lady Amaranth. And she’ll act. And they’ll hate me even more.”

“It has to stop sometime, Emberglow. And you really do need that extra time to tutor me, and spar.”

“Thanks for reminding me. I think I’ll keep my books with me, just to be safe. You’ll…” Emberglow hesitated, “…meet me in the cafeteria, after you speak with Lady Amaranth?” She would have preferred to ignore it, just like the last six times this had happened. But she had been given an order. Obedience was more important than her own petty feelings.

“Yeah. I’ll see you there,” he said, backing away from the room. “Sorry again.”

“Not your fault, Lofty. Thanks for… um… well, thanks,” Emberglow said awkwardly, and the two split off to their separate errands.

The cafeteria was also too large for the needs of the current year of students. It could have easily held half again as many ponies as were eating there. Trying not to appear too dejected, Emberglow went and lined up at the window where a stallion in an apron and mane-net was dishing out hay burgers and a spinach and strawberry salad.

“What’s that smell?” came the voice of Green Fields, a few ponies back in line.

“Eww! Smells like horseapples!” Astrolabe responded. Honestly, at this point it sounded rehearsed, like the two of them were giving lines in a play. Emberglow ignored them.

“Really? Because I think it smells like a dirty peasant who doesn’t know her place,” Green Fields hissed, coming closer so that her words were clearly directed at Emberglow.

Emberglow’s eyes widened in surprise, and her ears turned back towards the mares behind her. This was the first time their taunting had been deliberately directed right at her, rather than the passive-aggressive plausible deniability they’d gone for before. Emberglow couldn’t help herself; she turned to face her tormentors.

“Keep your dirty peasant hooves off him, bitch,” the mare spat at Emberglow. Green Field’s eyes glowed with fury, and her henchpony Astrolabe glared down her nose with contempt. Green Fields stepped forward until she was nearly nose to nose with Emberglow. “He’s too good for you.”

Oh. So that was where this was going now. And with Lofty currently fetching a teacher to come punish Green Fields for what she’d done… Things were going to get really nasty, really fast. Emberglow sighed.

“I want you to know, I never wanted things to go this far. I just wanted to be left alone. What comes next is your own fault,” Emberglow said softly. “I wish this could have gone differently.”

“What? Is that some kind of threat?” Green Fields spat. Emberglow turned around, her back to her tormentor, and took the tray of food from the cafeteria worker. She began walking carefully to her table. “Answer me, bitch! Don’t you dare ignore me, I’m speaking to you!” Green Field’s voice was becoming shrill.

“Miss Green Fields?” Lady Amaranth's voice resounded through the cafeteria. All the young ponies perked up, turning their ears, and for some their heads, towards the unexpected arrival. “Come with me, please.”

Emberglow didn’t even turn to look, but with how many ponies had at least overheard a bit of what had happened in line, quite a few eyes were turned to her as she made her way to a lonely spot at one of the tables, setting her tray down and beginning to eat. She heard the clopping of hooves as Green Fields made her way over to where Lady Amaranth was standing at the door, and a loud, dismayed shout of “WHAT?!” as the bully realized what she would be required to do. Emberglow didn’t look. She had no appetite; eating was mechanical. She didn’t look up until she heard the sound of a metal tray hitting the table next to her.

“Hey,” Lofty Tale said, his voice cautious. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” Emberglow sighed. “I’m just… sad about the whole thing. And angry. Maybe she backs off now, maybe she doesn’t, but why can’t ponies just treat each other nicely? What did I ever do to her? Why’d she have to let it get this far? This whole situation is like a bad cliché out of some foal’s tale.” She could feel herself getting more emotional, more frustrated with each word. Lofty reached out a hoof to her shoulder, patting it gently.

“Sometimes ponies are just cruel to each other. It doesn’t always make sense. You could just as easily be asking why nopony did something sooner.” He gestured out over the crowd eating their meals and pretending not to be trying to overhear what the two were speaking about.

“Why do ponies hurt each other, though? It makes no sense!” Emberglow could tell she was being irrational, and perhaps a little incoherent. “Cruelty, spite, bitterness, these things shouldn’t exist! Who the buck cares about nobility and commoners, class differences, that sort of horseapples?”

“Emberglow…” Lofty Tale said with a sigh. “You and I were raised in very different worlds. I was literally told, every day, that I was better than everypony else because of the noble family I was born into. We’re raised that way. It takes time and effort to break out of that kind of conditioning; and some ponies never bother, or even see the need.”

“You did,” Emberglow pointed out. “Why’d you decide to be nice and decent, rather than stuck up and snooty?”

“I… it’s complicated,” Lofty Tale protested. “And I’m not as decent as you think.”

“That’s horseapples and you know it,” Emberglow snorted. “You were the only pony to even bother to talk to me. That makes you better than anypony else here, even me. Do you see me making an effort to make friends? To talk to anypony else? No. And I’ve heard the way you talk to even Green Fields. You don’t like her, but you still try to treat her with respect.”

“That’s what I was taught,” Lofty Tale explained. “Look, I can guarantee that every single noble here was taught practically from birth that they were better than everypony else. I was taught the exact same thing. But my parents also taught me that superiority comes with a cost. Because of the benefits I was born with, I’m obligated to be respectful to my lessers.”

“Noblesse oblige,” Emberglow said softly.

“Yeah, that’s the term my mother used,” Lofty shook his head. “But it’s garbage. The whole idea is rotten. The Saints don’t ask us to be kind and generous because of some obligation, the Saints ask us to be kind and generous because it’s the right thing to do. We’re supposed to behave well because we want to, not because of some stupid rule in a language I don’t even know.”

“Prench, I think. One of the dead languages,” Emberglow supplied. Lofty rolled his eyes.

“Not the point, but you get what I mean,” he said. Emberglow nodded. “But sometimes it’s not enough. Wanting to be kind is not enough, and I find myself thinking things, saying things, condescending to ponies, wondering ‘what can this mare or this stallion do for my social standing’ and other stuff like that.”

“I guess… nopony’s perfect,” Emberglow said, sighing. “But you are kind, and patient, and genuine. You’re not like them. No matter what you think of yourself, you’re trying. That’s what matters, right?”

The two ponies looked at each other, then down at their trays, silently, their heads momentarily bowed by the weight of their own imperfections. Emberglow pawed at her salad for a moment.

“What do you think is going to happen next?” she asked.

“Hopefully? Green Fields washes your sheets, and then realizes foalish pranks aren’t worth it. She goes back to mocking you in class, which you ignore, and we have plenty of time to get you into fighting shape.”

“But what if…”

“Nope. We’re not going down that path. Emberglow, you’re strong. You’ve been putting up with their crap for months now, and you’ll be able to put up with whatever else they throw at you. Trust me, it will all be fine.” Emberglow’s eyes misted over at the sincere compliment, and she wordlessly leaned over to hug her friend.

After lunch, the class reported to Rune Magic, where a dour, black furred pegasus named Sir Sablebeard droned on about runes and rune theory. Until they began learning the real practical elements of spellcasting, the class was frighteningly boring. It didn’t help that Sir Sablebeard never asked any questions, nor invited student participation. There were a few, such as Lofty Tale, who were trying desperately to pay attention, though most students simply zoned out for the duration.

As the students blearily woke up and filtered out of the classroom at the end of the hour-long instruction period, Emberglow was a little surprised to see Green Fields waiting for them all. She was seething, her face a twisted painting of rage. Her hooves were pruney and wrinkly from having had to hoof-wash Emberglow’s sheets. Emberglow tried to give her a sympathetic look, but Green Fields brushed right past her, ramming her painfully with a shoulder as she walked over to Astrolabe and her other friends. There was a muttered conversation, which Emberglow tried to ignore.

“Don’t worry about it. This will blow over, she’ll realize there’s no point in retaliation if the instructors know what’s going on,” Lofty said.

The rest of the week did go as peacefully as Lofty had predicted. There were no more incidents; no more foul or sticky substances smeared in Emberglow’s sheets or robes, and no more bullying; at least none that left any sort of physical evidence. With Green Fields spending much of her time sulking and staring at Emberglow with murderous eyes, Astrolabe had begun to hesitatingly take up the torch of the passive aggressive verbal bullying, which was fine for Emberglow. Other ponies still joined in, but a few words were much easier to deal with than the vandalism.

Sparring with Lofty was a blessing from the Diarchs. While she would never be a genius in combat, with the focused help of her friend she was managing to at least avoid tripping over her feet.

The lessons with Lady Amaranth still included the griffon mercenary, Adorjan. In a few days, Emberglow had managed to increase her time from three seconds to a not nearly as embarrassing thirty five, even as Lofty had finally broken the three minute mark.

Lofty was also coming along nicely in memorizing runes; he had long ago left the bottom of the class behind and was treading water somewhere in the middle. Emberglow thought perhaps that the earth pony stallion was not the only pony struggling to make sense of that class.

When the weekend arrived, Emberglow was more than ready for two days off to visit with her parents, and meet with Sir Steadfast. Her mentor always had insights into what was going on, and there was a lot to unpack from this week. She knew he would want to see her as soon as the students were released Saturday morning, then she could go home to her parents until Sunday evening.

When joining Knight training, each pony was allowed to bring a single personal item, a sentimental one. Emberglow had chosen to bring her beloved dress, the gift from her parents so many years ago. It had been altered twice, to fit her growing form, and it was still her most prized possession. She had lovingly donned the dress before her weekend excursion, knowing that her parents would appreciate the gesture of gratitude.

So it was with a bit of a prance in her step that she left the campus Saturday morning, making her way to the Star Shine Memorial Building. The same two older mares worked as secretaries at the front desk that had been working there when she had come for her very first interview with Sir Steadfast. She didn’t know them by name, but they knew each other by face, and the both of them smiled and waved as Emberglow walked past them and up the stairs to the third floor.

Sir Steadfast’s most recent squire was a mare named Nautilus Spiral. She was a serious-faced pegasus pony, with a severely styled black mane and yellow coat, working on joining the Knights Vigilant. Squires were always assigned to mentors outside of the order they intended to join, to get a different perspective on the other orders. Nautilus looked up when Emberglow entered.

“Hello,” the pony said without a smile. “He’s expecting you.” Emberglow waved her thank you, and entered the now-familiar office.

“Emberglow!” Sir Steadfast called out when she entered. “I’m very upset with you.” He was grinning as he said it, and stood to shake her hoof in greeting.

“Sir?” she asked, confused. He laughed as he gestured for her to sit on one of the pillows on the floor in front of his desk. She sat.

“You’ve turned my office into a hornet’s nest the last few days! Do you know how many visits I’ve had from curious Knights Radiant in the last week, asking about this mystery young mare looking to join them, who has already graduated from medical school?” Sir Steadfast shook his head in mock annoyance. “At least a dozen, maybe more!”

“Um, sorry?” Emberglow’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t be, I’m being silly. But still, you do realize that this puts the last nail in the coffin of my grand ambition, don’t you?”

“Your grand ambition, sir?”

“To convince you to switch sides, of course. To come over and join with me in the Knights Mystic. Now that the Radiant know how wonderful you are, they’re going to sink their claws in so deep we’ll never even have a chance,” Steadfast said, with a theatrical sigh of dismay. “Seriously though. I am curious what you might have done to catch Mercy Song’s attention.”

“I, uh, massively flubbed a combat training match and embarrassed myself in front of Lady Mercy, Lady Amaranth, and my entire class? And when Lady Amaranth took me aside to assign extra tutoring, she mentioned my other accomplishments. So, nothing really impressive.”

“’Massively flubbed’?” Sir Steadfast asked.

“As in, we were supposed to spar with this griffon mercenary in order to learn about fighting with unicorns and telekinesis, and I panicked, flopped on the ground, and… uh… yeah. I lasted three seconds.” Sir Steadfast raised his eyebrows at her silently, and she rubbed one hoof nervously against the other. “You’re probably not so convinced I’d make a good Knight Mystic now.”

The statement made him laugh out loud, a genuinely amused belly laugh that lasted nearly a minute.

“Oh, Emberglow, you would make an amazing Mystic, deficiencies with combat aside. We ponies aren’t made for combat, or war; the Diarchs didn’t design us for fighting. If they had, maybe we would have had claws and fire breath, like the dragons, or claws capable of effectively gripping weaponry, like minotaurs or griffons. We simply aren’t intended to be good at killing. The most important thing for a Knight Mystic is an inquisitive and sharp mind, and I’ve known you had one of those since you were twelve.”

“Well, thank you, sir,” Emberglow mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

“At least it’s good to know why so many Knights Radiant have been beating down my door recently. All joking aside, I’m proud of you, Emberglow. You say you’re receiving extra tutoring for your martial arts classes?”

“A friend of mine is helping me, yeah,” she replied.

“May I ask who?”

“Lofty Tale is his name. He’s actually quite good, I’ve improved quite a bit,” Emberglow said.

Their conversation continued, with Emberglow updating her mentor on every aspect of her Knight training. She wasn’t sure if all sponsorship ponies had interviews this involved with the Knight paying their tuition, but she didn’t mind it at all. Sir Steadfast was her inspiration for joining the Knighthood, after all, and having his insight and advice into her daily activities was a valuable resource.

“There was one more thing I wanted to ask you,” she ventured carefully. She felt like it was a bit of a risk to bring up this last point, but she really wanted to know what he thought. “Before I moved into the dorms, you warned me about some of the other students treating sponsorship students differently. You know, bullying and stuff like that.”

“Yes,” Sir Steadfast said, motioning for her to go on.

“If everypony… I mean, instructors and other Knights and such, know that this sort of thing goes on, why don’t they do anything to stop it?” Emberglow asked, intentionally keeping her queries vague.

“Hmm,” Sir Steadfast mused, scratching his chin idly with one hoof. “That’s a little bit of a complicated question. You do know that not everypony graduates from the Ivy Seminary. There are washouts, expulsions, and ponies that just aren’t strong enough.”

“Yes, of course. We’ve had the odd few leave already,” Emberglow said.

“Some ponies believe that everything you do, every waking and sleeping moment, should be a test. A chance to see how you react to different pressures and situations. Those Knights would believe that to complain about harsh treatment from other students would be a sign of weakness, or unworthiness.” Sir Steadfast’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned over his desk to look intently at Emberglow. She nearly shrank away from his suddenly intimidating presence. “I am not one of those ponies. And neither is Lady Amaranth.”

“Sir?” Emberglow asked, confused. Did that mean he knew about what was going on at the school?

“She spoke with me, a few days ago,” Sir Steadfast said. He held up a hoof to forestall the question Emberglow was about to ask. “She didn’t tell me anything, really, only that you were doing very well in most of your classes, you needed extra help in one, and some… unplanned extra chores were getting in the way of your necessary tutoring. Neither I nor Lady Amaranth believe you should be subjected to different treatment because you are a sponsored student. I won’t give you an order, Emberglow, but I am asking you to keep Lady Amaranth informed of what is happening. She’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Yes, sir. But what if…” she hesitated. She didn’t want to name Green Fields out loud; the mare already hated her enough. “What if it escalates? In retaliation for… consequences that already got leveled?”

“It very well might escalate. But Lady Amaranth is watching out for you, and I’ll ask you to tell her if things get worse. Will you do that for me? Then she or I will deal with the situation.”

“Yes sir,” Emberglow breathed, suddenly feeling a little better.

“Now, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Go and see those proud parents of yours. I’m sure they’re as excited to see you as you are to see them.”

“Yes sir!” Emberglow cheered, and stood. With a happy wave goodbye, she left Sir Steadfast’s office in high spirits. Her chats with him always made her feel good.

Emberglow’s parents were, of course, ecstatic to see her. She only got to visit one weekend a month, after all. They wanted to close up shop for her, but she insisted on at least a little normalcy, so they allowed her to help them run the shop while the three of them chatted about her life, and recent developments at the school. She kept away from any mention of bullying.

The weekend passed far too quickly for Emberglow’s tastes, and soon enough she was heading back to the dorms after kissing her parents both goodbye for another month. She chose to fly this time; the air was cooling as the sun set and she wanted to feel it in her wings. Emberglow never flew too high; for some reason, using her Diarchs-given feathery gifts always felt like an act of arrogance to her. But tonight she wanted to indulge, just a little.

Many of the other students were trotting or flying into campus at the same time; Emberglow called out to Lofty Tale and waved cheerily as she flew over his head, and ignored the angry glare of a certain earth pony mare (who seemed to have recovered from her bad case of pruney hooves). There was nothing other than curfew and lights out call for that night, so she quickly changed out of her dress before crawling into her bed.

Her dream that night was a pleasant one; Emberglow frequently didn’t remember her dreams, but this night was an exception. She was flying through a cloudy sky at night, with the moon glowing behind her. The moon felt… happy, somehow, in a way that reminded her of her mother’s warm embrace. Emberglow flitted from cloud to cloud, trying to hide from the moon, like a foal playing hide and seek. Each time the light shone on her giggling, foalish face, she felt a surge of love and affection. She woke up feeling more than well rested.

The next few days felt different to Emberglow. While the verbal bullying continued, she noticed that several of her usual tormentors were being cautious about their vitriol, especially Green Fields. Nopony said anything when there was even a chance of an instructor overhearing, though the number of furious glares she got from Green Fields magnified dramatically. Any time she was speaking or walking with Lofty, the high-class mare would be trying to execute her with her expression.

Lady Amaranth’s class was becoming more and more complicated, and Emberglow was just barely keeping up, even with Lofty’s tutoring. Lady Amaranth had taken away the buckler in their bouts with Adorjan, and now they were required to fight against the griffon with a weapon of their choice. The goal of the match was now to get the shortest time; time would stop when the pony struck the mercenary creature, rather than the other way around, or when it hit five minutes. That left the rest of the time open for Adorjan to hit the ponies as many times as he wanted; Lady Amaranth had said his bonus was a half bit for every strike. Adorjan had walked away from that lesson a very rich griffin; only a hoof full of ponies had managed to strike him before the time was up.

The coming Saturday was a service weekend. Knights from all five orders who needed extra hooves, or help with some minor task or chore, could come glean from pages looking to impress their instructors. Many Knights didn’t even bother; it was usually too much of a hassle when they could simply rely on hired hooves for whatever they needed doing. But others saw it as a learning opportunity, and willingly came to the school to give pages a chance to serve. The students would meet in the cafeteria, waiting as Knights who needed tasks done would come in and ask for volunteers, after describing the task at hand.

Emberglow and Lofty sat next to each other in the cafeteria, waiting for the Knights to come offer service jobs. She was gratified to see Lady Mercy Song among the group that came in looking for pages to work.

“I am Knight Bolide Bright, of the Adamant. I need five pages to come help with some manual labor. We are reconstructing the training and jousting field at the Exalted Sky, our headquarters here in New Canterlot City,” the first knight, a golden colored pegasus stallion wearing the sky-blue robes of the Adamant. A dozen hooves shot into the air, and Sir Bolide selected five of them, instructing them to follow him. Even though manual labor didn’t sound fun, the Adamant was by far the most popular order, and many students would be interested at the chance to not only impress the martial ponies, but also get an inside look at their headquarters. Besides, whoever didn’t volunteer here would be stuck at the school doing the same boring chores they’d done the last few weeks.

The next Knight stepped up. “I am Knight Red Vine, of the Vigilant. My scribe is ill, and I need a page with very excellent hoofwriting to come take notes on the cases I will be hearing today. You must have a fine eye for detail and be able to take diction quickly.” Some few less ponies volunteered for this one. Emberglow would have, had she not made prior arrangements with Lady Mercy. Sir Red Vine had a word with Sir Heavenseeker, the Knight who was overseeing the volunteers, who helped him select the candidate who was closest to his requirements.

“You could have done that,” Emberglow whispered at Lofty, who chuckled silently. “You have excellent hoofwriting.”

“Hmm, being stuck in a room taking dictation from a grandpa pony all day? I’d rather scrub toilets,” he muttered back. Emberglow laughed softly as Lady Mercy Song stepped forward.

“I have already made arrangements with my volunteer,” she told Sir Heavenseeker. “Emberglow?”

“Have fun,” Lofty said, patting her on the shoulder with a hoof as she stood. “Tell me all about it when you get back.”

“Of course,” she said, trotting to where the Knight Radiant was waiting. The regal-looking pony was not wearing her armor this time, instead having chosen to dress simply in the white robes of her order.

“Somepony thinks she’s special,” a muttered voice came from the assembled ponies, and Emberglow’s ears twitched unconsciously. She didn’t turn to look and see who had spoken, though, forcing herself to hold her head high as she left the cafeteria behind Lady Mercy Song.

“Good morning, my little pony,” Lady Mercy said, as soon as they had exited the cafeteria. “Are you well rested?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow replied cheerfully. “What are we doing today?”

“Walking in the Saint’s footsteps, Emberglow,” Lady Mercy said cryptically, with a smile. The two of them left the grounds of the Seminary and trotted towards the center of the Temple District. Emberglow waited patiently for Lady Mercy to fill in more details. “Tell me, young Emberglow. What was Lady Rarity known for?”

This was a trick question. The common lay pony would say something like, ‘healing magic’. Indeed, the thing the Knights Radiant were most known for was their prowess with rune spells that healed wounds, cleansed disease, and promoted physical health and welfare. But that wasn’t the answer Lady Mercy was looking for.

“Her generosity, Lady Mercy,” Emberglow said. Lady Mercy nodded.

“Lady Rarity would give of her time and talents to anypony. Though this often involved magical healing of some kind, that wasn’t always the case. She was, after all, the pony who tried to clothe the world and teach the ignorant about the shame of nudity. So while we Radiant are responsible for healing magic, that is only a small part of what we do.” The larger pony stopped, and turned to look at Emberglow. “The task we are working on today is a difficult one. It may require you to have a thick hide, and be able to ignore cruel or hateful things that are said to you. Do you think you can manage that?”

Emberglow nearly laughed. Manage something that had literally been the status quo of her life for the last three months?

“I think I’ll be okay, my lady. Whatever you require of me,” Emberglow answered. She followed Lady Mercy out of the campus and into the street, where the two of them made their way towards the Hall of the Upright, the headquarters of the Knights Vigilant.

“Who is deserving of Lady Rarity’s generosity, Emberglow?” Lady Mercy Song asked suddenly. It sounded like a rhetorical question, the beginning of a discussion. It was very similar to how Sir Heavenseeker began several of his class discussions. Emberglow wondered if Lady Mercy had studied under the historian, as well.

“Everypony, I think,” Emberglow said, with some hesitation. She wasn’t sure where the older mare was going with this. The two of them walked past the pillories, where a great number of ponies were suffering for various crimes and offenses. Emberglow tried not to look; there were two kinds of ponies in New Canterlot City when it came to public humiliation, those who relished in the pain and shame of their fellow ponies, and those who tried to ignore them. Emberglow didn’t see the need to glory in another pony’s mistakes, or their punishment.

“Even these ponies?” Lady Mercy Song asked, gesturing with one hoof towards the suffering criminals, bent awkwardly in the pillories.

“I guess it would depend on what you mean by Saint Rarity’s generosity,” Emberglow answered. “But all ponies are deserving of kindness and dignity, though they should not be sheltered from the consequences of their actions.”

“True. Have you ever been to a criminal trial, Emberglow?”

“Never, my lady.”

“When a pony is accused of a crime, the Knights Vigilant gather evidence to prove that pony’s guilt. But the Radiant have a role to play in trials, as well. We are there to assure that the voice of mercy is heard. We do not seek to absolve the guilty of responsibility, but we are present at trial to be the voice of gentleness and kindness. As healers, we are also there to ensure the punishment received by the guilty only goes as far as is allowed by law, and no farther. It is a holy task.” The two of them reached the Justice building, and walked inside.

The Hall of the Upright was both like and unlike the headquarters of the Mystics, a building Emberglow was much more familiar with. Like the Star Shine Memorial building, the Hall had clearly been built to impress; large stone blocks, much bigger than even the strongest earth pony could manage by him or herself, made up the walls. The ceilings were domed, but where the inquisition building was built to look like a fortress, the Hall of the Upright was much more decorative. The domes in the ceiling were made of stained glass, each one a picture of beauty. Emberglow looked up to see the sun illuminating each scene from above; one was an illustration of the time Saint Applejack and Saint Fluttershy had saved the entire city of Las Pegasus by exposing the vile dictator who had enslaved them. Another contained an image of the orange Saint harvesting apples on her farm. A third was an image of all six Saints, joined hoof and hoof in a circle around the dome, wearing their fabled relic necklaces (or crown, in the case of Saint Twilight Sparkle). Each one cast its own rainbow of patterns on the polished stone floors.

While Emberglow was used to the bustle of the inquisition building, the Hall of the Upright seemed much quieter. Ponies were moving quickly back and forth, many carrying papers or briefcases, but there was a solemnity to their business that was absent in the other order’s headquarters. There were several ponies dressed in the orange robes of the Knights Vigilant, and even a few wearing their armor.

“Did you know the Hall of the Upright has a kitchen?” Lady Mercy asked as Emberglow followed her to a staircase descending into the basement. “They provide all the meals for the various judges who sit on cases in the building, as well as the investigators, the secretaries, scribes, janitors, and staff. Diamond Home doesn’t even have a kitchen,” she muttered, her voice falling a bit as she mentioned the significantly smaller headquarters of the Knights Radiant. “We have to bring our own lunches if we’re working at headquarters.” The stairs turned into a hallway heading off to the left and right, and Lady Mercy Song turned left, where Emberglow could hear the sounds of kitchen activity; metal utensils clicking off each other, pans being stirred, and ceramic bowls being filled. Emberglow could smell the various things being cooked. It hadn’t been long since she had eaten breakfast, but she inhaled deeply what smelled like stew being cooked by the Vigilants’ servants.

The kitchen was twice again as large as the kitchen at the campus. There were at least a dozen ponies working over stoves, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, or tossing salads. All were dressed in similar white pants and shirts, with aprons stained cheerfully with the literal fruits of the chefs’ labors. The head chef, identified by the crown-like towering white cloth hat on his head, acknowledged Lady Mercy with a wave when she came in.

“You brought a helper?” the tall earth pony asked Lady Mercy as she walked over. The Knight nodded. “Good. There’s over a dozen out there today. Will be all weekend, I hear; most of the wretches are there for at least three days. Your pots are ready, Lady.” He guided them over to two modified pack saddles sitting alongside one of the walls. On each side of the packsaddle was a large metal pot, with a lid. The insides of the pack saddles appeared heavily padded.

“Let me help you two with those,” the chef said, as he lifted one of the saddles onto Lady Mercy’s back, helping her tighten the straps. “Now the little one,” he said as he moved on to Emberglow, who, with a nod from Lady Mercy, stood still while the earth pony put the packsaddle on. “I didn’t mush your wings, did I? They feel comfortable? Sorry, I don’t put many packsaddles on pegasi.”

“They’re fine, thanks,” Emberglow said. In truth, they felt a little constricted, but she had never much struggled with the claustrophobia that sometimes struck pegasi who had their wings bound in any way. She wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Good. Come over here, the broth and ladles are ready for you,” the chef said. Over on the largest of the stoves were two huge stock pots, filled with a wonderful smelling broth. Very carefully, the chef took the lids off the smaller pots of the modified packsaddles, and with a large soup ladle, filled all four pots on both pony’s backs with warm broth. Now Emberglow understood the additional padding; it was insulation to keep the pots from being too hot on the wearer’s sides. Soon enough the pots were full of broth, and the chef attached a ladle and a large bowl to two small hooks on the sides of the packsaddles.

“You’re good to go. Go bring holy sustenance to the criminal scum, my Ladies,” the chef said with a wave, and Lady Mercy inclined her head politely.

“That’s what we’re doing? Feeding the criminals?” Emberglow asked. She wasn’t shocked, but it was something she hadn’t thought about before; ponies who committed crimes were sometimes sentenced to days in the pillory, of course they would need to be fed something, if only to stave off dehydration.

“Yes. Now Emberglow, you’ve been medically trained. You know the symptoms of common ailments like dehydration, heat stroke, hyperthermia, shock, and other maladies?”

“Yes, my lady,” Emberglow said. Lady Mercy nodded.

“Good. Be aware of their condition as you feed them. But feeding isn’t the only thing we’re there to do. We’re also there to listen.”

“Listen?” Emberglow asked.

“Yes, to listen, and nothing more. The convicted prisoners being punished are not allowed a confessor during their time of punishment, but we in the Radiant believe that speaking to another pony can help them unburden their soul of their sins. They don’t even need to speak of their crimes; simply because they have been convicted does not mean they should be deprived of companionship. We are truly walking in Lady Rarity’s footsteps, today.”

“But, Lady Mercy, what do I say to these ponies?” Emberglow asked nervously.

“Not much. You ask if they wish to speak, and then you listen. Ask questions about what they want to talk about, and don’t ask about their crimes unless they wish to speak on the subject. If they wish silence, do not speak. Do not, under any circumstances, say your own name or any details about who you are or your life. This is for them to speak about themselves, let them do most of the talking, and you’ll do just fine,” Lady Mercy said. “You must steel yourself, however. Some ponies blame everypony except themselves for the consequences their own choices have brought them. They may lash out with anger or bitterness. You must rise above it; they are not truly angry at you, but at themselves for their own failings. You mustn’t let anything anypony says here bother you.”

“Yes, Lady Mercy. And how am I supposed to serve each pony?”

“You have a ladle and a bowl. Each prisoner may have one bowlful, then when you are done, you move on to the next pony. If any pony wishes to speak, we will spend time after each one has eaten to speak with them. Some ponies in the crowd may heckle you as well, for what you’re doing. Ignore them.”

“Yes, my lady. Like Saint Rarity ignoring the jeers and criticism when she said each pony should be clothed.”

“Just so,” Lady Mercy said with a smile. “Now let’s go, my little pony.”

Once they left the Hall of the Upright, Emberglow paid a little closer attention to the ponies in the pillories. There were thirteen of them, a fairly even mix of mares and stallions, with two Knights in Vigilant orange armor watching over them. The ponies varied in age, with one mare being wrinkled and greying, to a colt young enough that he had to be placed on a wooden crate in order to be tall enough to be locked in the pillory. The only other oddity was that one stallion had been fitted with a muzzle, a tight cage of wire that went around his entire snout to prevent him from speaking.

“You begin on the north side, I’ll begin on the south. If you need help, call on me or one of the Knights Vigilant on guard,” Lady Mercy Song said. “While you are feeding them, look for symptoms of dehydration or other issues.” The guards in question eyed them with a look that wasn’t quite hostile, but wasn’t quite friendly either. Emberglow squared her shoulders and moved towards the first prisoner, a pegasus mare with a tan coat and orange mane.

“Hello,” Emberglow said as she approached the obviously uncomfortable prisoner. The mare looked up at Emberglow with bright blue eyes, her expression pained, but said nothing. Emberglow detached the bowl from its hook, set it on the ground in front of the pilloried mare, and ladled it full of broth. When it was full, she lifted the bowl to the mare, holding it steady while began to lap up the meal with her tongue.

“Thank you,” the mare whispered, after she had taken a few mouthfuls. Emberglow nodded, but the mare said nothing more. She finished the bowl after a few minutes, and nodded at the young page, who took that as a dismissal. She moved on to the next prisoner, the young colt. He was small, but he looked only a few years younger than Emberglow, perhaps as young as twelve. She stopped in front of the colt, who refused to meet her eyes. She filled the bowl again, and lifted it to the colt. For a few agonizing seconds, the colt refused to eat; pain and humiliation were obvious in his gaze.

“Please, you need to eat,” Emberglow said, feeling a rush of compassion for the young stallion. She didn’t know why he was here, but there was no reason for him to compound his own suffering.

“I want to die,” he whispered to her, and Emberglow gave out a little gasp.

“No pain is forever,” she said with a smile. “You don’t need to hurt any more than you already are. Please?” she pleaded. Finally he lowered his head and began to lap at the broth. “Thank you.” She didn’t know why she was thanking him. He looked at her then, their eyes meeting for an instant, and he nodded his silent gratitude before finishing his meal. He also did not seem interested in speaking any more.

The third prisoner was a stallion, who looked up and smiled at Emberglow as she approached.

“Good afternoon, young lady,” he said. After the first two prisoners, Emberglow was a little surprised that he initiated the conversation.

“Hello,” she said. “Would you like some lunch?”

“Mmm, clear vegetable broth, my very favorite,” the stallion said. “Does it come with my choice of bread?” Emberglow laughed despite the situation, filling the bowl and raising it for the prisoner to eat. He was an adult, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He was the first that seemed interested in conversation, but Emberglow wasn’t sure how to begin.

“So...”

“Interesting that they’re letting pages feed us,” he said, clearly picking up on her awkwardness. “It’s usually full Knights.”

“You’re in the pillory often enough to know what is usual?” she asked. He nodded in between swallows.

“First and only time, actually, but this is my fourth day in this fine luxury resort. The service has been excellent, but the beds are a bit stiff and uncomfortable.”

“How can you joke? Do you not even take any of this seriously? Whatever you did to wind up here?” Emberglow asked honestly surprised at the prisoner’s flippant attitude.

“Young lady, everything is a joke. This pillory, these Knights, this entire country. It’s all one… big… joke. And us little ponies are the butt of it. It’s called gallows humor.”

“Gallows humor? But you’re not…” Emberglow gasped, suddenly realizing what the prisoner meant.

“Caught on, did you? Yup, I’m here until Monday, when they’re gonna take me into a dark room in the Justice building with a rope hanging from the ceiling and a trapdoor in the floor and break my neck. You’re talking to a dead pony, young lady.”

“Why?” Emberglow whispered, before she could stop herself.

“It all started so small, and innocently. I caught my little brother in bed with another colt. Intimately. The right thing to do would have been to turn him into the confessor, right? But I didn’t. He was my little brother. I loved him so much, we did everything together. He was my little brother best friend forever; how could I be the one responsible for ruining his life? So, instead of turning him in, we… talked.

“We talked about how he was born the way he was, it wasn’t a choice he had. We talked about how little sense it made that the Diarchs would make him that way, but order him to be abstinent. Why would they give us a law they had designed us to break? We talked about his love, his devotion, how much he cared for his coltfriend. How they wanted to spend a life together, be happy, have a family, raise foals… but were denied all of that. So I found a way to help them escape. We can’t trade letters, but as far as I know, he and his husband are living happily in the Free Zebrica Republic, now.

“But it wasn’t enough. I knew I could help others escape this nightmare. Did you know, if you wanted to just get up and leave the country, you can’t? It’s against the law? Sure, some escape, but there’s a law that stops any Equestrian from willingly emigrating to a foreign country. So I used the contacts I had made helping my brother and his husband to help others. Not just gay couples, but anypony who had doubts, anypony who had questions or issues with the Diarchy. Anypony that didn’t fit the cookie cutter mold they try to force us into. I’ve been doing this for ten years, young lady. They only caught me a few weeks ago.”

Emberglow’s jaw had dropped as she listened to the prisoner’s story. There had to be more to it than that, didn’t there? There was no way simple pony smuggling could wind up with an execution. It seemed… too much. She was sure he was lying.

“I see what you’re thinking. That’s fine. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I am glad you were willing to listen. Could you do me one favor, though?” Emberglow nodded cautiously, suspiciously.

“If I can,” she replied with hesitation.

“I want to tell you my name. The Diarchy wants us forgotten after we get executed. Our loved ones are encouraged to forget about us, to pretend we never existed. My parents disowned my brother a decade ago, and we haven’t spoken in five years. They’ll be more than happy to forget me. I’ll be a sack of rotting bones in an unmarked grave. But…”

“What is your name?” Emberglow whispered. The prisoner smiled.

“July Blaze, miss. There’s not going to be a headstone at my grave, and nopony will care that I’m gone. So if somepony could just remember my name, that would be nice. It would make going to my execution a little more palatable.”

“I’ll remember, July Blaze,” Emberglow said. July Blaze nodded, and smiled kindly at her.

“Sorry if I made you upset, miss. It was not my intention. Please, don’t let me keep you any longer,” he said.

“Um, it’s okay. Goodbye,” she said uncomfortably, not knowing what else to say. She picked up the bowl and moved on to the next prisoner.

The next unfortunate criminal was a pegasus stallion. She didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, but Emberglow was shaken by her conversation with July Blaze. She tried not to think as she ladled some broth into the bowl, holding it up for the pegasus in the pillory. Her eyes were distant, unfocused, as the pegasus leaned down wordlessly and began to lap up broth. She didn’t notice when he stored a large mouthful of the warm soup in his cheeks, then violently spat it at her.

Emberglow let out a little scream as she was drenched in the mixture of warm soup and saliva. She stumbled backwards, tripping and landing on her plot, the half full bowl. She could feel the soup sloshing in the pots on her back. The prisoner she was currently serving giggled, his mouth open lewdly, his tongue lolling out of his muzzle.

“Come back over here and I’ll lick it off,” he muttered at her. Emberglow felt sick; she stared horrified at the prisoner, not even noticing when one of the guards came near and violently cuffed the pegasus with her hoof on the side of his head. With a grunt, the prisoner slumped in the pillory, unconscious.

“Are you okay, miss? Did he hurt you?” the Knight Vigilant guard asked her solicitously. She reached out a hoof and helped Emberglow to her hooves.

“U-um, yeah, I’m okay. N-no, he didn’t hurt me. I’m f-fine,” Emberglow stammered, panting. The Knight produced a handkerchief from inside her armor and gently helped wipe the liquid from Emberglow’s face.”

“Is everything okay?” Lady Mercy said, coming over to check on the disturbance.

“This plothole was just trying to earn himself another few days in the pillory, is all,” the Knight Vigilant said. “Spat all over your young page here.”

“I’m fine,” Emberglow said, before Lady Mercy could ask. “I was just distracted when it happened, is all.”

“We can stop, Emberglow, if you need to,” Lady Mercy said.

“I really am okay, it was just a shock,” Emberglow said. “You told me I’d have to have a thick hide for this job, and I really do. I was honestly just distracted and got caught off guard. It won’t happen again.”

“Very well. I’ll leave you to it then, Emberglow,” Lady Mercy said, returning to the mare she had been feeding, but not before giving the Knight Vigilant guard a significant look, and a nod that passed between the two Knight mares. Emberglow took a few deep breaths to center herself, before moving on to the next prisoner.

The task took until well after lunch time, a fact that didn’t bother Emberglow in the slightest. After each pony was fed, many took the time to talk with Emberglow, though none were as disturbing as July Blaze. Emberglow wasn’t present when the guards had to remove the muzzle on the one stallion prisoner; Lady Mercy insisted on feeding him herself. Emberglow wondered how dangerous he really was while pilloried, but she didn’t spend much time thinking of it. When she ran out of soup and prisoners to feed, she took the packsaddle off and walked among the restrained prisoners, seeing if any others wanted to talk. She learned that the grandmother looking mare was indeed a grandmother, and was only here for a six hour stay with her grandfoal, the young colt she had served earlier. They were convicted of blasphemy; the young colt had accidentally spoken the name of one of the Diarchs aloud, and his grandmother, as the responsible adult, had insisted on sharing his punishment. It hurt, Emberglow realized. She felt pain for these poor ponies. Even though their own choices had led them here, she felt miserable that they had to go through it all.

Emberglow and Lady Mercy were still there when the guards, checking their pocket watches, trotted over and released the latches on the pillory holding the older grandmother and her young grandfoal. While there wasn’t always a Radiant on hand when a prisoner was released, Lady Mercy Song still insisted on being able to check over the two prisoners before they were escorted back into the Hall of the Upright to retrieve their own clothing and change out of the burlap prisoner uniforms they had been forced to wear in the pillory. Emberglow nearly wept with both relief and sadness when the colt had to be helped down from the wooden crate, stumbling on legs too stiff to hold his own weight.

It was with a hung head that she followed Lady Mercy Song back to the dormitories.

“Was it too much for you?” Lady Mercy asked, as they neared Emberglow’s new home. Emberglow shook her head.

“No. It was hard. Brutally hard. But somepony has to show them kindness, right? Otherwise, how could they have hope?” Emberglow said, having the epiphany as she spoke it out loud.

“’Generosity is the beginning of hope,’” Lady Mercy quoted. “’When we share love, we are never diminished’.”

“Yeah…” Emberglow said, recognizing the scripture reference. It was a quote from Saint Rarity.

“The most difficult kind of generosity requires sacrifice. Following truly in Lady Rarity’s hoofsteps often requires us to bleed for the ponies around us, sometimes metaphorically, like today, and sometimes literally. Remember that, young Emberglow.”

“I will, my lady,” she said. They paused at the doors to the dormitory. “Thank you so much for taking me today.” She truly meant what she said; though her eyes were still wet from unshed tears, she knew this was an experience she would treasure for years. “I’m willing to help next time, if you still want me.” Lady Mercy Song smiled at her, proudly.

“You will truly be one of the best of us, someday,” she whispered at the younger pony, reaching out with a hoof to gently touch Emberglow’s cheek and wipe away a tear. “Goodnight, Emberglow. All Saints keep you.”

Interlude: Dark Words Fly Across the Ocean

The sun was a complete plothole, Iodine Mark thought.

It didn’t matter that he’d been here in Zebrica almost ten years; no matter how long he lived here, no matter how acclimated he became, he would never be quite used to the intensity of the sun. Despite that, Iodine was nearly convinced that it was time to paint stripes on his flanks like so many of the other Equestrian expatriates living in Jubilation. It was a sign of going native, a full renunciation of one’s Diarchy heritage, and a common sight in the oasis city.

City was a pretty strong word for the port town of Jubilation; Iodine still remembered New Canterlot City, and was fairly certain that about two dozen of the zebra merchant hubs would have fit inside the grand, extravagant Diarchy capitol. Iodine didn’t care about the size, however. He loved Jubilation dearly, except for the Celestia-blasted sun!

Iodine had to admit he was becoming accustomed to the sun, even though he would never be as acclimated as a native. Indeed, he often saw native zebras looking sympathetically at his coat, the color of which had inspired his name. Its blue-black hue was quite handsome, at least according to his husband, but it didn’t do him many favors when the sun was beating down on them like some sort of hellish sky oven. He had quickly taken to wearing full body robes, made of white cloth, like several of the zebras. While it seemed ridiculous to wear more clothing when it got hotter, the white linen kept the sun from overheating his dark coat and literally killing him with heatstroke.

Iodine absolutely adored the Jubilation markets, the chaos, the bustle, and the cacophony of a half dozen different languages being shouted by a half dozen different kinds of creatures, all mixing together, flying about, arguing, greeting, bartering, insulting, complimenting, and living. It brought back distant memories of his life as a foal back in the Diarchy. His dad had been a high ranking bureaucrat, working for the civil government, and his mother had been a secretary for a confessor; they had never bothered to shop in an open air market, bartering like common ponies. They had shopped exclusively in high class boutiques and organic food cooperatives. They would never have been caught dead in such a bright and colorful place. Iodine could count cloth awnings and tarps, in at least a hundred different colors, covering dozens of stalls selling food, jewelry, pottery, books, and everything else under the sun.

The horrible, awful, evil, rude sun.

The sellers were just as varied as their wares. Most of them were zebras, but there were also plenty of ponies, griffins, a minotaur or two, and even a crystal pony, a creature so rare that Iodine had only ever met three. Zebra police officers, carrying rifles resting on their shoulders, patrolled the market, keeping the peace with mostly their presence alone. Iodine had to stop himself from flinching with fear when he saw the officers. It had taken years for Iodine to get used to the armed guards; the officers here were not the symbols of oppression and bigotry that the Knights back home had become.

Shaking himself from his reminiscence, Iodine moved towards a particular stall; he had errands to run, but breakfast came first.

“Iodine! My favorite ink blot! The usual?” a griffon hen called out to him from behind the table of her appetizing-smelling wares, her Ponish heavily accented. There was a mix of fresh baked scones laid out on trays set on hot pads, sitting on the covered wooden table. Behind the griffon was a wood-fired stone oven. Waves of heat, completely unbearable in this weather, blasted from the open end of the oven. Iodine couldn’t understand how the griffon could stand to be so close to the fire all day in this heat, but he also couldn't argue with the deliciousness of the scones she produced. Given the volume she sold, neither could anypony else.

“That depends, Brunhilda. Did you add meat this time?” he asked, with raised eyebrows.

“The pony insults me!” Brunhilda protested. “When have I ever added meat to my world famous griffon scones?”

“Last Tuesday. Three Saturdays ago. Last month, when you ‘accidentally’ ran out of nuts and raisins and made your mincemeat out of… ugh… real meat.” He shivered at the memory. He’d almost taken a bite before Brunhilda had confessed her trickery.

“It was a joke! I would never really…”

“Brunhilda, please don’t tease me. Just tell me if there’s meat-free scones today, so I can move on with my life. And my shopping trip,” Iodine sighed. The griffon rolled her eyes, being deprived of one of her favorite pastimes of tormenting the dark coated pony.

“No meat, Mister Iodine. Not today. I swear on my feathers and claws.”

“Well enough,” Iodine nodded. “I’ll take four. Two almond, two blueberry.” He handed over four bits, and Brunhilda handed him a paper sack, stuffed with his scones. He put the paper bag in his saddlebags.

“Tell your husband I said hello. And sorry for the teasing about bugs in his last scones. They were raisins, I swear.”

Iodine shook his head at the griffon hen, moving on to his next stops. He was looking for something special for his husband today. Their anniversary was coming up, and Iodine wanted to cook something amazing. He’d found an ancient copy of an old Prench cookbook in the market last week, and had been fascinated by something he had found inside called ‘ratatouille’. The ingredient list was simple enough. Iodine moved through the market, bargaining with various zebras and ponies for the eggplant, mushrooms, tomatoes, garlic, peppers, onions, and zucchinis he would need. The trip took only a half hour, before a new stall he’d never seen before caught his eye.

The pony running the stall was a crystal pony mare. She was light blue, with a smooth purple mane. She was wearing a gorgeous dress, horribly ill-suited to the heat and clearly marking her a newcomer. Her stall was made of brand new wood, and her wares were bolts of cloth, beautifully dyed. He approached out of curiosity.

“Good morning. Long life to the Empress, and her daughter,” he said formally to the crystal pony in greeting. She looked at him in surprise; Iodine Mark imagined it was rare for ponies to know the social cues and mores of other cultures besides their own. He had always believed it to be useful to learn as much about other cultures as he could, including traditional methods of greeting. He didn’t personally understand the crystal ponies’ religion, or how they seemed to worship their ‘Empress’ and ‘Princess’, while at the same time not worshiping them, but it often helped in bartering when you left a good impression on the merchant before the bargaining even began.

“You… you’re not a crystal pony,” she said, shocked, before appearing to realize her unintentional rudeness. “Oh, yes, and long life and warmth from the snows to you, as well.”

“I noticed you were new to the market. Is this your first time in Jubilation?” he asked, politely. The mare nodded.

“Yes, I recently arrived. The city is… not what I expected,” the mare said, then glanced at him with a panicked expression. “Not that this is a bad thing! It’s just hotter than I thought it would be.” He laughed at the sentiment, so similar to his own.

“You’re not wrong. I’ve lived here ten years, and I’ve never gotten used to it,” Iodine said. He held out his hoof for her to shake. “Iodine Mark. My husband Bolero and I live near the marketplace, so we’re here often.”

“I am Fine Thread. So you’re not a native? Husband…” She thought about that for a moment, then gasped. “Are you… a refugee from the Diarchy?” There was a kind of horrified fascination in her voice at the mention of the Crystal Empire’s southern neighbors.

“Not a refugee any longer, actually. Bolero and I are full citizens of the Republic. Their citizenship process is pretty gentle, especially for expatriates of the Diarchy.” He understood her confusion; the centuries-old magical barrier in place protecting the Empire from the Diarchy was as strong as it was mysterious; there was no traffic or communication between the neighbors, despite their physical proximity.

“Sorry if I offended,” Fine Thread said, her shoulders slumping.

“Not at all,” Iodine said gently. “So, what brings you to Jubilation?” The inquiry served to perk up the shy seeming mare.

“My sister is a cloth dyer, and we’re looking to expand into new markets. Like this one. So I volunteered to act as her seller in the Zebrican Republic. Today is my third day.”

“And how is business so far?” he asked, rifling through the bolts of cloth. He wasn’t idly browsing; Bolero had said they needed new curtains for when the autumn came, and the cool sea breezes became too uncomfortable for open windows.

“Wonderful! Everypony… er… every… uh… creature has been so nice,” she stammered, nervously stumbling over the terminology. “I’ve sold tons of bolts already. Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

“I need some material for new curtains, actually. And what kind of material is this?” he asked, his eyes drawn to a glistening, shimmering violet fabric.

“We call that Empire silk. It’s made from silkworms that live exclusively in the crystal berry plants that are native to the empire. It’s nice, right? But not good for curtains,” she replied.

“Yeah, I figured that. I was thinking more for a new house robe for my husband,” Iodine said, running his hooves over the material. Bolero would love the feel of it. Iodine would love to feel Bolero while wearing it… he shook his head before his imaginings could become too lewd, but not before Fine Thread noticed his blush and giggled. “How much would I need?”

The two ponies began haggling in earnest, and Iodine Mark realized that though Fine Thread was shy while interacting socially, she was a shrewd demon when it came to a bargain. No wonder she was doing well. After fifteen minutes of haggling back and forth, Iodine not only had enough material for their new curtains, but also enough Empire silk for two house robes, one violet and one a deep emerald that Fine Thread simply insisted would go amazingly with Iodine’s inky coat. He’d spent quite a bit more than he’d intended, but overall was quite pleased with his purchases. He dropped the cloth off at his favorite tailor shop before returning home with his fresh vegetables.

By the time Iodine got home, however, he felt like a mess. Even with his robes deliberately designed to stave off heat, he was practically lathered in a sweat. His single story home, constructed of adobe, had large open windows and wide roofs, specifically designed to invite as much breeze and shade as possible into the dwelling. He pushed the door open into the shaded interior and stepped through the front door into the kitchen of the home he shared with Bolero.

“Boo,” said a soft voice right at his ear.

Iodine couldn’t help himself; he launched into the air at least three inches, spinning to face the impishly grinning maw of his yellow-coated husband.

“You… you complete brat!” Iodine stammered mock indignantly, holding back a smile. He shook his hoof at his husband, and Bolero promptly caught the limb in his own hooves and kissed it. It instantly evaporated Iodine’s frustration at Bolero’s startling greeting, which was further alleviated when his husband began nuzzling him, their cheeks rubbing against each other in loving affection, before helping Iodine out of his saddlebags.

“You left before I woke up. Did you bring breakfast?”

“Brunhilda’s scones! They’re really blueberry this time,” Iodine promised. “I checked.”

“You are a sexy stallion,” Bolero purred as he retrieved the bag of breakfast from his husband’s saddlebags. He set the bag down on their kitchen table, leaning over to kiss Iodine on the cheek.

“Don’t, I’m all sweaty and gross,” Iodine mumbled, loving the feel of his lover’s lips on his coat. Bolero moved to nibble at his ear, giving it a teasing lick.

“I don’t mind sweat,” Bolero whispered, his hot breath teasing at Iodine’s sensitive ear, which flicked involuntarily. Bolero laughed, backing away for a moment. “There’s a letter for you on the table. It came from Golden Willow.”

Oh. That meant it was important. Golden Willow was a Knight Discordant, one of the freedom fighters who still worked in Equestria to undermine the Diarchy and the other Knight orders. Golden was a friend of his brother’s, and the only rare point of contact between Iodine and July Blaze. He moved over to the letter, inspecting it. It was marked only with his name, and sealed with a wax seal in the shape of a butterfly. Nervously, he broke the seal and unrolled the letter, scanning the brief note.

No. It was impossible. It was wrong. There was no way… the words became more and more blurry, before suddenly the letter was moved away from his hooves and he was buried in yellow fur, crushed against his lover and husband’s chest as Bolero held him.

“He could have come. He could have been safe. He could have lived here, with us. With me. Why did he stay? Celestia damn it, Bolero! Why did my brother have to be a bucking hero!?”

His hoof pounded against his husband’s chest as he sobbed, his body shaking as the other stallion held him tightly. Iodine could tell that Bolero was reading the brief note as well, and he could feel the other stallion’s sobs as Bolero also wept for Iodine’s big brother.

“Ten years, he’s been helping ponies like us,” Bolero said, his voice rough. “I’m sorry. I had no idea what the letter was. I wish…”

“Could we have done something? Said something to stop him, make him come over the ocean with us?” Iodine asked, and felt Bolero’s head shake.

“That’s not the kind of pony he was,” Bolero said. “You know the stallion he was. So brave. So noble.”

“The letter… it said he’d be buried in an unmarked grave. That’s… that’s not right. We need to do something. A memorial, or a shrine. My parents won’t give a buck, so we have to do something. Do you… do you mind?”

“A shrine to immortalize the hero who gave us our life together? Who made it possible for me to spend my life with my true love?” Bolero held out his husband, looking Iodine straight in the eye. “Why would I mind? I’m going to compose a song in his honor. No… an entire symphony. For as long as my music is played, nopony will ever forget the name July Blaze.” He kissed his husband firmly on the lips, and the two of them settled into a comforting embrace, weeping softly for the stallion they had lost forever.

Chapter 6

Recording of a Radio Free Equestria broadcast, taken 1109 AF. Listening to, recording, or possession of so-called ‘pirate radio’ broadcasts are to be considered an act of heresy and will be punished accordingly.

“Hello, folks, you’re listening to Radio Free Equestria, New Canterlot City’s best and only-est pirate radio station. I’m Cutting Wave, your resident heretic voice and all around friendly truth teller. We’re so glad you found the frequency, as it changes every time you listen! We’re here to bring you the Truth, only the Truth, with an extra helping of… you guessed it, folks… TRUTH.

“Tonight’s broadcast is gonna focus on the little cluster buck of a train wreck that was the broadcast of our ‘sister station’, EVOD one oh three point nine from two nights ago. Wow. Where do I even begin? Reeducation camp in Zebrica? What kind of messed up horseapples is that? Zebras don’t need anything the Diarchy has to offer, folks. In fact, we could probably use a lot of zebra education over here.

“And the village they captured? More horseapples. See, I just found out the facts, and turns out that the little ‘village’ our soldiers captured over there was nothing more than a half dozen zebras trying to caravan some expats to Jubilation. Doesn’t make it any less of a tragedy, folks, to have poor zebras being chained up by some colonialist bastards who wanna shove them in a torture camp somewhere, but it’s not really the big victory they're claiming.

"There were three ponies travelling with them, a mom, her daughter, and her daughter in law. Yup, one of those arrests. We have no idea where you are, Sunny Grain, Grape Soda, and Helix Swirl, but we’ll keep an eye out, and hope you can get away. If not, your names will go in the Book of Remembrance just like every other pony we know the damned Diarchy has tortured and murdered for being different.

“Second, what the buck were they talking about, capturing two Discordant? The big stallion says that it’s all fake. Want proof? That sort of thing would be all over the papers. Where are the pictures? Where are the public trials, the humiliation, the strait jackets and muzzles for the ‘dangerous heretic Knights’? You can bet your fuzzy butts that if the Diarchy really had captured a Discordant alive, they’d parade the sorry pony in front of literally everypony they could find.

“Last of all, that bit of horseapples about Shady Pine. Folks, Shady Pine wasn’t one of us. It’s too late now; the poor stallion’s already been black bagged. Nopony knows where he is. He wasn’t passing us information, who in the buck cares about ‘confessor’s secrets’? What was he passing, notes on which noblestallion is rutting which noblemare? Who cares? Besides, he wasn’t an agent anyways, he was just literally in the wrong place at the wrong time, and some incompetent Mystic plothole decided his superiors were getting impatient with his or her lack of progress on a case, looking for a real mole, so he just found some sort of scapegoat. It boils my blood. Well, Shady Pine’s going in the Book of Remembrance, too. Sorry it happened, sir. My condolences go out to his family, and if any of you are listening, please get out of the City. The further you are from the capital the safer.

“In other news, the big stallion says that recruitment to the Discordant is going better than ever. Last week seven more ponies joined the ranks of Equestria’s real protectors, and our well wishes and hopes go out with them. We’re still outnumbered a fifty to one, but we’ve got the Truth on our side, and TRUTH ALWAYS WINS. That’s it for our little broadcast tonight ponies, we hope you enjoyed yourselves, and as always, stay safe, stay low, and STAY AWAKE.

“The cipher for next week’s frequency will follow.”

1109 AF, Ivy Seminary, New Canterlot City

For some reason, Sir Sablebeard seemed annoyed at his students. Emberglow couldn’t understand why. After four months of teaching theory and memorization, he was now going to be teaching the pages the beginnings of basic rune casting.

She was sure there wasn’t a single page who had slept well last night; she herself had lain awake in anticipation for hours. The faculty seemed to understand what a momentous day this was, as well; when the sleepless ponies had shuffled in for their morning breakfast, several extra pots of coffee were already prepared for them. The other faculty members seemed to be at least partially as excited as the students; most of their classes had hinted at some sort of practical employment of rune magic. Lady Amaranth had said they would begin working on basic shield spells during their sparring, and Sir Heavenseeker had hinted that their final history project may need to be delivered via illusion spells, not a traditional essay. Only Sir Sablebeard had seemed grumpy about the whole thing when he had announced the class’ impending practical lesson with the tone a pony might use reading the obituary of a particularly boring slug.

Nopony seemed to notice, or even care, that there was one broken bulb in their otherwise glittering strand of cheerful, twinkling lights. Emberglow couldn’t even guess why Sir Sablebeard was so grumpy about practical instruction in his subject; wasn’t a working knowledge of runic spellcasting the end goal of his lessons? Oh well, it wasn’t as if his foul mood was going to change what they were learning about.

When Emberglow and the other students arrived at their first practical rune magic class, they found a small hinged wooden box on each desk. Sir Sablebeard sat at the front of the class, dressed in his own polished orange armor. While the chalkboard in his classroom was usually full of whatever runes he wanted to speak about that week, now there was only a single phrase. ‘DON’T TOUCH THE BOX UNTIL INSTRUCTED.’ It was a necessary sign; every pony in the room seemed to be chomping at the bit to see what was inside the mystery box. When it was time for class to begin, Sir Sablebeard addressed his students.

“Now as you all may have heard, the authorities at this school have determined that now is the time to begin your practical rune magic instruction,” Sir Sablebeard intoned. “Rune casting is a very precise and very delicate art. It takes will and focus. Amateurs and idiots are likely to make mistakes that will hurt themselves, or even destroy property.” He sighed. “Every year I try to get them to push back the date, and every year they say no. And every year, I have to patch up a giant hole in my wall, or scrape some poor pony’s innards off my ceiling. Since you lot are only as competent as everypony else I’ve ever trained, I expect to be sending at least three of you to the infirmary today. Just today! Saints above, please give me the time when it slows down to only one a week…” The instructor rubbed his forehead wearily with a hoof. “Maybe if just this once, everypony listens to me and follows my instructions WITH EXACTNESS, it won’t be one of you that I send to the Knights Radiant to put back together. Now. You may lift open the lids of your box. Only lift open the lids.”

Several of Emberglow’s classmates muttered impatiently at the rate Sablebeard was taking the class, but so far, every pony only opened the lids of their boxes. Emberglow opened her own box and peered in. Inside was a strange metal cube shaped apparatus with a cylindrical hole in the middle. The cube was attached via three cords wound together to what looked like a long, thin shoe. A cylinder, separate from the linked apparatus, also rested within the box.

“What you see before you is a basic rune casting gauntlet, attached to its power source. If any of you pages ever manage to make it out of training, your Knight armor will have one of these devices built into either your right or left hoof armor, depending on your preference. These larger, clumsier models are much less portable, but much cheaper to manufacture, making them ideal for instructing students. Keep in mind that cheaper doesn’t mean cheap; every single one of these units still costs enough to feed you for about three months. So be careful.

“Also in the box is a spell battery. Please carefully lift the spell battery out of the box. Do not drop it, and do not touch the gauntlet or the power source. You may rest the battery on your desk, gem side up.”

Having been at least partially cowed by Sir Sablebeard’s speech about scraping pony innards off the ceiling, each student very slowly lifted the spell battery out of the box with their hooves. Each battery was a cylinder, about as long as a pony’s ear, and the diameter of a bit coin. On one side were five gems; three of them were green, one was yellow, and the last was red. On the bottom of the cylinder were two narrow, short metal prongs. On Emberglow’s cylinder, the red and yellow gems were illuminated with a magical glow, while the green gems were dull and inert.

“Now, can anypony tell me what the gems indicate?” Sir Sablebeard asked. For a brief moment everypony stared at their instructor. He had never before asked anypony a question in his class; it had always been lecture and only lecture. “Well? You can’t all be asleep, I thought you ponies were excited for this.” Finally, a few hoofs rose hesitantly into the air, including Emberglow’s.

“You there, pink filly,” he said, pointing at Emberglow, and she realized with some surprise that Sir Sablebeard had never bothered to learn their names.

“Sir, the gems tell you how much magical energy is stored in the battery,” she said. She’d read the entire class textbook when it had become clear that Sir Sablebeard’s teaching methods were next to worthless for her.

“Do you know the proper terminology, or are you satisfied using unscientific language like ‘magical energy’?” he sneered. She nodded.

“Yes sir. Spells are powered by ‘motes’, a somewhat abstract unit of measurement that approximates the amount of energy required to cast a spell. While it is difficult to measure motes, it is possible to estimate and approximate them, and the batteries are designed to keep track of the amount of motic energy the battery has remaining.”

“…There might be some hope for you lot,” Sir Sablebeard said. “The pink pony is right. When you hold a spell battery, the lights on the outside are illuminated according to the approximate amount of motic energy that remains within the battery. The more motes that are used, the more lights dim and disappear. Green is for fuller batteries, and a battery in the red is nearly depleted. Over time, you will get a feel for which spells can be cast with how much motic energy.” He sighed. “Next question. How is a spell battery filled?” Several other hooves shot into the air, more quickly this time. Sir Sablebeard pointed at another student. “You there, green stallion.”

“The spell battery is filled over time, from the ambient magical… um… motic energy that permeates all of Equestria. Batteries can fill faster in some places than others.”

“Nice save, green stallion,” Sir Sablebeard noted with narrowed eyes. “He is correct. The time frame for filling a spell battery is fairly long; a completely empty battery the size of the ones in your hooves can take as much as a month to fill. Always remember: motic energy is a resource to be used sparingly, and only when needed. Magic is not for frivolous uses or silliness.”

“Now, please very carefully remove the power source and gauntlet from the box. Do not put it on yet. Each of you will decide which hoof to attach your gauntlet to; choose your dominant hoof, the one you use primarily to eat or write. Carefully loosen the buckles so you will be able to attach the gauntlet, and move the empty box off your desk carefully underneath, and out of the way.”

Emberglow could feel the collective groan building from all the students at the overly detailed, overly cautious instruction method. She felt her own impatience bubbling, boiling just below the surface of her thoughts as she picked up the gauntlet and power source, loosening the buckles as instructed.

“Now, place your chosen hoof in the gauntlet and tighten the buckles. If you can’t see how, I will be over to assist you. The spell gauntlets are not powered just yet, but they are expensive, so please be careful. Also, though I realize you ponies may not think it, I do care about your safety and wellbeing, more than any other concern here today. If at any point in time I say ‘stop, hooves on desk’, I need everypony to rest their gauntleted hoof on their desk and not move it until I give permission. Are we understood?”

A unison chorus of ‘yes sir’ floated through the classroom. Emberglow looked at the arrangement of the two buckles on the gauntlet. It would be easy enough to don. She slid her hoof into the apparatus, feeling the padded interior shielding her hoof from the metallic shell.

“Now, as you have heard from me before, if you bothered to listen, spellcasting takes willpower, concentration, focus, and intent. Because of the wonders of rune magic, the intent of a spell comes automatically, supplied by the runes we choose to draw. While we are casting the same spells that a unicorn could with his or her horn, we do not have to shape the spell with our own intentions. This means that there is no chance of a rune spell getting out of control in unexpected or unfortunate ways. This doesn’t preclude a miscast; using incorrect or improperly drawn runes can still result in unfortunate magical occurrences.

“We do have to worry about willpower, concentration, and focus. Lose your concentration on a spell, and the motic energy simply dissipates, lost forever. Lose your focus and you may draw the runes incorrectly, causing a spell failure, or perhaps even a disastrous miscast. Willpower is simply the mental command for the spell to shape itself, and complete. If you do not will a spell into effect, no amount of rune drawing will create a result. It may seem obvious, but you have to intentionally cast a spell in order for it to work.”

Sir Sablebeard walked over to the chalkboard, erasing the warning from earlier. He wrote three runes on the board; it was a combination nopony in the room had ever seen before, though they had memorized the individual runes in class weeks previous.

“I am writing a simple spell on the board right now. It is a completely worthless spell; it will do nearly nothing, other than summoning a coin-sized magical orb the color of your manes, floating in the air above you. It doesn’t even shed light, and the orb will pop like a soap bubble if touched. It has been designed merely as a safe way for beginners to practice rune magic. Take a moment to look at the runes, think about them, then lift your gauntleted hoof in the air and practice writing them in front of you.

“But sir, without the battery inserted nothing will happen,” one of the students complained. Sir Sablebeard glared at him.

“That’s the point. Now do as I said.”

Emberglow imagined that all the pages felt just as ridiculous as she did, waving their hooves worthlessly in the air in front of them in a vague pattern. Sir Sablebeard wandered around the classroom, watching their efforts with a stern look, correcting sloppy rune drawing when he could catch it. After about ten silly minutes of this, Sir Sablebeard had made his way to the front of the class.

“Now everypony stop,” he said, and the students complied. “Very carefully, with your free hoof, insert your battery prong-side down into the power source. A latch on the power source will secure the battery in place. Do not move your gauntleted hoof just yet.”

With a little trepidation, Emberglow picked up the battery and inserted it into the power source. She found the latch and flipped it over, securing the battery in place. It felt a little awkward to do all this one-hoofed, and with her left hoof even, but she was determined to follow instructions strictly.

“Very well. Now that we’ve…”

Sir Sablebeard was interrupted by a loud explosion, followed by a scream and a crash. Dust filled the room as a pony in the back of the class was thrown violently against the wall, her gauntlet cords ripped forcibly out of the power source as the pony they were attached to was catapulted across the room.

“Stop! Hooves on desk!” Sir Sablebeard called out loudly but calmly as he ran over to the downed student. It was Astrolabe. She was moving, moaning and coughing as she shifted on the pile of paint chips and masonry on the floor. The wall was intact, but there was a sizeable dent left where the mare had impacted. “Purple pony, are you okay?” Astrolabe moaned, and Sir Sablebeard quickly lifted his hoof, drawing three runes in the air.

“You have no broken bones, but a minor concussion. Somepony willing to walk purple pony here to the infirmary?” Nopony seemed to want to miss their first chance at practical rune casting, so the room was silent for a moment. Emberglow nearly raised her hoof; somepony had to do it, even if Astrolabe was an evil witch. But just as her hoof started to twitch, Green Fields spoke up.

“I’ll walk her down, sir,” Green Fields volunteered.

“Good, thank you, light green pony. Be sure to remove your gauntlet, some other student will put it away if you don’t get back in time. See if the nurses will send somepony down so that they’re immediately on hand if something happens again. It always does,” Sir Sablebeard said with a resigned sigh.

Green Fields rushed over to her friend and helped Astrolabe stumble shakily to her hooves. Once they were gone, Sir Sablebeard addressed the class.

“Now, does anypony know what happened?” He was met with blank stares to his query. He nodded. “I didn’t see the event myself, but I’ve been teaching ponies like you for decades, so I can guess. Your rune gauntlet is activated by will. That means, when you choose to turn it on, it turns on. It’s like a light switch in your brain; you have to consciously decide to start writing, otherwise the gauntlet is like an expensive metal sock. My guess is that purple pony was thinking about rune casting so much that she accidentally activated the gauntlet and miscast a spell, which caused a small explosion.”

Small explosion? The classroom erupted in whispered murmurs, each pony suitably awed and a little frightened at the dangerous tools they had strapped to their hooves. Almost two dozen sets of ears were firmly pointed at their teacher now, though several pairs of eyes kept drifting over to the pony-sized dent in the wall.

“Now, somepony will be by to fix the wall later, so we needn’t be too concerned about that for now. We’ll start off with a demonstration.” Sir Sablebeard lifted his hoof, and like before, began writing a rune in midair. As he wrote, the tip of the gauntlet’s hoof glowed, trailing soft white light. The students’ gazes were fixed on the gentle glow as it formed the same runes that Sir Sablebeard had written on the board. As soon as all three runes were written in the air, they hovered for a split second before disappearing. An instant later, a small black orb, the size of a coin, appeared in the air above Sir Sablebeard’s head.

“For those of you who care about history, this spell is called Star Shine’s Training Orb. It has been literally used for centuries to train would-be Knights such as yourselves. Now, we’re not going to try all at once, because there’s just too many of you to keep an eye on at the same time. So, we’ll do it by desk columns. You five are up first,” he motioned to the first column of desks, and five nervous ponies looked up. “Lift your gauntlets, will them on, and write the runes on the board. ONLY the runes on the board.”

Emberglow could see a few nervous gulps as the ponies did as he asked. Each pony wrote much more slowly than Sir Sablebeard, but soon enough five sets of glowing white runes appeared in the air in front of the five ponies. When they were done, however, only three colorful orbs appeared in the air above their heads.

“You two,” Sir Sablebeard said to the ponies who had failed the spell as they looked above their heads with confusion. “Did you become distracted? Lose focus on what you were doing?” He was given two nervously ashamed nods. “Try again, just you two. And remember, if you get distracted, the spell will probably fail to shape.” The two of them tried again, and one blue orb appeared in over one of their heads. The last pony finally managed on his third try.

“Very good. Next column,” Sir Sablebeard said, moving to the column that included Lofty Tale in its front. Lofty looked terrified.

“You got this,” Emberglow said softly. Lofty nodded, but didn’t look her way, his ears pinned back and his eyes locked on the tip of his gauntlet.

“Begin,” Sir Sablebeard said, and the next group of ponies lifted their hooves in the air and began to draw. This time three of the four ponies in this column managed the small colored sphere above their heads; Lofty was the only pony who had to go a second time. Blushing at the embarrassment at having singled himself out, he hesitated before lifting his gauntlet a second time.

“Just do it, boy,” Sir Sablebeard almost growled. Shakily, Lofty nodded and began to write, the white glow appearing before him in the air. Soon enough, a black orb appeared in the air above Lofty Tale. Emberglow couldn’t help herself; she clapped her hooves together for her friend. Nopony else applauded, though, so Emberglow stopped after a moment, a little embarrassed. It was all worth it when Lofty grinned at her, though.

“Congratulations, you’re all vaguely competent,” Sir Sablebeard announced blandly. “Moving on.”

When Sir Sablebeard moved in front of her group, Emberglow didn’t feel nervous, she felt elated. She looked over at Lofty, who was wearing an encouraging smile, and smiled back.

“Begin,” Sir Sablebeard commanded. Emberglow thought about her gauntlet. Just like Sir Sablebeard had said, she willed it to begin working. She immediately recognized that the analogy of a light switch was a good one; as soon as she had focused her thoughts into the gauntlet, she could feel it come to life. It wasn’t a pulse or a vibration, more like a sixth sense; she knew the gauntlet was on, and she could feel the metal hoof piece as if it were a piece of her body. The metal contours, the padding inside, and every edge of the gauntlet felt as if it had nerves, just like her own body.

She lifted her hoof in the air, and wrote the three runes. As soon as Emberglow began writing, she felt a building sensation. It was like a pressure on her mind; not unpleasant, but odd. The more lines of the runes she wrote, the further the pressure built. She finished the curves and points of the three runes, and suddenly the pressure leapt within her, asking to be set free. She realized she could hold onto it if she wished, but had no reason to, letting the building energy of the spell rip free. Before anypony else in her column, a red orb flickered to life in the air above her head. Emberglow heard a clopping of hooves from next to her; she looked and saw Lofty returning her applause from earlier. She gave him a grin.

“That was quick, pink pony,” Sir Sablebeard said. That was odd; the dour Knight never really complimented any students. Then again, he usually didn’t interact with students in any way, so maybe it wasn’t that odd. Emberglow looked back at the others in her column. This time, nopony missed the runes on the first try, with each student in the column having a colored orb above their heads. “Next group. Begin.”

The fourth group had three ponies that had to retry. Right as Sir Sablebeard was about to order the three to begin again, there was a scream from the other side of Lofty. One of the ponies in the first group, a grey earth pony stallion, was suspended in midair, surrounded by a green sparkling aura. He jerked and twisted in the air, his hooves pawing fruitlessly against the nothingness around him. His power source was still attached to his gauntlet, and it too was lifted off the ground, dangling from the cords that connected it to the gauntlet. The grey stallion’s panicked shouts and panting breath drew the attention of everypony in the classroom.

“Stop! Hooves on desk!” Sir Sablebeard shouted, running over to the suspended stallion. Once again, Sir Sablebeard’s gauntlet lit up the air, and Emberglow watched with awe as the instructor quickly sketched not three, but five runes in the air in the time it had taken her to draw one. The white runes disappeared, followed by a pulse of red light radiating from Sir Sablebeard’s gauntlet. As the red light bounced against the green aura that held the whimpering stallion in its grip, the green light faded. With each pulse, the light faded more, until finally disappearing. The stallion lowered slowly to the ground, collapsing onto his stomach as soon as his twitching hooves hit the floor.

“Mental discipline is a MUST for rune casting,” Sir Sablebeard said. “Grey stallion, are you unharmed?” The stallion stood up, carefully sitting back down at his desk, his face flushed with shame.

“I-I’m fine, sir. No injuries.”

“You are well enough to continue the lesson?”

“Um… yes sir,” the stallion said.

“Good. Last group. Everypony remember, the gauntlet is activated by willpower. If you don’t want random miscasts that explode in your face or change the nature of gravity relative to your own body, please control your thoughts. Now, begin.”

The final column had three ponies succeed on the first try, one on the second, and one on the fourth try, a nervous pegasus stallion who failed the first three times. But Sir Sablebeard was persistent, and the ‘red pony’ finally made it on the fourth try.

“Good. Now that you have all successfully cast a single rune spell, you will all break into pairs and practice. ONLY this spell, no others. One of you will cast, while the other observes. When the first is done, the second will cast. Move two desks so you’re sitting across from each other, and can see what the other is doing right, or doing wrong. Keep going until the end of class, or until one of you accidentally puts you or your partner in the infirmary,” Sir Sablebeard commanded. There was such a sense of inevitability in his voice that a few ponies in the classroom shuddered.

“Well, tutor, would you be my partner?” Lofty asked, as the other ponies in the classroom paired off with each other. Emberglow agreed, and the two of them slid their desks together. “You go first, I think it’ll help to see it done right again.”

“You did fine,” Emberglow said, rolling her eyes, but she did as he suggested, raising her hoof and casting the spell. It was even easier than the first time. With a grin, Lofty reached out with a hoof to pop the red orb that had appeared above her head. “Okay, your turn.”

This time, Lofty got it on the first try. The two friends took turns, casting the bubble orb and then popping it. They lost track of time, only stopping when they heard a scream of pain and Sir Sablebeard’s harsh cry of “Stop! Hooves on desk!” so that he could assess a broken leg and arrange for the injured mare to be carried off to the infirmary.

“It’s kinda weird that we just keep going when somepony gets hurt,” Lofty said. Emberglow shrugged.

“Well, at the rate ponies are getting hurt, and the level of certainty Sir Sablebeard had about the coming injuries, I’m not surprised. He clearly planned for this many injuries. I’m just a little surprised we didn’t have a Radiant on standby, like we sometimes do in martial arts class.” She thought about Lady Mercy Song, and how nice it would be to see her new role model again.

“It’s possible no Radiant could stand the company,” Lofty whispered, laughing. Emberglow gave him a horrified look; Sir Sablebeard had just wandered into earshot, behind Lofty Tale.

“You may be correct, green pony,” the Knight said from behind him, his voice deadpan.

“Sir! I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, be quiet. I’m well aware some ponies find my personality off-putting. But the fact is, the Radiant did offer to have one of theirs present. I declined. Rune casting, as you know, is a mental feat; if I had a magical doctor present, you all would have assumed injury was inevitable. You would have lost confidence, and everypony would have failed. Now, practice more and gossip less.” Sir Sablebeard wandered off, to check on a different pair of students.

“If he was so worried about damaging our confidence, why’d he do it himself?” Lofty hissed, whispering while watching the Knight to make sure he wasn’t close enough to overhear this time. Emberglow giggled.

“I have no idea. Now hush, green pony,” she whispered back in a clumsy approximation of Sir Sablebeard’s voice. “It’s your turn.”

Fortunately for the two of them, neither Emberglow nor Lofty Tale ended up taking a trip to the infirmary, though one of the other students actually caused a minor explosion inside of Sir Sablebeard’s desk, causing an explosion of a brand new ink pot that showered the entire front row in red ink. Sir Sablebeard, with a resigned sigh, commented that at least they’d only had two serious injuries, and dismissed the entire class, especially the front row, to go clean up before lunch. A free period had been deliberately scheduled during the time right after their first practical rune casting class, as if the staff had expected and made allowances for potential disasters.

“You could probably skip a bath or a shower,” Lofty teased as the two of them, spotted all over with red, like some sort of pox, walked out of the classroom. “Nopony could tell if you have red ink all over your mane.”

“Ha ha,” Emberglow deadpanned. “You look like a Hearth's Warming tree that somebody tied a black mop to the top of. Go wash up, green pony.”

“Is that my new nickname?” Lofty asked. Emberglow just smirked at him.

“Don't you think it's kinda weird that Sir Sablebeard doesn’t know our names?” she asked. Lofty shrugged.

“I’ll bet he never bothers to learn anypony’s name. Or maybe he’ll start, now that he has to interact with us instead of just talking at us.”

“Still,” Emberglow mused. “Accidents and ink explosions aside, that was pretty incredible. Did you feel the pressure? The power building as you formed the spell? It was weird, but it felt good.”

“Yeah, not the first attempt that failed, but after that I think I felt a little bit. Something.”

Emberglow stared at her friend. The sensation had been obvious, and quite powerful. She wondered if it were different for each pony, but she certainly wouldn’t have described the feeling as merely ‘a little bit’.

“But…” Emberglow began, then hesitated. She had no idea how to have this conversation about subjective experiences that she didn’t even have a vocabulary for. Still, she was curious. “I think I felt a bit more. A… a really strong pressure, or a force, in my head. It was just begging to be released, and as soon as I finished the runes, each time, it would kind of… try to jump out of my head. It’s hard to describe.”

“Huh,” Lofty said with a shrug. “I don’t know, Emberglow. Maybe it’s just because you’re more naturally talented at this than I am. I didn’t really feel anything like what you’re saying. Just a little tiny nudge, I suppose.”

They talked about it all the way back to the dorms, until they reached Emberglow’s room. Every day, Lofty still insisted on following her back to her room. She thought she should probably protest more; so far, there had been no other incidents. When they reached her door, however, it was slightly ajar.

“What?” she blinked with confusion, her ears pinned back nervously. “I didn’t leave it open…”

“Emberglow…” Lofty said, his voice worried. He sniffed the air. Emberglow did too; she smelled nothing. Cautiously, she pushed the door the rest of the way open with her muzzle, sneaking her head into the room to quickly inspect the inside. What she saw made her blood run cold.

Cream and rose colored fabric, shredded into chaotic strips, strewn across the floor.

Blue velvet, torn into pieces.

Two cutie mark medallions, bent and cast aside.

The largest remaining piece, what had once been a flared sleeve, was torn down one side to make a flat canvas. It was pinned to the wall with two daggers; somepony had written ‘Go home slut’ sloppily in red ink on the torn cloth.

She’d never asked her parents how much the dress had cost. How many bits had gone into the materials, how many hours of labor, or how much for the blacksmith’s commission to make the cutie mark medallions. As she stood there, looking at the shredded remains of the physical symbol of her parent’s love for her, all she could think of were the numbers. Ten bits for the yards of cream linen. Twelve, or maybe thirteen, for the cream linen with red dots. Another seven or so for the blue velvet; they probably didn’t need much of that. A few hours of labor for the both of them, not even counting the time it had taken them to adjust it for her growth, twice! She couldn’t even begin to guess how much it had cost for them to commission cutie mark medallions for the belt. Twenty bits? Twenty five? Emberglow had grown up around retail; she had a good enough sense of cost and markup to know that a dress like hers could easily retail for as much as a hundred and fifty bits.

Shock. Irrational thoughts. That was a symptom of shock. She was in shock. Was it possible for a mental or emotional trauma to bring on symptoms of shock? Emberglow couldn’t quite remember, but she thought so. Her hooves moved automatically, shifting her towards the demolished pile of cloth in the center of her room. Her hoof reached out, pawing woodenly at the shredded remains. As soon as she felt the touch of the soft fabric, her legs gave out, collapsing underneath her. She hit the wood floor stomach first, legs akimbo, and buried her nose in the torn cloth. There was noise. Somepony was shouting. Shouting at her? It didn’t sound angry, but she couldn’t quite make out the words at first.

“...too far. This is too much,” Lofty’s voice faded into her awareness. “I can’t… Emberglow, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Something touched the back of her neck, and she shrieked, her rage and grief ripping the feral noise out of her throat. She spun onto her back, flailing at her assailant with her hooves. The stallion jumped back just in time to avoid getting clocked. Bereft a target, Emberglow’s limbs curled around herself protectively, and she flopped onto her side.

“Emberglow I… I’m going to go get help. Please stay here. Stay calm. Uh… yeah. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t acknowledge him. She barely heard him. Reaching out with her front hooves, she gathered a pile of scraps from her favorite dress and clutched them to her muzzle. It was too much. She breathed in the scent of her dress and tried to think.

Emberglow was still curled up on the floor when she heard hoofsteps approaching. She didn’t bother to get up, but she did lift her muzzle out of the detritus on the floor to watch Lofty, Lady Amaranth, and a nurse from the infirmary, a grey pegasus mare, rush into the room.

“Who did this?” somepony asked. Lady Amaranth. She sounded furious.

More voices. Names. Accusations. Emberglow inhaled through her nose, trying to catch the scent of her parent’s shop in the torn cloth.

A new voice. The nurse? Maybe.

“... in shock, my lady,” the new voice said. “Probably a panic attack, as well.”

Lofty was speaking again. Answering again. He sounded angry.

Lady Amaranth asked a question.

“I believe she’ll be fine, physically.” This was the nurse again. “I recommend some counselling, too. A pony she can talk to.”

“... Mercy Song will help, Emberglow knows her.” Lady Amaranth mused. “That is, if she still wants to stay—”

“No! No, don’t send me away!” Emberglow snapped, surging to a sitting position on the bed. “This is… this is…” She didn’t know what she’d meant to say, her thoughts were a mess. “Don’t send me away,” she repeated, sounding pathetic.

“Shh, nopony’s going to send you away unless that’s what you want,” the nurse said. Lady Amaranth nodded.

“You’re one of the best in your class, Emberglow, and even your struggles in my class show a determination and willingness to work. No, the only way we lose you would be if you chose that yourself. I’ll leave her in your care, nurse. Lofty, help the nurse with whatever she needs. I’ve got some ponies to speak with.”

The Knight gave one last sympathetic look at Emberglow before swooping out of the room. Lofty looked expectantly at the nurse.

“Right. First, you’re going to take down that disgusting sign. Then, I want you to head to the kitchens, and get us some hot chocolate. Tell them you’re on a mission from Nurse Greyfeather.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lofty said, smiling a little and giving a military salute, hoof to chest. The nurse smirked at him, and sat down on the edge of Emberglow’s bed, a grey wing draped comfortingly around the younger mare. He walked over to where the two blades were spiked into the wall, and pulled them out with his teeth, spitting the weapons onto the floor contemptuously. “Would you like me to clean up the rest of this while I’m at it?”

“No, we’ll take care of that. You just look into the hot chocolate situation,” the nurse ordered. Lofty nodded, and left.

“I’m sorry,” Emberglow whispered as soon as he was gone. The nurse stared at her.

“Why would you apologize? You did nothing wrong.” Greyfeather said.

“No, for being such a mess. A Knight shouldn’t be… sh-shouldn’t be l-like th-th-,” Emberglow stammered, breaking down into sobs as the tears finally came. “I’m s-such a w-weakling…”

“Cry all you want, but don’t you dare say you’re a weakling,” the nurse protested, hugging Emberglow to her chest. “Do you know what Lofty said about you on the way over here? That you’ve been going months with these girls tormenting you. Months! And he says you just ignored it, and didn’t say a word! That’s not weakness. What happened here was a panic attack, brought on by stress and shock.”

“I was experiencing the s-symptoms of sh-shock earlier,” Emberglow managed.

“Ooh, that’s right, I did hear that you were medically trained. Quite the little genius, according to your classmate. Personally, I don’t think he does you enough credit, if you’ve been putting up with this as long as he says. Now, what is first aid for shock?”

“Um, cover the patient loosely with a blanket or sheet, make sure they’re lying down, and lots of fluid to prevent dehydration. Check for bleeding or other external injuries that may be contributing to low blood flow,” Emberglow recited, as the nurse eased her down onto the bed, sliding a sheet up and over her.

“That’s right,” the nurse said soothingly. “Are you injured? Bleeding anywhere?”

“No, I’m not,” Emberglow said.

“Okay, let’s move on to the next medical condition, doctor Emberglow. What do you recommend for a panic attack?” the nurse asked. Emberglow laughed shakily at the entire situation.

“Encourage the p-patient to take deep, calming breaths,” Emberglow began, and when the nurse raised her eyebrows, she took one. “Speak soothingly and calmly, tell them everything will be okay.” It was odd how thinking of things she had memorized, had been tested on in medical school, was calming her racing, churning brain. “Small sips of water might help."

“Hot chocolate,” the nurse corrected. “That’s my go-to for student panic attacks. Sorry, continue.”

“Remove the patient from the source of the stress, if possible,” Emberglow said, looking up at the wall where the daggers had held the sign in place. The nurse nodded.

“I suppose I should start getting this cleaned up, then.”

“But what should I… what can I… all my parent’s hard work…”

“Was destroyed, yes,” the nurse said calmly. “But this dress is not their love for you. This dress is not their feelings, or their pride. They won’t think or feel differently about you because the dress was destroyed. So right now we need to get your room in order, so you can stop looking at this pile, and start remembering the sentiment behind the dress, not the dress itself.” Emberglow nodded and started to rise, but was stopped by a hoof to her chest. “Nope. You stay there in bed and tell me all about your parents. I’ll get this cleaned up. It won’t take more than a moment.”

“My parents are tailors,” Emberglow began as the nurse began piling together the remains of her dress. “They raised me in Rainbow Falls until my cutie mark appeared and we moved to New Canterlot City so I could have a better education…”

The self-history continued while the nurse cleared the room, with Emberglow needing only gentle prodding to talk all about her amazing parents. Nurse Greyfeather was right; it didn’t take long to clean up the mess, and she did feel better as she thought about her mother and father. In no time, the ruined dress was gone, the scraps thrown away in a garbage bin, the only remaining bits being the two cutie mark medallions. The nurse had managed to bend them mostly back into shape, leaving them on top of Emberglow’s dresser as a keepsake.

“It’s like a metaphor for you,” the nurse said, as she put the two medallions down. “No matter how much damage they did, you’re still here, and you’re still strong. Like these. You’re going to survive, Emberglow, and you’re going to be stronger for it.”

“I still feel foolish that I had a panic attack, of all things,” Emberglow said. “I didn’t think…” and then blushed, not wanting to finish the thought.

“Go on,” the nurse prodded.

“I didn’t think that sort of thing happened to ponies like me. I thought I was stronger than that.”

“Well, now you know. Stress, anxiety, depression, and trauma are real things. The Saints can help us through them, but they don’t usually make them go away. More often, we prove ourselves to the Saints not by ignoring these things, but by enduring and overcoming them. And it’s just fine to get help on the way; remember, the Saints helped each other, so is it really so bad to get help when we need it?” the nurse asked rhetorically. “Even the blessed Diarchs are a pair, Sun and Moon, working with each other in perfect Harmony.”

“I’m back!” Lofty announced, reemerging into the room carrying a thermos and several cups. Emberglow jumped, startled. “The cook didn’t believe me at first, thought I was making it all up for free sweets.”

“Looks like you convinced him, though,” the nurse said with a smile. “Pour us all a cup, young stallion.”

Emberglow sat up, and Lofty watched her a bit nervously as he poured them all a steaming mug of hot chocolate. They all sat and drank, Emberglow sitting on the bed, Lofty and Nurse Greyfeather sitting on the floor, and sipped the hot sweet beverage. For Emberglow, it was the perfect solution. The chocolate was like a warm blanket hugging her from the inside.

“So…” she finally felt up to asking the question. “What happens now? To Green Fields, I mean.”

“Expulsion is what she deserves,” Lofty said bluntly.

“Expulsion is unlikely,” the nurse said honestly. “She’s not a sponsorship, so she’s here because her parents paid for her to be here. The Fields family is wealthy and influential. So most likely, she’ll be taken to the headmaster of the Ivy Seminary, and questioned about what happened.”

“So she can lie?” Lofty snorted angrily.

“She might,” the nurse said. “But on the witness of two instructors, both Lady Amaranth and Sir Sablebeard, as well as my own testimony, she’ll be put under a truth spell about the whole thing. I doubt she’ll be able to prevaricate at all. I think most likely, she’ll be suspended until the start of next year, and she’ll be on probation, closely watched by all of the staff to make sure she doesn’t torment some other students.”

“Why not kick her out?” Lofty asked.

“Because… even if she’s terrible, Equestria needs her,” Emberglow answered, surprising herself. “Even ponies like her are a resource. And maybe if she gets a second chance, she’ll be different.”

The other two ponies were staring at her.

“What?” Emberglow asked.

“She’s too nice,” Lofty sighed. “Are you seriously defending Green Fields?”

“Not defending,” Emberglow protested. “I don’t like her, and I’ll be perfectly happy if I never see her again. But it’d be selfish of me to want her to be kicked out forever, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re unbelievable.” Lofty rolled his eyes incredulously.

“No, she’s sweet,” the nurse argued, giving Lofty a light shove with her hoof. “But you really do need to be worried about yourself sometimes. It’s okay to be a little selfish, to take care of yourself, and let other ponies know when you’re hurting. I’ll send a message to Lady Mercy Song. She’s trained as a counselor. You’re comfortable with her, right?” Emberglow nodded. “She’ll tell you better than me, but you need to learn to let your feelings out, and not ignore what’s happening and bottle things up until it explodes. Talk to your friend, or talk to me, or talk to Lady Mercy. Okay?”

“Okay.” Emberglow nodded.

“Good. Now I have to get back to the infirmary. Sir Sablebeard has another period this afternoon, and they’re also learning practical rune casting today.” The nurse shuddered. “It’s been nice to take a hot chocolate break, though,” she said, as if that were the real reason she was in Emberglow’s dorm. “I’ll make sure the both of you are excused from your afternoon classes, but tomorrow you should be fine to attend. Who do you have this evening?”

“Knight Law with Lady Evenhoof, and then Martial Arts with Lady Amaranth,” Lofty replied. Nurse Greyfeather nodded, and stood after draining the last of her cup.

“I’ll send a note to Lady Evenhoof, and Lady Amaranth will already know where you are. Do something relaxing, paint, write your parents, read a book, whatever you do to decompress.”

“Um, all Emberglow’s free time has been taken up by extra laundry or extra tutoring of her incompetent classmate,” Lofty supplied helpfully, with a bit of angry bite to his tone.

“No wonder you broke down,” the nurse said, her voice tinged with awe. “Maybe try writing a letter to your parents, let them know what happened. I know it will be just a few weekends until you see them again, but it might help you process all this. Lofty, stay with her until bedtime tonight, okay? Nurse’s orders. Come get me if you need anything.”

The nurse left the two young ponies alone, with about half the thermos of hot chocolate left. With a grin, Lofty Tale refilled both of their glasses.

“I have to say, this has got to be the worst plan ever on how to skip a couple of classes,” he said, just in time for Emberglow to take a big sip of her hot chocolate. She tried her best not to laugh, snorted, and managed to almost not spill hot chocolate on her bedsheet. Mostly.

“You’re a brat.” She scowled at him, but she couldn’t hold in her laughter for long. She moved off her bed onto the floor next to Lofty, and reached out with hoof and wing to draw him into a tight hug. “You’re also a great friend. Thank you, Lofty Tale.”

“Any time, Emberglow,” he said, and the two friends held each other close.

Chapter 7

Excerpt from the Book of the Saints, Chapter 37, Verses 16 through 25

16- We must give the world a gift, to keep them safe when we are gone, said Twilight Sparkle.

17- Ponies to follow after us, to walk in our hoofsteps, to spread our Word, and to fight back the darkness of foul magic and alien creatures.

18- We will call them our Knights, and they will be as our children.

19- The first will be the Knights Mystic, said Twilight Sparkle, the Wise Leader. They will fight against Ignorance and Heresy. They will contain the unicorn threat.

20- My children will help yours, declared Rainbow Dash, the Ever Faithful. They will be the Knights Adamant, the strong hoof and mighty voice of the Goddesses, forever protecting our borders from threats beyond.

21- There must be more than an army, reasoned Applejack, the True and Just. My children will patrol the streets, keeping away threats from within. They will be the Knights Vigilant, and they will judge and protect the common pony.

22- My children will spread the Truth, at home and abroad, said Pinkamena, the Joybringer. They will show all the joys of the Truth, so that all ponies, from the Diarchy and beyond, will better themselves and prepare for rebirth. They will be the Knights Jubilant.

23- I will give to the world the gift of my Knights Radiant, said Rarity, the Eternal Virgin. Though no stallion may claim me as his own, I will belong to all as a mother and a sister. My children will be as I am, forever apart, belonging to none and all, healing all who require.

24- Last to speak was Fluttershy, the Bold Adventuress. My Knights Angelic will be the last; to bring hope to the darkness, to connect all of Equestria, and to shine the light of the Word where none other dare go.

25- So it was decided. And Twilight Sparkle gifted each of the Saints with the Sacred Runes, teaching them how to show others to use their mystic might to protect and defend, to serve and support, to uphold the will of the Goddesses throughout Equestria.

1110 AF, Ivy Seminary, New Canterlot City

Eighteen months at Ivy Seminary. Hundreds of classes, lectures, discussions, and demonstrations. Nineteen dropouts, one expulsion (for theft and assault), and two suspensions (one was Green Fields, the other was a stallion who had gotten one of the service staff pregnant). After the incident with the dress, life at the Ivy Seminary had gone much smoother for Emberglow; the bullying had all but stopped. She met with Lady Mercy twice a month now; once for her service weekends, and another time just to talk to somepony about what was going on.

Now, there was one main thing in Emberglow’s life that was causing her stress: Lofty Tale. Her best friend in the whole world was beginning to make hints that he would be interested in a little more than friendship. While romantic pursuits were generally discouraged to the students, they were not outright forbidden, and only two of the five orders swore a vow of chastity. Emberglow had been playing dumb, pretending not to notice what he was hinting at, all the while knowing that someday, maybe someday soon, he would say something that could ruin their friendship forever. More than anything else, Emberglow didn’t want to wreck the relationship she had with the kind, intelligent, and often funny stallion. But how could she tell him she was completely and totally uninterested in any sort of romantic relationship, especially with a stallion? For the Diarchs’ sake, he already knew she meant to enter into an order that vowed to chastity; what was he thinking? And how could she turn down a stallion without breaking him?

There was no chance at all Emberglow could go to her mother about this. That would end in a disaster of nightmare proportions.

She had considered asking the other major female role model in her life, but Lady Mercy Song knew Lofty Tale. Besides, Emberglow didn’t want to burden the graceful Knight with petty concerns like a hopeful stallion’s love life. Whenever she was in the Knight Radiant’s presence, she felt like Lady Mercy was invincible — a strong, unapproachable mountain of faith and confidence. Having a conversation with her about something as silly as saving her friend’s ego after Emberglow’s inevitable rejection felt… blasphemous, somehow.

Lofty Tale hadn’t said anything yet, however, so a part of Emberglow still hoped that he would forever remain quiet about his affections. They would be seeing a lot less of each other soon; after eighteen long months as pages, they were about to begin their one year period as squires.

Emberglow was looking forward to the new living arrangements; while the squires could continue to stay in the Seminary’s dorm if they wished, it was no longer a requirement. Though she would be spending her days with her assigned Knight, she would be spending evenings and Sundays with her parents.

The selection of a mentor for each new squire was an interesting process. Squires were always assigned to Knights from a different order than the one they aspired to. Emberglow didn’t know who she’d end up with, but as a sponsorship, she knew Sir Steadfast had influence in who was selected for her. She knew that if he still harbored hopes of luring her to the Mystics, he would see that she was assigned to a Knight Mystic to squire. Honestly, the idea was a little exciting to her; the Mystics valued scholarship and study, things she was already good at.

Lofty Tale was another story. As far as she knew, he had never decided which of the orders he was interested in joining. There was a committee of Knights, one from each order, who interviewed each page extensively, once a week for four weeks, to grill them on subjects such as their intended order, their qualifications, their weaknesses, and their goals. She wondered if in private Lofty Tale had informed the committee which order he was interested in. He had certainly not told her.

The assigning of squires to Knights took place in the Ivy Seminary’s auditorium, a room that saw very little everyday use. The only times it was regularly used were during mass assemblies every other month or so, where a large presentation or lecture would be held with the entire student body. The auditorium could easily hold four times that many, and apparently had in the past, but this year’s class was small.

Since the ceremony was scheduled for right after breakfast, a gaggle of excited pages made their way together to the auditorium. As usual, Emberglow was walking with Lofty. Emberglow was jittery and nervous; her hooves barely touched the path as she nervously pranced alongside Lofty on their way to the big meeting.

“So, you never told me what order you were going into,” Emberglow began as they walked together towards the auditorium.

“Meh. It’s because I’m still not sure,” Lofty said ambivalently. “Any order would be good, right? And it’s not the idea of a specific order that makes me want to be a Knight, but the idea of being a Knight itself.”

“Maybe you should go for Adamant,” Emberglow said. “They’re the most… um…”

“Generic?” Lofty smirked, and Emberglow laughed. “Well, it’s true. I thought about that, honestly. But it doesn’t appeal to me. What was that one thing that Lady Amaranth says all the time? ‘Ponies were not designed to kill other creatures. We just don’t have the tools built in.’ I just don’t think I’d be comfortable in an order whose primary responsibility is fighting.”

“You’re very good at it, you know. Fighting.” She wondered, briefly, if that was his special talent. Asking about a pony’s cutie mark was a very personal question, but she felt like she might be close enough to Lofty that it wouldn’t be rude. “I’ve… never asked you about your cutie mark.”

“My cutie mark is a play on the family crest. It’s an open book, with a crescent moon symbol on one page, and writing on the other. I always thought it meant my life was full of potential, that I could be whatever I wanted. You know, like an open book?”

“So what did you tell the placement committee? They have to know where you want to end up, so they know who to place you with, to squire for.”

“They didn’t seem overly bothered by my lack of decision. They told me I have until the end of my squiring to figure it out, but until then I was fine,” Lofty said, then grinned. “I should have told them I wanted to join the Radiant, just to see what they’d do.”

“You know you’re weird, right?” Emberglow teased, earning herself a playful shove from her friend. It was well known that the Radiant only accepted mares.

The auditorium was the biggest room on campus, sitting in the basement of the classroom block. It resembled an amphitheater, with a series of large stair-like levels going down to a central stage. Each of the levels had a row of seating cushions, and each cushion had a small fold-out desk next to it in case the pony sitting there needed something to take notes on. The two walls on either side were lined with electric lights, and, combined with three large light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, made up the audience lighting for the auditorium. The lights were blazing bright today, shedding light on the crowd of ponies gathered near the front of the auditorium.

When Emberglow and Lofty entered the room, much of their class had already gathered, and was sitting in the front of the auditorium. The rest of the room was filled with Knights, all dressed in either their official robes of office or their armor. Emberglow even spotted Lady Mercy Song, sitting among those Knights waiting for a squire.

“Somepony’s going to get really lucky,” Emberglow said, pointing out her favorite Knight to Lofty Tale. “Lady Mercy’s getting a squire.” Emberglow was already envious of the mystery pony; she knew she was getting somepony from another Order, but it would have been really nice to work with Lady Mercy more.

The two ponies took their seats among their classmates, silently waiting in the midst of the gentle murmur of a hundred echoed conversations. Soon, the house lights dimmed, and the stage lights flickered on dramatically. Several ponies walked out on stage; a dozen instructors, seminary administrators, and a few dignitaries took their seats on cushions arranged for them. The seminary’s headmaster, Pious Epiphany, took center stage. He was wearing Knight Armor, painted pink with the cutie mark of Saint Pinkamena. As a hush settled over the assembled students and Knights, he reached out with his hoof and began writing runes in the air. Emberglow recognized it as a voice amplification spell.

“My young ponies, I am so very proud of you,” he intoned, his voice magically filling the entire amphitheatre. “Today you gather here for an important milestone in your spiritual journey. You have completed the first step towards becoming Knights. For eighteen months, you have studied, struggled, practiced, sparred, worried, and conquered. You have overcome all challenges that have been placed before you, and now you are here. I have conferred with your instructors, and I am pleased to say that each one of you is worthy to become a squire.

“Behind you are Knights, the very thing you aspire to become someday. We have carefully selected each Knight who will be mentoring you. You will serve them with your full talents and intellect, and in turn they will pass on their valuable experience and wisdom. Each of you has strengths and weaknesses, and we have picked your mentors to reinforce the former while shoring up the latter. They will be your role models, your goals to attain. One day, you too will take the oath of Knighthood, in a sacred ceremony that will infuse your body with holy power and sacred purpose. You will be faster, stronger, and tougher than your fellow ponies. But you will use that holy power to fight the enemies of righteousness and the lies of heresy.

“We at the Ivy Seminary have a tradition when it comes to selecting mentors for young squires. Each of you has professed a desire to join a particular Knight order. Rather than assign you a mentor from your future order, we assign you to somepony from another. This is done for three reasons. First, to remind you that we are all of the same family. No matter which of the five orders you belong to, we are all of the same purpose, the same goals, only with different toolsets and tasks. Second, to offer you exposure to ideas and perspectives that may be new to you. Saint Twilight said, ‘Seek always for truth, even in unexpected locations’. The third reason, and perhaps the most important, is to foster friendship between the five orders. Once, we allowed a branch of our family to go off on their own, to seek their own destiny. Never again. The Saints have decreed we shall work together, and this is one of the ways we make sure that happens.

“Now, on this day you do not become Knights, but you are one step closer. Each order has their own oath of membership that its supplicants swear, but the oath we all hold in common is the Oath of the Squire. It is one of the threads that binds us all together as one in the service of the Saints. Instructors, if you please.”

Sir Heavenseeker and Lady Broad Strokes, one of the advanced class instructors, rose and pulled on a pair of ropes at the opposite ends of the stage. Pulleys tied to the ceiling unfurled a large banner, which held the Oath of the Squire. Underneath the oath were the Five Exalted Tenants, the core principles that upheld the Holy Equestrian Diarchy.

“Now, all of you pages wishing to become Squires, please stand. Should you wish to change your minds, you may leave right now, and go on with your lives. The decision is final; a pony who leaves our company now may never return. Those of you who are Knights, who have already taken the Oath of the Squire, please stand and join with us, reaffirming your conviction and dedication to our path. Ponies, place your hoof on your heart in salute, and repeat after me.” Everypony rose to their hooves and added their voices to the crowd.

“I am a Knight of Equestria.”

After each statement, everypony in the room chanted the words after Pious Epiphany. Emberglow felt a surge of pride as she said the words. This was it; it felt like the end of the path, or at least an end.

“I uphold the Five Exalted Tenants with my life.

“I protect my fellow Knights from harm.

“I hold close to my heart the Elements of Harmony: Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, and Joy.

“I serve the Diarchy, its leaders and its citizens.

“I keep watch against heresy and corruption.

“I defend Equestria from enemies within and without, with my life and breath.”

With each line of the Oath, Emberglow surged with pride and joy. In that moment, she was sure she could feel the love of the Saints and the Diarchs flowing through her. She couldn’t help herself; her wings fluffed out, spreading out in an unconscious display of her elation.

“Thank you. Please be seated, all of you. Now, I will call each of you up here to receive your robes, the official mark of your position as a squire. Each one is embroidered with the cutie marks of all six saints; so you remember that even though you seek to dedicate yourself to only one of the six, you must strive to serve and emulate all.” Headmaster Pious motioned offstage, and a pair of earth ponies, dressed as Squires themselves, hauled a pair of open crates on stage. The headmaster lifted something out of one of the crates; it was a robe, dyed snow white and marked with six holy cutie marks. “After I have given you the robe you have earned, I will announce the name of the Knight you will be squiring for, and their order. You will then take a seat beside your new mentor. We will proceed in alphabetical order. Page Astrolabe!”

Emberglow watched as one of her former tormentors made her way to the stage. Astrolabe and Emberglow had not exchanged more than a half dozen words since Green Field’s year-long suspension; if she hadn’t been stuck in the infirmary, mostly unconscious, while her best friend had vandalized Emberglow’s dress, she probably would have been implicated in the crime as well. As it was, Astrolabe had taken great pains to not heap any more torment on Emberglow, much to the latter’s relief. The headmaster handed a robe to Astrolabe.

“Page Astrolabe will be squiring for Sir Falling Foehn, of the Knights Adamant.”

A pale orange pegasus Knight, dressed in the light blue armor of the Adamant, rose and waved his hoof towards Astrolabe, who looked both nervous and excited. She descended from the stage and moved to sit with her new mentor, while Headmaster Pious called out, “Page Axel Grease!”

Each student had their turn, with each page called to the front, Emberglow became more nervous. Who would she end up with? She assumed a Knight Adamant; even after months of private tutoring, her proficiency at hoof to hoof combat was at best mediocre. Headmaster Pious, and several of the ponies on the squire placement committee had mentioned that the placement would be made to help the pages with their weaknesses.

“Page Emberglow!” Headmaster Pious finally called, and Emberglow stood on shaky legs. She felt something pat her barrel, and looking to her left, saw Lofty Tale grinning at her encouragingly. Smiling back, she made her way to the stage.

The lights on stage were hot, and she decidedly did not like the skin-crawling sensation of literally everypony in the audience staring at her. She froze for a second, before nervously proceeding over to Headmaster Pious, reaching out to receive her white robe. “Page Emberglow will be squiring for Knight Turquoise, of the Knights Jubilant.”

Emberglow’s eyes shifted out into the audience. A Knight Jubilant? What did that mean? She was sure she’d end up with a Mystic, or maybe even an Adamant. She saw a mare, dressed in the pink robes of the Jubilant, standing in the audience. She locked eyes with the older mare, noting with some nervousness the Knight’s gaze, which was just shy of hostile. She didn’t have time to wonder what that was all about, however, as Headmaster Pious had ushered her off the stage so he could call the next name.

Maybe Emberglow had imagined the glare. As she walked up the steps towards where the mare was sitting, she couldn’t see the expression on the Knight’s face. She reached the correct row just as the stallion behind her had his mentor announced. As Emberglow looked down the row of cushions, she could see the pink-robed mare, her gaze fixed on the stage, pointedly ignoring the newly minted squire walking down the aisle towards her. Her fur was colored turquoise just like her name, and she had a shiny silver mane kept long and flowing, streaked with velvety black. Emberglow received the slightest of nods from the Knight, the mare barely taking a second to acknowledge her squire. Emberglow’s nervousness was beginning to become a sense of dread.

It all vanished, albeit temporarily, when Lofty Tale was called to the stage. Emberglow’s eyes and ears were both pinned on the stage as her friend got up on the platform and received his robe.

“Page Lofty Tale will be squiring for Knight Mercy Song, of the Knights Radiant.”

Was it possible to be equally as excited for your best friend as you were insanely jealous? Emberglow had known that she would never have been able to squire for one of the Radiant, but that didn’t stop her from imagining how much she could have learned. She had also never considered that Lofty would have had the privilege of squiring for her favorite Knight, since the Radiant only allowed mares to take their oaths. She supposed that didn’t stop them from accepting stallion squires.

She realized suddenly that Lofty Tale’s eyes were searching for hers, and he looked worried. Worried that she would be jealous? Well she was! But that didn’t stop her from being incredibly happy for her friend, as well. Emberglow made sure to give him her widest grin, and he seemed to recover.

Since Lofty already knew Knight Mercy Song, he was able to find her quickly in the crowd. Emberglow could see the two of them speaking quietly about something, and her nervous dread returned. What kind of Knight was Lady Turquoise, and why did she seem so unhappy to have a squire? Emberglow’s dark thoughts stewed the rest of the ceremony. When every squire had been assigned to a Knight, Headmaster Pious stood up to speak again.

“Remember, squires, you will treat your Knights as your commanding officers now. Obey them exactly and you will thrive. Heed their words and you will learn. Follow in their hoofsteps, and you may one day be Knights as great as they are. After this meeting, you will be at their command for the remainder of the day. Squires, work hard, and the grace of all Saints be with you.”

The electric lights in the auditorium rose. Emberglow would have loved to have rushed over and congratulated her friend on his luck, but she would have to do so later. For now, she looked to the Knight who would be mentoring her for the next year.

“Well, come on,” the mare said, sounding impatient. “I’ve got an office in one of the high rises near the Central Cathedral.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow replied as respectfully as possible, earning a grunt from the Knight. Emberglow followed closely behind an ominously silent Lady Turquoise, watching the expressions of excitement on all the other squires as several of them conversed animatedly with their new mentors. She even smiled and waved at Lady Mercy, who was already laughing at something that Lofty had been telling her.

The building that held Lady Turquoise’s office was eight stories tall, just a bit shorter than the High Cathedral itself. It was built in a manner that spoke of function over form. Simple square architecture rose from the street, interspersed by row after row of simple square windows. The walls were made of brown brick. A sign over the glass entry door, made of metal, read simply ‘Jubilant Overflow’.

“I’m on the fourth floor. You don’t have a problem with stairs, do you?” Lady Turquoise asked.

“No, ma’am,” Emberglow said.

“Good,” the Knight replied. Inside the building was a reception area, complete with what looked like a café, of all things. Ponies, most of whom were in pink robes, were sitting at tables drinking tea or coffee. There was a barista waiting at a counter piled with sweets and drink making supplies. Lady Turquoise paused suddenly, eyeing her younger charge for a moment.

“How do you take your coffee?” she asked suddenly.

This felt like a test. Emberglow answered hesitantly, “Um… black, ma’am.” Lady Turquoise’s eyes narrowed briefly, then she nodded. She walked over to the barista.

“Can you have two black coffees sent up to office 403?” she asked. The barista took out a small pad of paper, writing out the office number and the order.

“Yes, ma’am, as soon as possible,” he said. Emberglow was curious when no bits were exchanged. Maybe it wasn’t really a normal café.

“Thanks,” Lady Turquoise said, and without another word moved through the lobby to a small hallway at the south end of the room. The hallway led to a set of stairs going up, past two elevator doors.

“Sorry, I don’t do elevators,” Lady Turquoise murmured. Emberglow didn’t know how to respond, so she simply followed the earth pony up three flights of stairs to the fourth floor.

“Here we are, home sweet office,” Lady Turquoise said, pushing the door open to room 403. Her office was homey, with the walls filled with photographs of dozens of ponies, alongside a few needlepoint sayings, mostly quotes from the Book of the Saints. Her desk, centered just beneath the office’s only window, also looked neat and organized. It contained a few more framed photos, including one that appeared to be Lady Turquoise with an older couple, probably her parents. There were cushions on the floor, all of which appeared home-sewn. The only other furniture was a large cabinet sitting against the wall. “Take a seat, and we’ll talk.” She closed the wooden door behind them.

Emberglow cautiously selected one of the cushions and settled herself on it, watching the Knight warily. Lady Turquoise slumped down into the cushion behind her desk with a tired sigh.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Emberglow,” Lady Turquoise said. “I don’t want you here. I never wanted a squire.”

“I… had gathered that, ma’am,” Emberglow said. Lady Turquoise gave her a wan smile.

“Sorry, I’m not exactly subtle. The short story, with all the details cut out that are frankly none of your business, I pissed off somepony much more important than myself, and he decided that I needed to learn some humility. So, he managed to tease out what would make me the most frustrated and humiliated. Thus, foalsitting.”

Emberglow bristled. She wasn’t a foal, and the characterization was unfair. But before she could say anything, Lady Turquoise continued.

“So now, instead of working on my very important project that I’ve been trying to set in motion for nearly a year now, I have to come up with a bunch of busy work for a squire. Don’t worry”—she put up her hooves to forestall the protest Emberglow was trying to make—“I’ll make sure you get all the training and instruction you need. I have to report back to my superiors on your progress, so we’ll be certain you’re making all the right progress you need to, checking all the boxes. Your progress won’t suffer, only mine and my project’s.”

Emberglow stared at the Knight. This was not at all how she saw her squiring going. Busywork? She opened her mouth to say something; an argument, or a protest, maybe, but she didn’t know what. Before she could come up with something to say, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Ooh, coffee’s here,” Lady Turquoise said, sounding a tiny bit more cheerful. Emberglow jumped up before the Knight could, opening the door herself to allow the barista pony in, carrying two mugs of steaming black magic. “Just set them on the desk, thanks.”

The pony delivered his heavenly gifts with a smile, then left, allowing Emberglow to close the door behind him. The smell was incredible. Lady Turquoise motioned for Emberglow to take one of the mugs. She lifted it slowly to her lips, and took a tiny polite sip; the bitter, rich flavor exploded unexpectedly on her taste buds. She nearly choked in surprise.

“What… is this?” Emberglow managed to stutter, quickly taking another sip to confirm the experience. This wasn’t coffee; it was life.

“Um, coffee?” Lady Turquoise answered, confused.

“No, this is… amazing,” Emberglow marvelled, letting her third sip roll around on her tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.

“Oh, that’s right,” Lady Turquoise said with a smirk. “They only have instant coffee at the Ivy Seminary. That stuff’s garbage.”

“That’s… all I’ve ever had…” Emberglow said, wonderingly. Who knew coffee could taste this good?

“Wow,” Lady Turquoise said, her eyes wide. “Never?”

“No, we could only afford instant coffee,” Emberglow said sheepishly. Lady Turquoise eyed her with disbelief.

“Okay. Lesson one as my squire. There is no such thing as instant coffee in my office. When I send you to get coffee, you can fetch it from the kitchen downstairs. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow answered enthusiastically. She didn’t mind fetching coffee in the slightest if it meant she got to drink more of this magical brew.

“At least your taste in coffee is good,” Lady Turquoise huffed. “Anyways, as for your training schedule, I’ve gone over your school transcripts. It looks like the only place you really need a lot of work is fighting. So we’ll be sure to take some time to spar every day, okay?” The Knight took a deep breath. “Other than that, I’ve got a list of things you can do. You’re already well ahead of your class on most topics, so I don’t have a lot of catch up to do there.”

This sounded like more busywork talk to Emberglow. She suppressed a sigh herself, but what other option did she have? This was her Knight, somepony she had sworn to obey. She took a long sip of her coffee, staring at her Knight with troubled eyes.

“I figure, if we both do the best we can to stay out of each other’s way as much as possible, this will go much more smoothly for us both. I can finish the project I have been literally devoting my entire life to for the last several months, and you can… well, you can do squirey things.”

Emberglow’s heart sank, her ears drooped. This was certainly not the experience she was hoping for. She wasn’t supposed to be a burden, was she? She wondered if Lofty was having similar experiences. She doubted it; Lady Mercy was amazing. She frowned, realizing with a twinge of guilt that she had just mentally insulted her Knight by implication.

“Emberglow? You still with me?” Lady Turquoise said, and Emberglow started, her ears perking up in surprise as she was jolted out of her distracted thoughts.

“Um, yes ma’am. Sorry. I was lost in thought there.”

“Right. So I’m going to need some books from the Mystics’ library. Here’s my request in writing, because depending on the time of day, the librarian could be a real plothole.” She slid one paper over the desk towards Emberglow. “Here’s the list of books and documents I need.” She slid over another. “Head to the Star Shine building. The library’s on the main floor, in the north wing, if you’ve never been there before. If you enter, you’ll be stopped by one of the guards, or one of the librarians. Tell them why you’re there, and show them these two papers. It might help if you change into those squire robes you carried in with you. There’s a washroom three doors down on the right. Feel free to take your time with all of this. I’ve got a pair of saddlebags in here, sitting by the door. Take those to haul the books back.”

It was a clear dismissal. Emberglow took the final few gulps of her coffee as she wondered what to say. Was there anything she could? She had been stuck with somepony who didn’t want her there, who saw her as a waste of time. But what could she do about it? She had sworn to obey; it was part of the Oath of the Squire she’d just spoken. Perhaps the best thing was to simply make as much of it as she could. Maybe the Saints had a purpose for her in here somewhere, even if she couldn’t see it right now. She stood from her cushion, and with a respectful nod to the Knight, picked up her new robes and the saddlebags, and left to follow her orders. As Lady Turquoise had said, the washroom was three doors down on the right. Emberglow walked in and latched the door behind her.

This moment was not at all what she’d thought. Putting these robes on was supposed to be a moment of triumph, of accomplishment. Not confusion and disappointment. She took off her page’s robe, letting it slump unceremoniously to the floor. There was a single mirror in the washroom, and she caught sight of her naked body; her cross shaped cutie mark, complete with a crystal heart in the center, and her athletic muscle, sliding just under her pink fur. The sleek wings, perhaps not as strong or fast as another pegasus, but well taken care of nonetheless. She was proud of her body; proud of the time she’d spent training it, jogging and exercising. She was proud of her mind, of everything she’d accomplished as a page. But now she felt so worthless.

With a sigh and a painful lump in her throat, she tried to put her thoughts aside as she slipped the new robe where the old had just been. It was clear the Diarchy spent more on squire robes than they did page robes. She imagined the additional comfort of the finer linens was simply a privilege of her increased rank, though Emberglow found it hard to be excited about the change.

Once she was out of the washroom, she trotted down the hall. There were few other ponies about, mostly Knights who ignored her, or spared her a brief nod. She didn’t recognize the pair of squires she passed, but got a cheerful wave from both of them as they scurried after their respective Knights.

Lady Turquoise’s office building was just behind the great central cathedral, which was only one building down from the Star Shine Memorial Building. She walked down into the familiar double doors, smiling politely when the familiar secretaries congratulated her on her new squire robes. She was about to turn north, towards the north wing and the library, when she heard a familiar voice.

“Emberglow, is that you?” called out Sir Steadfast’s voice. She turned to see him walking towards her, smiling faintly.

“Yes, sir.” Emberglow grinned, waving to him as he trotted over to her.

“I’m so sorry I missed your ceremony. You look good in your new robes, young lady. I’m so proud of you. Who’d you end up with as your Knight?”

“Lady Turquoise, of the Knights Jubilant,” Emberglow said. “I’m on an errand for her right now. She sent me to the library to pick up some records.”

“Lady Turquoise, eh? They consulted me about who you should be placed with, of course. They always do. I recommended the Jubilant, but I’m afraid I’ve never met Lady Turquoise. How are things going so far?”

“Everything is great!” Emberglow said cheerily, but the lie burned in her chest, like her namesake. She didn’t even know why she said it. She’d never lied to Sir Steadfast before, so why now? Was she so afraid of his disappointment that she didn’t want him to know she already was upset with her placement? She felt a little ill, and hoped it didn’t show on her face. She had to get out of this conversation. “Lady Turquoise is expecting me back as soon as possible, though, so…” There was another lie! What was wrong with her?

“Say no more. I imagine if you’re looking for records, you’re heading towards the library. If you have any trouble, don’t hesitate to throw my name around. Some of my fellow Knights can become a little obsessive and overprotective about the flow of information, so you might need some added authority.”

“Of course, thank you sir,” Emberglow said, full of equal amounts guilt and relief. “But, um, before you go, can I ask why you recommended me to be placed with a Jubilant? I half expected you to try to get me placed with a Mystic.”

“It would have made sense, if I thought there was any chance of you jumping ship to my side,” Sir Steadfast said, laughing as he shook his head. “No, I think this is where the Saints mean for you to be. Call it an intuition.” He waved to her, both friendly and dismissing. “Go see to your chores, Emberglow. Don’t forget, I’d still like to meet with you once a month, even though you’re a squire now.”

“Yes, sir!” Emberglow said, shame shading her enthusiasm. The older stallion walked off, out of the building, and Emberglow turned towards the north wing.

Signs on the wall clearly marked the hallways she would need to go down to reach the Mystics’ library. She’d never been this way before, but the way was well-indicated, so when she pushed open the wooden door that was marked ‘library’, she was surprised at the hissed challenge she got as soon as she stepped in.

“You! What are you doing here?” came the harsh whisper. She looked up at the speaker, a very young Knight in a purple robe, with a pinched, angry face and white fur, and his yellow mane was tied back in a bun. He was standing behind a desk that separated Emberglow from the rows of bookshelves stacked behind it, though as soon as Emberglow looked in his direction he rushed from around the desk to confront her. The room was full of the smell of old parchment. “Squires are forbidden in my library without permission from…”

Dumbly, she held out the two papers Lady Turquoise had given her, shocked into silence at the oddly vitriolic challenge. The young knight glared at the papers for a second before yanking them out of her hooves. His ears were pinned back as he scanned across the first paper, the letter of request from Lady Turquoise. With a grunt, he switched to the list printed on the second.

“It all seems to be in order, but I’ll have to deny part of your request. Your master asks for six books, but these two here”—he waved the paper vaguely in front of Emberglow, far too quickly for her to even see—“they are classed as controlled texts, and must not leave the building to prevent unprepared eyes from reading the words.”

“That’s too bad, sir,” Emberglow said, not caring that her frustration was starting to leak into her voice. “I’m sure Lady Turquoise had no idea that’s what she was requesting. I’ll be sure to walk all the way back to her office to let her know.” The smug look on the young Knight made her angrier. “I just have to stop off at my sponsor’s office first. Sir Steadfast.” She didn’t know if name dropping would get her what she wanted, but she was frustrated enough to try. Oddly, even the attempt at using her mentor’s influence made her feel soiled, somehow. “What was your name again? I’ll be sure to mention how helpful you were.” The sarcasm felt like acid on her tongue.

“Sir Steadfast, you say?” the librarian Knight asked cautiously. Emberglow knew Sir Steadfast was high ranking, but she hadn’t taken the time to study the ranks of the Mystics. She didn’t quite know just how high ranking, but it seemed his name was enough to cause the librarian to pause.

“Yes, my mentor,” Emberglow responded, feeling bitter that this bureaucratic plothole had made her stoop this low. “Your name, sir?”

“We don’t need to… uh… I mean, are you sure…” the Knight floundered, before centering himself. “I don’t suppose these texts are too dangerous, as long as you make sure nopony except yourself and Lady…” he paused as he checked the first letter, “…Turquoise ever touch them. Will that be acceptable?”

“Of course, sir,” Emberglow said, trying to be respectful, while also restraining herself from a relieved sigh and slumped shoulders.

“I’ll be off to fetch those books, then. You wait here, and don’t touch anything!”

That last was clearly an order, and even though Emberglow had gotten the better of him a bit, she didn’t want to test his patience. She looked at the desk he had been standing at, and there was a bench alongside it. Without a word, she sat down to await the librarian Knight’s return. She could hear him rustling around among the stuffed bookshelves, muttering to himself as he searched for the six titles on Lady Turquoise’s list. Bored and frustrated, she glanced at the librarian’s desk. Don’t touch didn’t mean don’t look, right?

Unfortunately, the librarian stallion was as organized as he was antagonistic. His desk contained only a single ledger, a single photograph of the pony and his mother, a single quill, and a single paperweight shaped like a small bowling ball. The leger only had the year on the cover, with no other markings. Emberglow briefly considered flipping the ledger open just to assuage the monotony, but didn’t want to antagonize the librarian unnecessarily. She ran her hooves over the cushioning on the seat, trying not to think about anything that was happening right now.

“Here,” the librarian finally grunted, dropping the books onto the desk with a muted thump. Emberglow jumped, earning herself a scowl from the stallion for having nearly drifted off asleep. There were six books in total, though only one of them was very large. Emberglow hadn’t bothered to look closely at the list, so she tried to glimpse the titles from the spines. Only two were visible: “Travels to the Northern Expanse”, and “The Crystal Barrier”. So Lady Turquoise’s project had something to do with the sealed Northern Empire. Interesting, though Emberglow doubted Lady Turquoise would be interested in having a discussion about the subject. The librarian eyed her suspiciously. “These aren’t for your eyes, squire. Do I need to put some sort of seal on them to keep you from nosing into your master’s business?”

“No,” Emberglow said, as nicely as she could manage. “But I could use some help getting them into my saddlebags.” She stood from her seat. If the rude stallion was so insistent that she couldn’t touch the books, then he could just do the work himself. She stood up, and he rolled his eyes at her. “What? If you don’t even want me to touch them…”

“Fine!” the librarian snarled, and he walked around the desk, picking up the books again and flipping the top open on Emberglow’s saddlebags. Though it was clear he was upset, it was also obvious how much care he took for his charges, gently slipping each one into one of the bags resting on Emberglow’s back. When the books were settled, he buckled the bags closed and smacked her rudely on the rump. “Now get out!”

Emberglow turned, narrowing her eyes at the stallion, for a brief moment considering retaliation. Deciding it wasn’t worth it, she trotted out of the library’s swinging door exit, back into the hallway, where she nearly ran face first into a smirking Sir Steadfast, who was waiting for her.

“From the look on your face, I’d say you just made the acquaintance of our very own Sir Trogium Pulsatorium. We usually just call him Sir Trog, though he hates the nickname. He’d probably protest more if I weren’t in his chain of command.”

“Sir, you knew,” Emberglow said, recovering from her shock. The two of them began walking towards the exit. “When I said I was going to the library, you knew he was on duty as librarian.”

“Guilty,” Sir Steadfast said with a smile, looking not at all guilty. “Sorry if he was a bit of a raincloud on your perfect day.”

“I’m a pegasus, remember?” Emberglow responded, fluffing her wings a bit. “We’re good at kicking rainclouds. Thanks for giving me the idea to use your name. He wouldn’t have let me get out with the books without it.” She hesitated, but then pushed forward. “I didn’t like doing that. It felt dishonest.”

“A clever Knight uses all tools at her disposal to accomplish her task,” Sir Steadfast said. “But I understand what you mean. You’re an honest soul, Emberglow. Politics just isn’t your thing.” He patted the young mare on her shoulder. “Remember, I’m your friend. It’s perfectly okay to use my name to overcome a few hurdles here and there.”

“I will. Thank you, Sir Steadfast,” Emberglow said. It was quite heartening to have Sir Steadfast call himself her friend. She supposed he was, after all, but in a day full of disappointments, it was awfully nice to hear.

The two ponies parted at the entrance, and Emberglow left to deliver the books to her Knight. She felt a little better, but the thought of being alone in the office with a passively hostile Lady Turquoise was troubling. Still, she steeled herself and squared her shoulders, walking back to the Jubilant Overflow building, making her way past the downstairs café and towards the office of her Knight. There were quite a few more ponies downstairs than there were before; three baristas now busily bustled behind the counter, serving the dozen workers, secretaries, and a few odd pink robed Knights sitting at the tables. She moved past them all and up the stairs.

Stopping at door 403, Emberglow hesitated. Should she knock? Technically she was going to be spending a lot of time in this office, but that didn’t make it hers. Making up her mind, she reached out a hoof and knocked.

“Come in?” came the confused voice from inside. Emberglow opened the door, noticing the shocked look on Lady Turquoise’s face. “I didn’t expect you back for a while. Did you get the books?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said. “They’re in the saddlebags.”

“Huh. And the librarian at the Star Shine building didn’t give you a fuss?”

“Well, he did,” Emberglow said, understanding the Knight’s surprise. “I was able to convince him, though.”

“Impressive. It was supposed to take you a little longer, though, so I’ve got nothing planned for you. Want to go pick us up some lunch? I don’t have bits, but the café downstairs is free for the Jubilant and their squires.” When Emberglow looked confused, Lady Turquoise explained. “You know the Jubilant take a vow of poverty. We’re not supposed to keep bits for ourselves, so the order provides our meals and coffee if we’re working in the building. If you want something offsite, however, you’re on your own.”

“Uh, sure,” Emberglow said, sliding the saddlebags off her back onto Lady Turquoise’s desk. “I mean, yes ma’am, I’ll go get us some lunch. What would you like?”

“Just whatever soup and salad of the day they’ve got,” the Knight replied absently, not even looking at Emberglow as she opened the bags to pull out the tomes inside. Emberglow watched her for a brief moment before sighing and leaving the office to head downstairs.

The rest of the day did not improve. After waiting in line to place her and her Knight’s order for a half hour, due to the busy servers, she wandered back upstairs with a rather uninspired split pea soup and garden salad for lunch. She ate, ignored by her Knight as Lady Turquoise read through some of her new books.

After lunch, Lady Turquoise reluctantly showed her the gym in the basement of the annex. They sparred together, and while the Jubilant Knight was an effective trainer, getting tutored in this subject just made Emberglow miss Lofty Tale. It felt like it had been weeks, rather than just this morning, since she had last seen him. When they were done, they showered and got dressed. Finally it was time for Emberglow to leave. Usually she would be staying with Lady Turquoise until dinner time, but all the squires who would not be staying at the dorms any longer would have to head back to the Ivy Seminary to retrieve what belongings they wanted to take home and clear out their rooms. Emberglow found herself eager to leave the Knight’s office.

Her time in the dorms at the Ivy Seminary hadn’t been the best part of her life, but she had some fond memories. As she approached her familiar door, a lone figure was standing next to it, now dressed in white squire robes.

“Lofty!” she called out, excited that her friend was there to meet her. He looked happy to see her as well, but his eyes were troubled. “Is everything going okay with Lady Mercy?”

“Yeah, Lady Mercy’s great,” he said, sounding distracted.

“I’m very jealous, you know,” she responded with a smirk, moving past him into her dorm room. She noticed his saddlebags; they were bulging and full. He had already packed up his room.

“Yeah, I think… I think I’m going to learn a lot from her,” he said, somewhat awkwardly. “Do you, uh, need any help packing up?”

“Lofty, it’s not like we have a lot of personal stuff in the dorms,” Emberglow said. She tried not to think about the one thing she would have liked to have been able to pack up. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem nervous.”

“Um, well,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with one hoof. “I am. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.”

No.

No no no please no.

Please please no. Please not today, Emberglow thought. It would be the last vomit garnish on the horseapple sandwich that had been her day today.

“What’s that?” she asked politely, her brain screaming protest. “You can tell me while I pack up. There’s only a few textbooks I want to take with me, anyways.” She walked into her dorm room, Lofty Tale standing awkwardly outside. Her back was to him as she pulled the books she wanted to keep off the top of her dresser.

“Emberglow, I…. erm…” he stammered, then took a steadying breath. “Emberglow, I like you. I’ve always respected and admired you, and you’re very pretty, I love spending time with you, and I’dreallyliketogooutwithyousometime.”

There it was. She blinked, her eyes suddenly wet as she saw the impending end of one of her first real friendships. There was a pain in her throat, harsh and very real. She’d been dreading this for months, but she still had no idea how to respond. It was hard to breathe.

“Lofty.” She forced herself to speak, not bearing to turn around. She couldn’t see his eyes, wouldn’t look at him. She clenched her own eyes shut as she tried to keep her voice even. “You know I’m going to be entering the Knights Radiant. They swear an oath of chastity. I can’t be with anypony. You know that.”

“Hear me out!” he called out to her desperately. “I know that’s what your plan is. But you’re not locked into your order yet. I think we’d be really good together! And if I’m right, you can pick any of the other orders. It wouldn’t stop either of us becoming Knights!”

“Lofty…” Emberglow sighed. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the real reason. She turned around, her eyes finding his earnest, hopeful face, his eyes full of hope and pleading. This was going to break him. It might break her too, but she had to say it. “No. No, Lofty. I’m going to be a Knight Radiant. It’s been my dream since I was a foal.”

“Dreams can change!” he shot back, desperately. “We could be your new dream, Emberglow. Us, together!”

“That’s not my dream, Lofty,” Emberglow whispered. She walked back over to the door frame, where the stallion waited. His ears were drooped, but his eyes were pinned on her.

“I’m not asking for much, Emberglow. Just that you give us a chance.”

For a heartbeat, she considered it. Would it hurt less to pretend? If she said yes now, only to reject him later? To lie?

No. She wouldn’t lie to Lofty. Her stomach still churned from even the minor deceptions she’d told to Sir Steadfast earlier. She felt sick to even consider it.

“Lofty. Your friendship means so much to me. You’ve been the rock that kept me steady through all of my trials here. I don’t want to lose that. But…”

“Emberglow, please,” Lofty begged. She shook her head, reaching out with one hoof to gently touch his shoulder.

“No, Lofty. The answer is no.” Emberglow gazed into her friend’s stricken face. “You are an amazing pony. You’ll probably go on to make some mare very happy. Some other mare. Not me.”

“I don’t want some other pony,” he protested. The despair in his voice made her ache.

“You can’t have me,” she said, and leaned forward to kiss him gently on the cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t…” Lofty said, shoving her away from him. It wasn’t hard, not enough to hurt, but still violent enough that she was surprised, and nearly tripped. “Don’t… don’t apologize. Don’t touch me. What… what was it all for?”

“What was what for? Our friendship? Lofty, how can you ask that?”

“How could you lead me on?” Lofty hissed, glaring at the floor, his face twisted with a snarl. Emberglow could see tears in his eyes. She felt the same leaking from her own.

“Lofty, I never meant to lead you on,” she cried desperately as she felt the shards of her most important friendship trickling through her hooves. “Never.”

“I… I can’t…” he stammered, looking up at her one more time, before fleeing down the hallway, his hooves beating an angry tempo against the floor.

Emberglow raised a hoof, about to call out to him, but lowered it when he turned around the corner that led to the stairs downwards. Shoulders slumped, ears flat against her head, Emberglow turned back into her old room for the last time, slinking towards her books. Woodenly she slipped them into her bags before rifling through the other drawers, looking for the only other thing she cared to take with her. It was her pair of cutie mark medallions, the only survivors of her destroyed dress. She lovingly placed them alongside the textbooks she was taking, closing up the saddlebags and exiting the dorms. As she trudged away from the dorms, she both hoped and dreaded that Lofty Tale might still be on campus somewhere, but she never caught sight of his light green fur, or his black mane. She supposed it was for the best.

Emberglow had slept her last night in the dorms; her parents were expecting her at home tonight. They would be ready for her now, elated to get to spend more time with her. But she wasn’t sure she was ready for that right now. As she set off for her parent’s home, she walked instead of taking to the skies. She felt too heavy to fly, her wings limp at her sides.

The shop looked little different than it had when she had gone into the Ivy Seminary. There was a dent in the sign above the door; some drunk pegasus had run into the sign mid-flight a few months ago, and her parents had not bothered to fix it quite yet. The moon and stars were out, and most of the street was dark besides the gas lamps that would remain on until sunrise. Her parent’s shop was dark, but she could see the lights on in the second floor living room, and the shadows moving as her parents moved about the room. She reached out to try the door; it was unlocked. She let herself in without knocking.

“I’m home,” she called upstairs to her parents. She tried to inject her voice with some semblance of enthusiasm. It wasn’t very effective.

“In the living room, sweetie. Lock the door behind you and come up and tell us about your day,” Needle Point’s voice came from upstairs. “We have cupcakes.”

Cupcakes sounded divine right now. She closed and locked the door behind her before heading up the spiral staircase into the living room. Her parents were waiting for her, sitting on the couch. There was a plate of cupcakes on the coffee table, and both Needle Point and Textile were beaming, though their expressions fell when they noticed hers.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Needle Point asked instantly. Emberglow said nothing, but sat down on the couch between them with a flop. She didn’t even know where to begin, so she simply reached out and snagged a cupcake. They had red frosting on the top; Emberglow was willing to bet the insides were rose pink. She took a bite; it was pink on the inside, with sprinkles. It was delicious. She wolfed down the cupcake before leaning into her mother, burying her face in the older mare’s chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Emberglow shook her head. She didn’t want either of her parents to see her tear filled eyes, either. She felt her father’s hooves go around the both of them.

“No? Okay. Do you just want to cuddle then?” her mother asked, and Emberglow nodded, her mother’s fur tickling at her snout as she moved her face.

“Well whatever it is, it can always be better with a few cupcakes and a hug from mom, right?” her dad said, and Emberglow felt herself laughing, reaching her hooves around her mother and squeezing them together tightly.

She never did manage to tell her parents about her day before it was time to sleep, though she promised to talk about it over breakfast. After the uniform blankets and mattresses of the dormitory, her own bed at home, with a hoof-made quilt from her mother, felt like a warm hug from the mare. She expected to be up late thinking about everything that had gone wrong today. Instead, she was asleep in minutes, her exhausted mind shutting off much sooner than she thought.

Emberglow didn’t frequently dream, and when she did, she was usually flying. This time she was swimming, flailing around in a giant pool. She’d never learned how to swim, and her hooves and wings thrashed about, desperately trying to stay afloat in the salty liquid she was suspended in. Every time she went under, her mouth and lungs would fill with liquid. She desperately looked around for something to grab hold of, but there was nothing nearby. Her robes were drenched, their soaked weight weighing her down and dragging her into the depths of the pool. Desperately, she glanced upward at the moon, the only light she could see.

The moon was huge, much larger than normal. A silver, slim crescent hung in the sky, surrounded by twinkling stars that seemed to drip from the tip of the crescent moon like tears. The starlight seemed to dance in the sky as it dripped down into the ocean Emberglow was drowning in.

As she slipped under the waves, her sodden wings fluttering uselessly in the water, she reached out with a single desperate hoof towards the moon. She didn’t know how she knew, but she somehow understood that the moon was somehow more than just a light in the sky.

“Please!” she cried out, saltwater slipping through her lips and into her lungs. She sputtered and coughed. She didn’t even know what she was asking for.

It was then that the moon spoke. A kind, sweet voice, laced with desperation and hopelessness, echoed from the beautiful sliver.

“I’m sorry!” the voice sobbed. “I’m so sorry! I can’t do it! I can’t reach them! I have no power here!”

Emberglow tried to call out to the moon, to catch her attention. She didn’t even know what she was going to say; comfort her, maybe, or beg her to stop crying. Maybe ask her for help so the little pegasus wouldn’t drown. But every time she tried to open her mouth to call out, the salty liquid of her tears filled Emberglow’s mouth.

“I no longer have power here,” she repeated again. “I have failed again, sister.”

“No…” came a whispered response, floating through the air like a gentle breeze. A soothing voice, full of wisdom and compassion, but weak. “They see you, sister. They hear you…”

“What?” the voice asked. The surface of the moon shimmered, and for a brief instant Emberglow thought she saw an image in the silver moonlight; the figure of a dark-furred unicorn mare with wings. “Oh, you hear me?” The winged and horned pony reached down with one hoof and Emberglow woke up with a short scream.

Interlude: Dreams of Destiny

Emberglow was not the only pony that night who dreamed of the mare in the moon. There were four others.

A pony, far to the north in a small, snow-covered kingdom hidden behind a magical barrier created by the Empress, also dreamed of drowning in an ocean of tears beneath a silver crescent moon. She too awoke with a startled scream. But hearing the weeping mare, seeing her distress and anxiety, filled the young pony with purpose and inspiration. She went running into her father’s room, shouting excitedly about her destiny and her purpose. Her father tried to be excited for her self-discovery, despite the fact that she had burst into his room shouting in the middle of the night.

A pegasus stallion, living far across the sea in Zebrica, also dreamed. He had traveled thousands of miles from his home to train, giving everything he had in order to serve and protect the stallion he loved. He had seen the pain in the unicorn’s eyes, and would do anything to ease that hurt. It was the same exhausted, heartbroken look he saw in the eyes of the mare in the moon. The dream left him unsettled; it was too real, somehow, to be ignored. He woke in the middle of the night, lighting the tiny flashlight that was his only source of light in this Zebrican military camp. He shined the light on his journal, and began to write out the details of the dream.

A unicorn, living deep under a mountain in a hidden city, also dreamed of the mare. He was used to nightmares; they were like an old enemy, always dogging his steps and chasing his restless nights. He discounted the nocturnal vision, however, rolling over in his sleep, mumbling. “Leave me alone, Luna. You too, Celestia. You’re dead, remember? I’m doing the best I can, so don’t pester me.” He never even opened his oddly colored eyes.

Last of all was an earth pony, a heartbroken teenager. He couldn’t even understand why, but looking up at the weeping moon, he felt a kinship with her. He too wanted to cry enough tears to drown himself with. But something about the soft desperation in her voice humbled him, and gave him perspective. He longed to reach out, to comfort her, to solve whatever issues had her sobbing. “You’re stronger than this,” he told himself. “You’re a Knight. Well, almost. Whatever hurt you have can’t be as bad as what’s making her cry.”

And deep underground, underneath the ruins of a long dead city, a pony slept, locked away by ancient magic, kept safe encircled by the roots of a primordial tree.

Chapter 8

Letter, received by Pontiff Mystihaze, dated 324 AF

To whom it may concern-

We of the Crystal Empire have received your messages, and heard the words of your messengers. We have read your supposed ‘holy book’ and the lies and deceptions you claim as truth.

We have watched with horror and disgust as you have persecuted your own citizens. We have personally dried their tears as they shared stories of torture and misery.

We wept at the news that you executed Sunset Shimmer, a dear, close friend of Our own beloved aunt.

We recoil with disgust at the way your history treats our great aunts, Celestia and Luna.

We have resolved the following:

We do not recognize any claim you or yours have over the Crystal Empire. Any political connection between us is severed.

We do not recognize you as the legitimate government of Equestria. In the absence of the late Princess Twilight Sparkle, we support the election of a Regent, to govern until Princess Twilight’s true alicorn successor can be found. The exiled ponies of Equestria have chosen a unicorn, Notary Public, as their Regent, in free and fair elections.

No Diarchy Knight shall set foot in our sovereign land.

Your missionaries are not welcome here.

We do not need your trade or your commerce.

We will remain separate from you until such time that you have rejected bigotry and hatred, and choose to treat your fellow ponies with respect and kindness.

With Greatest Disdain-

Princess Flurry Heart

Defender of the North, Proud Daughter of Empress Cadence and the Unicorn Prince Shining Armor

Trueborn Alicorn, Keeper of the Ancient Magics of Harmony

Raiser of the Sun and the Moon

A second letter is attached to the first, dated the same.

We, the assembled and allied monarchs of the Crystal Empire, do give the full weight of our unanimous approval and support to the daughter of our liege lady, Princess Flurry Heart. We stand as one with her, and oppose the usurpers and traitors who hold the government of Equestria.

Signed,

Notary Public, Regent in absentia of Equestria

Princess Valinya of Yakyakistan

Clifford the Red, Diamond Dog High Alpha

Queen Chrysalis II of [REDACTED]

1110 AF, New Canterlot City

The days had become a monotonous drone. Every morning, Emberglow woke up, spending a pleasant breakfast with her parents before reporting to her Knight. Then she did whatever inane busywork Lady Turquoise had prepared for her, while the Knight busied herself with whatever research she was doing into the Northern Empire. Each afternoon they engaged in fitness training and sparring, which remained an exercise in patience for Emberglow due to her ongoing struggles with martial arts. On Wednesday evenings she went to sermons, but now she had to attend with her Knight, rather than her family.

As a Knight Jubilant, Lady Turquoise was an honorary confessor, and as such was frequently asked to speak short sermons of her own. She was well spoken, with a cheerful, musical cadence to her sermons that delighted her listeners. It seemed at odds with the short, often surly behavior Emberglow encountered in the Knight’s office, which was a dissonance that made Emberglow uncomfortable. It wasn’t that the Knight was dishonest, or even a bad pony. She was just abrasive in private, and Emberglow didn’t really know how to react.

It didn’t help that she was currently cut off from her best friend. Sure, talking things out with her parents had helped a little bit, as had the cupcakes; there was a kind of magic in sugar and frosting and rainbow sprinkles that defied explanation. But there was still always a raw, aching abscess in her chest whenever she thought about Lofty and the friendship she had lost.

Emberglow knew where he was living, of course. The Tale family had two different manses around New Canterlot City, and before their fallout Lofty had told her where he would be staying. Emberglow had flown past the gated grounds of the modest estate twice, and each time she had paused to stare at the huge mansion for several moments. Both times, though, she’d lost her nerve before she could even approach the polished gate. She wanted to talk to him, but she had no idea where she would begin. She didn’t even know if he would be home when she went by. Or if he would even agree to see her, for that matter.

It was with a heavy and conflicted heart, then, that Emberglow approached the Jubilant Annex about a month after starting her squiring. By now, the baristas at the café were well aware of her standing order, and an aproned earth pony was already standing ready with a tray bearing two steaming black coffees for her when she stepped through the front door. She took the tray and trudged up the stairs towards Lady Turquoise’s office with drooping ears and tail, slipping in to see that Lady Turquoise was already poring over a heavy tome splayed open on her desk. The only greeting the Knight spared Emberglow was an impatient grunt.

It was a pattern that Emberglow was sadly now accustomed to. She would enter with the coffee, deliver Lady Turquoise’s drink to her, receive at best a grunt or a single, grudging word of gratitude, and then she would sit down and wait to be acknowledged. Once she’d tried to ask if there was anything she could do to help, and had received only a glare in response.

This morning didn’t look to be shaping up any better; Lady Turquoise’s mane was in disarray, and her eyes were surrounded by the dark rings of sleep deprivation. The Knight barely looked up to accept her coffee cup, dragging the steaming mug over with a hoof and taking a quick sip, only to jerk away and nearly drop the mug at the temperature.

“Um, it’s hot,” Emberglow ventured, earning herself a glare from the Knight. She merely shrugged in response, blowing at the surface of her own drink before taking a cautious sip. “Making any progress, my Lady?” she asked casually. Another grunt. “Anything I can help with?” No response. Emberglow couldn’t help a disappointed sigh from escaping her lips, which finally earned the attention of the older Knight.

“Am I boring you, squire?” Lady Turquoise asked, her voice strained and impatient.

“No, ma’am,” Emberglow said quickly, but the Knight wouldn’t be put off that easily.

“Have I offended you somehow, squire? Maybe your experiences are not as stimulating as you’re used to, hmm?” Lady Turquoise snarled, standing.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” Emberglow yelped, suddenly nervous at the unexpected show of temper from her Knight. Lady Turquoise glared at her for a second, before a wave of weariness washed over the older mare’s expression.

“Sorry,” Lady Turquoise muttered, slumping back into her pillow with a sigh of exasperation.

“Your research isn’t going well?” Emberglow ventured cautiously. The Knight shook her head.

“I was up so late last night I fell asleep at my desk. When I woke up, I picked up where I left off. More useless records, more empty theories, more nothing.”

“You’re researching the Northern Empire?” Emberglow asked, remembering the books she’d fetched for Lady Turquoise on their first day together. Lady Turquoise nodded absently. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Lady Turquoise waved a hoof dismissively. It was the same thing every time Emberglow had asked about whatever her mysterious project was. “It’s all a waste of time anyways.”

“I thought you called it your life’s work?” Emberglow asked. Lady Turquoise snorted.

“Life’s work, stymied by the Mystics, the Adamant, and even my own brothers and sisters.” Her voice trailed off in a defeated sigh. “Nopony’s interested in Lady Turquoise’s pet project.”

“You never asked,” Emberglow muttered, before she could stop herself. She hastily took a sip of her coffee, trying to hide her sudden impulsive words behind the gesture. It didn’t work — she could see Lady Turquoise’s glare from behind her cup. Nervously, she set the cup back down.

“What was that, Squire Emberglow?” Lady Turquoise asked, a cold anger overlaying the weariness in her voice.

Emberglow twiddled her hooves, glancing down at them nervously as her ears splayed back. “You never asked me if I was interested, Lady Turquoise. You’ve never really let me help, except for fetching your books and notes. You’ve never even told me what the project is.”

“You’re a squire, Emberglow,” Lady Turquoise said dismissively. Emberglow felt a pang of anger of her own, surging at the condescension and contempt in Lady Turquoise’s tone. “There’s nothing really you could do—”

“You never asked!” Emberglow shouted, stomping a hoof on the office floor. Lady Turquoise looked up in surprise, and even Emberglow jumped at the sudden volume of her voice. But it was too late to take back now. Like water rushing from a breaking dam or toothpaste out of the tube, once Emberglow had shouted her anger flowed out of her without filter. “You never once asked me for help! You never once used me as a resource! All I’ve ever been is a burden, a punishment! You stubborn mule! Do you even realize how aggravating it is to come in here, day after day, and sit here and watch as you drive both of us crazy? Why can’t you just use me as the tool and the help that I’m supposed to be?” She banged a hoof down on the desk for emphasis, and the rattling of the wood knocked her half-full ceramic coffee mug to the floor. It clattered with a splash of hot liquid all over Emberglow’s front hooves, and the sharp sting of pain across her legs jolted her out of her tirade. She yelped and jerked to her hooves, away from the steaming liquid.

A silence fell over the pair. As the seconds ticked by, Emberglow was slowly filled with a cold, oozing terror.

"Are you done?” Lady Turquoise finally whispered, her voice quivering with rage. Emberglow looked up with growing dread, her eyes slowly raising up the cluttered desk, over the open book, and finally to the angrily burning eyes of her Knight. She cringed at the rage she saw, looking away. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and all she could do was nod. “Good. Get out.”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow whimpered as she fled the office. She didn’t bother to try and protect her dignity while dashing out of the Jubilant Annex; her hooves pounded the floor as she galloped down the stairs and out the front door, earning herself several shocked looks. As soon as she was outside she took wing, spreading her feathered appendages and launching herself into flight away from the building and her Knight.

Outside, the day was overcast. While there weren’t nearly enough pegasi to keep the entirety of the Diarchy in controlled weather patterns, the New Canterlot City Weather Bureau kept the skies above the capitol to a tight schedule. Rain and storms were scheduled weeks in advance, and announced in the newspaper. Emberglow hadn’t been paying much attention to the weather news; perhaps it was going to rain today, or maybe the schedule had called simply for cloud cover. There were a few weather ponies in the skies, dressed in the distinct bright orange uniforms of their profession. They looked questioningly in her direction as she gained altitude, but nopony bothered or challenged her. Her squire’s robes even earned her a few respectful nods. She flew until she found a cloud that was solid enough to land on, and far enough from any of the workers who were building the cloud cover. Once she found a suitable cloud, Emberglow sat down to think.

She let out a surprised moan of relief as she felt the cool moisture on her burned hooves. She looked down, remembering the hot coffee she’d spilled all over herself. With her trained eye, she looked at the burns; first degree at most, not a big concern. She slumped down into the cold wet cloud, ignoring the temperature as she tried to lose herself in her thoughts.

Things were bad. Not ‘get kicked out of Squirehood’ bad, but certainly ‘stern censure by her Knight, and by the dean of the Ivy Seminary’ bad. Squires may not be permanent residents at the Seminary any longer, but they were still students, and their assessments and examinations were still conducted by Knights assigned to the Seminary. What happened to a Squire who mouthed off to her Knight? It was unthinkable, and yet she had done it.

By all the Saints, what had she been thinking? What would she do now? She slumped into the cloud, her natural pegasus resilience protecting her from the cold wet seeping into her robes. She lost herself in the quiet peacefulness of the cloud.

“Excuse me, my Lady?” said a soft voice from behind her. Emberglow jumped to her hooves, startled. She glanced behind to see an older pegasus mare, dressed in a weather worker uniform.

“Um, sorry, am I in your way?” Emberglow said worriedly. “And I’m a Squire, not a Knight. You don’t have to call me Lady.”

“Of course, uh, ma’am,” the pegasus said. She was older, her orange hair fading to silver, with an eggshell white coat. “I’m sorry to bother you…” She was hovering just above the cloud line, and she dropped down onto her hooves, bouncing gently on the cloud. Emberglow watched her forehooves twitch, as if the older mare was about to bow to her. It was expected for Knights, but she was merely a Squire. The weather mare stopped herself, with great effort. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“I’m just fine, thank you,” Emberglow said politely. “I’m sorry if I’ve bothered you.”

“Not at all!” the weather mare protested. “I just need to bounce on this cloud a bit to let the rain out.”

“I am in your way,” Emberglow said, flapping her wings just enough to lift off the cloud. “I’m so sorry.”

The mare opened her mouth to protest the apology, closed it again, and then shrugged. While Emberglow watched, curious, the mare kicked gently off of the cloud and began bouncing on it, made solid and spongy by the innate pegasus magic in her hooves. As the mare bounced, rain began to sprinkle down on the city below.

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions about what you’re doing?” Emberglow asked. “You don’t have to say yes,” she added hastily, hopefully to forestall any attempt by the mare to assent only out of respect for Emberglow’s position.

“Not at all,” the mare said. “This part of the job’s really easy. No science or skill or training needed, just bouncing. All the hard work is done.” Emberglow could see other weather ponies in the distance, each one bouncing on clouds that had been painstakingly placed to create a perfect cloud cover.

“Does the bouncing affect the rate of rainfall?” Emberglow asked.

“Yup. Faster bouncing means more of a downpour, slower a light misting. Our schedule today called for a drizzle, so it’s gentle, relaxing bouncing for us today.” The older mare eyed the young Squire up and down as she hovered in the air, taking special note of the squire’s face. “Would you like to try?”

“Me? Uh, I’m not a weather mare,” Emberglow said uncertainly.

“Bah, that doesn’t matter,” the old pony scoffed. “Like I said, all the hard stuff’s done, ma’am. It doesn’t take any sort of skill or practice. Give it a try. Nice, slow bounces like I was doing, nothing taxing.”

Emberglow landed on the cloud, once again feeling the strange mix of wetness and fluffiness on her hooves. She tensed her muscles and jumped gently into the air. The cloud was much springier than she had expected, the natural bounce to the cloud sending her higher than she expected. The sensation of bouncing on the cloud reminded her of jumping on her parent’s queen size bed as a foal. She giggled at both the sensation and the mental image, adjusting her next bounce so that it would have less force.

“You get to do this all the time?” Emberglow asked with a grin. “And you get paid?” The older mare laughed.

“Not often enough. I love a good rainstorm, if only for the bouncing,” the weather mare said as she laughed. Emberglow liked her voice. She’d never met her grandparents, who had all passed on before she was born, but the old mare sounded like her mental image of a grandmother. “Um, it looks like you needed a bit of bouncing yourself, ma’am.”

“Did I really look that off?” Emberglow asked as she continued to bounce on her cloud.

“Stormier than the cloud you’re on, ma’am,” the weather mare replied. “I always thought a good bounce on a cloud was the perfect solution for a cloudy day.”

“Literally, right?” Emberglow said, laughing. “My family’s all earth ponies, so they always use cupcakes.”

“Hah! That’d work too,” the weather mare said.

“You won’t get in trouble because I’m doing your job?” she asked. The weather mare shook her head.

“No ma’am,” the pony replied. “I’ll be bouncing on over thirty spots over the next four hours. I don’t think anypony will mind at all if you take a few moments at one of the spots.”

“Bouncing at different spots?” Emberglow asked. The work, while silly and fun in a way that brought back foalhood memories, was physically more difficult than she thought it would be. “Why’s that?”

“Rainfall, when it occurs without pegasus intervention, occurs in patches and sheets, at random. We move around to simulate a more uneven pattern, to give a more realistic experience to the ponies down below.”

“Don’t you get tired?” Emberglow asked, looking at the mare’s legs. She was old, yes, but fit; there was no fat on the weather mare at all.

“Of course we do, ma’am. It takes a strong pony to do this work, whatever the ground-bound think. Lots of endurance. Doesn’t mean it’s not fun, though.”

“Very fun,” Emberglow said. “Um, I just realized I don’t know your name. I’m Emberglow.”

“Painted Sunrise. Friends call me Paint, ma’am.”

“May I call you Paint, then?” Emberglow laughed. “You helped lift me out of my funk, and you let me bounce on your cloud.”

“Yeah, such a sacrifice I made, letting you do the job I’m getting paid to do,” Painted Sunrise said. Emberglow giggled. “Be my guest.”

“Okay, Paint,” Emberglow said. “And thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am,” Paint said, waving her off with a hoof. “Ya don’t raise six foals without picking up the signs of a good teenaged funk in progress, or come up with a few strategies for diffusing one.”

“Six?” Emberglow said.

“And twelve grandfoals, and counting. Thirteen by next month. With seven pegasi among them, thank the Saints!” Paint said with obvious pride. Emberglow understood the pride. With that many grandfoals, two or three pegasi would have been the statistically likely number. Having seven was clearly a sign of the Saint’s favor.

“You must have been doing something right, then,” Emberglow said.

“I hope so,” Paint replied. The two mares chatted politely about Paint’s family for nearly a half hour. The older grandmother mare was more than happy to brag about her grandfoals, and Emberglow didn’t have any problem letting the weather pony speak about her family. Paint was perfectly polite, and carefully never asked Emberglow about the nature of her earlier mood. After a half hour, Paint reluctantly mentioned that she had to move on to a different spot.

“Thanks so much for letting me bounce the cloud, and for the chat,” Emberglow said. “It was exactly what I needed.”

“No problem at all, dear. I mean, uh, ma’am,” Paint said. “Don’t suppose you’d like a word of advice from somepony who’s seen a few more years from you?”

“Uh, sure,” Emberglow said, and the older mare patted her on the withers.

“Whatever it is that’s got you down, it can’t be so bad,” Paint said. “Just be patient, and let things play out. You’ll see the other side of the clouds soon enough. And if you don’t, just find one to bounce on, okay? Nopony in the Weather Service is gonna mind if you flit on up here for a bit of relaxation, hmm? It’s practically in your blood. We pegasi’re built to work up here, even if some of us choose other, harder paths.” She glanced at the symbol of the Saints embroidered on Emberglow’s slightly damp robes. “Honor to you, Squire Emberglow. Thanks for giving me an extra break today.”

“Thank you, Paint. Maybe I’ll come up to visit next time there’s rain scheduled.”

“You do that, ma’am.” Paint said with a smile, as Emberglow flapped her wings, gaining only a few feet of altitude before slipping through the rain cloud towards the ground. The air above the cloud had been a bit chilly and damp, but as soon as she moved through the wet cloud to below, she was spattered with the light rain as she flew through it. It didn’t take more than a second for Emberglow to remember why she hated flying in the rain. While trying to shield her eyes with one hoof, she was barely able to identify Merchant’s Walk, let alone Emerald Street. It wasn’t that the rain was too hard, it was just that Emberglow was quite unfamiliar with finding her way home from the air. Though the rain didn’t help either.

After a long few minutes of flying and a bit of trial and error, she managed to find her way to the Merchant’s walk and landed on the street. She stayed earthbound while she trotted her way to her parents’ shop. Once on the ground, it was pretty easy to find her way in the light rain.

“Silly mare! Why are you out in the rain!?” came a familiar friendly voice, interrupting Emberglow right before she reached her parent’s shop. The lights that shone out of Oak Chips’ shop were bright, lighting up the gloomy late morning with beams that spilled out into the street. The carved figurines that filled the window displays cast oddly cheerful shadows into the street. The door was open, and the old, tan colored earth pony looked out into the drizzle at Emberglow. “Come in for a moment, there is something I need to show you.” Her friend’s voice sounded odd, as if concerned. “I will make coffee. Silly mares shouldn’t be out in the rain anyways, getting cold, getting sick. Aren’t you some kind of doctor?”

“Some kind, maybe,” Emberglow said with a giggle. “And I’ve been drinking real coffee from the Jubilant Annex, brewed by professionals. It’s spoiled me for the instant stuff.” She followed him inside, and he closed the door behind her.

“Wait here,” Oak Chips said, pointing at the welcome mat just inside his door. Emberglow was content to wait and drip on the mat as he stepped into his shop’s back room to fetch her a towel. She took the time to look around his shop.

Oak Chip’s shop was an exercise in controlled chaos. The shelves and display counters were all a mismatched hodgepodge of different styles, colors, materials, and ages. The carved wooden figurines that were displayed all around his shop also kept to no theme or pattern, though most were different kinds of ponies. Each one had a unique costume and pose, and some were even articulate; Oak Chips had once shown her the clever little metal hinges he used to give the toys some degree of movement. There were also non ponies; griffons and dragons and zebras. There were monsters like the Timberwolf she’d seen him carving years ago.

Emberglow hadn’t been in for a few months, but she loved his store. She loved his figurines, carved with a range of detail, from simplistic foal’s toys to exquisite lifelike works of art. She loved his silly collection of shelves and counters. She loved the smells; wood shavings, glues, stains, paint, and instant coffee. Emberglow could even see a half-full mug sitting next to the rocking chair that Oak Chips would drag outside on sunny days. It now sat next to a shelf full of half-finished tiny wooden ponies. Emberglow recognized a chess set in progress; she could identify each piece he had completed.

Oak Chips reemerged bearing a clean but slightly threadbare yellow towel. He tossed it to Emberglow, who caught it with a quiet “thanks”. She took a moment to dry off her fur and feathers, patting down her mane and tail as well. She was sure she looked a mess.

“What did you need to show me? You sounded worried,” Emberglow asked.

“Do you know a stallion Squire with a black mane, and green fur? Earth pony?”

“Lofty?” Emberglow said, surprised. “How do you know Lofty?”

“Ah, you do know him. Is he your stallionfriend?”

“No!” Emberglow yelped. Oak Chips laughed at her panic. “We’re just friends. Or, we were. I don’t know now.”

“A spurned lover, then?” Oak Chips teased. Emberglow felt her face heating, and she hid it by scrubbing her face with the towel. “Sorry, silly mare. I couldn’t help myself.”

“How do you know him?” Emberglow repeated her question, her voice muffled by the towel. She knew she wasn’t quite ready to stop hiding her face just yet.

“He’s currently passed out, very drunk, on the bed in my guest room,” Oak Chips said casually.

“What?” she yelped, this time completely dropping her towel in shock. Oak Chips eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Oh, you young ponies and your drama. So exciting. Is better than a book, sometimes,” he sighed melodramatically.

“Oak Chips,” Emberglow growled, her voice annoyed. “Is he okay? What happened?”

“Silly stallion was stumbling down the road towards your parent’s shop, in the middle of the rain, very unsteady on his hooves. Even all of the rain hadn’t washed off the stench of wine and whiskey. You young people have no appreciation for real drink, only cheap terrible alcohol. He was calling out for you. Loudly. Lucky nopony else was on the street to hear him, it might have been embarrassing.”

“So what happened?”

“I convinced silly stallion to come inside out of the rain. Told him I’d find you and bring you here. He hugged me, said thank you, then immediately passed out. I lifted silly stallion into my guest bed and tucked him in. When he wakes up, we feed him coffee and water so maybe we can find out why he was tripping down the street crying your name, hmm?”

“Oh Saints,” Emberglow moaned. “Are you sure nopony heard him?”

“Nopony was out in the rain, Emberglow. Your secret love affair with silly stallion is safely secret, though it wouldn’t have been for long if I hadn’t convinced him to come in.”

“I told you, it’s not… he’s not… grr!” Emberglow snarled with frustration. “Look, we were friends, he asked me out, and I turned him down. He took it very poorly, and we haven’t spoken in weeks. This is the first I’ve heard from him since we fought.”

“Why do you have to spoil an old stallion’s fun, hmm? You are rude, silly mare.” Oak Chips said with an amused look at her. “All dry?” Emberglow nodded. “Good. I’ll get us coffee while we wait for Sleeping Beauty to sober up a bit. Then we find out why he needed to brave the storm to come meet his lady love, hmm?”

“I’d rather not,” Emberglow growled.

“Don’t be so dramatic, silly mare. Come, help me with the coffee and then you can check on your friend with your doctor hocus-pocus to make sure he’s okay,” Oak Chips said. He beckoned her toward the kitchen, and she followed him in.

Oak Chips’ kitchen was just like his shop, a hodgepodge of dishes and appliances that he’d collected over decades. The kitchen table was clearly never used for actual meals; Emberglow had always seen him eat in his shop, or in his chair just outside his front door. The weathered table was piled with mail and newspapers. His dishes had been collected over his life; no two matched, and each one had a story behind it. Emberglow had heard several.

She helped him prepare three mugs of coffee, pulling mismatched stoneware mugs from his cluttered cupboards, then filled a fourth mug with cool water from the sink. Then Oak Chips showed her to the guest room.

For some reason, Emberglow had expected snoring. Certainly, the figure of Lofty Tale sprawled out on the bed, limbs akimbo and drool leaking from his open maw, suggested that a loud, grating snore should be emanating from the drunken picture. He was twitching in his sleep, and he’d kicked off the sheets that Oak Chips had drawn over him. He was not wearing his squire robes; instead, he was wearing a ruffled loose white shirt and brown pants. Emberglow knew enough from working with her parents to know that the materials alone that made up his clothing would cost about half as much as the entire inventory in her parent’s shop. It hurt her almost physically to see the silk of his shirt rumpled and folded, soaked with water and stained with alcohol. Lofty slept fitfully, twitching and kicking as his brow furrowed.

The room itself was bland and comfortable, but there was nothing of Oak Chips in the sparse décor. There was a nightstand and a small chest of drawers, and the only hint of personality in the bedroom was a hand sewn comforter, now kicked off into a heap at the base of the bed. There were also two pillows on the floor that Lofty had apparently kicked off. Oak Chips set down the tray of mugs right on the nightstand, fairly close to Lofty’s head. Emberglow could have sworn she saw his nostrils twitch as the scent of coffee wafted through the room.

“That should wake him up, hmm?” Oak Chips said, pulling over one of the pillows to sit. Emberglow did likewise.

“Maybe if only to complain,” Emberglow said with a snort, remembering all of the times Lofty Tale had complained about the cheap coffee served in the Ivy Seminary. She hadn’t understood then what he’d meant. Not until discovering the café at the Jubilant Annex.

“Bah. There is nothing wrong with my coffee,” Oak Chips grunted, sounding offended, though Emberglow knew the old pony well enough to hear the tease in his voice. “Is cheap, saves me money for more important things.”

“It’s just fine, Oak,” Emberglow said, retrieving her cup and taking a sip. It wasn’t really, but she could humor the old stallion. He rolled his eyes, sensing the deflection, but began to drink his own beverage.

“What are you going to say to him when he wakes up?” Oak Chips asked softly. There was no hint of teasing in his voice now, but Emberglow still slumped down in her seat, shoulders and ears drooping.

“I don’t know,” Emberglow whispered. “I just want to be friends again.”

“Stallions are fragile creatures, silly mare.”

“I know. I don’t want to break him. I never did.”

“I know, Emberglow,” Oak Chips said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. “When he wakes, make him drink water and coffee. Nothing will really make him sober up quicker, but you’ll be able to have a conversation. You young ponies and your drama. Fun, but too much fun for old bones. I’m going to finish my latest project.”

“The chess set? Looks good so far,” Emberglow said, but her heart wasn’t in the banter. Oak gave her a grin and slipped out of the room with his own mug, and Emberglow settled in to wait.

It didn’t take long, but that didn’t mean that Emberglow wasn’t tempted to upend the cool water cup on her friend to expedite the process. Finally he stirred with a moan, and two bleary eyes opened to take in the room.

“Where am I?” Lofty Tale slurred drunkenly, his eyes unfocused.

“Hey, Lofty. You’re in a friend’s house. It was raining, so he made you come inside before you caught something.” Or said or did something too embarrassing, Emberglow thought but didn’t say.

“Emberglow? Izzat you? Ugh, I smell cafeteria coffee, we at the Seminary?”

“No, we’re at a friend’s house near my parent’s shop. Where you were headed, drunk, crying out my name and weaving down the street.”

“I was? Uh… oh. Yeah, maybe. I don’t remember?” Lofty closed his eyes. “I’mma sleep some more, kay?”

“Lofty…” Emberglow began with a sigh. “Please sit up for a moment. Have some coffee. I think we might need to talk. I want to talk.”

“You wanna talk?” Lofty mumbled, his eyes still closed. “You don’t wanna talk. You hate me.”

The words stung more than Emberglow had expected. “Lofty I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I’ve missed you these past weeks. Missed you so much. I just didn’t know what to say.” She blinked at the wetness in her eyes, nudging the tray on the nightstand towards the stallion to hide her tears. “Here, drink these.” He eyed the coffee suspiciously, and the glass of water.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Coffee and water. If we’re going to talk, I’m going to need you just a little bit more lucid.”

“Kay,” Lofty grunted. He sat up unsteadily and reached for the coffee mug. She had to help his shaky hooves as he lifted the beverage to his lips. “Yuck.”

“Hush, you. My friend isn’t rich. Not everypony can afford fancy coffee.”

“Not that. No cream or sugar. Yuck.”

“Drunk beggars can’t be choosers. Drink the coffee and the water.”

It was clear from Lofty Tale’s confused look that he didn’t quite comprehend the situation quite yet, but something in Emberglow’s commanding tone made him comply. Emberglow watched him as he sat on the bed and drank the liquids. His eyes were darting about the room, looking at everything except Emberglow’s eyes.

Emberglow was glad there was no clock in Oak Chips’ guest room, so she couldn’t count the minutes that passed. It was a painful silence as the two young ponies tried very hard to ignore each other. Each second hurt, but the weight of the moment was pressing so hard against Emberglow that she was terrified to open her mouth and end it. She felt like she was in a mountain avalanche zone, where a single out of place sound or word could cause disaster to crash down on their heads. From what she could see of Lofty’s expression, it looked like he felt the same.

It felt like an eternity passed, but soon the tension was too much, and she finally broke the silence.

“I missed you,” Emberglow whispered. It was the same thing she’d said earlier.

“Kinda your fault,” Lofty muttered, but then flinched. “Sorry. I don’t mean that.”

“It’s okay if you do,” Emberglow breathed, a lump in her throat. “I saw what was happening, and I did nothing to stop you. I could have said something sooner.”

Lofty grunted. The silence descended again, settling over the room like a cold fog. Finally Lofty stood, the sudden movement unsteady. Emberglow reached out to catch him if he fell, but a single glance stopped her. It wasn’t an angry glance, but there was clear rejection in his eyes.

“Please don’t go. We need to talk,” she pleaded.

“Not going anywhere,” Lofty said, with an odd urgency in his voice. “Except the little stallion’s room. Where-?“ Fortunately, Emberglow had been a guest at this shop often enough to know where the washroom was. She rose quickly to open the door for Lofty.

“It’s just the door on your right,” Emberglow said, pointing, as Lofty stumbled past her into the bathroom. Oak Chips was nowhere to be seen, though Emberglow could hear the sounds of his knife scraping against wood from his usual place at the front of the shop. He closed the door behind him, and Emberglow wandered out into the shop floor to give the stallion some privacy. She didn’t want to intrude on Oak Chip’s work, as the old pony seemed deeply engrossed in the finer details of his carving. He glanced up briefly as she entered.

“Your friend okay?” he asked, and Emberglow could have hugged him for not teasing her. She nodded.

“Bathroom break.”

“That’ll happen,” Oak Chips nodded sagely. “Your talk going well?”

“No,” Emberglow sighed. Oak Chips watched her to see if she would say more. Finally he shrugged and went back to his carving. Finally she heard the sound of Lofty Tale turning on the bathroom sink to wash his hooves, then the bathroom door opened. She listened to the young stallion’s hoofsteps as he went back into the guest room, hesitating a moment before following after him. She gently closed the door behind her with a quiet click.

Lofty was back on the bed, sitting down, his gaze towards the wall. He held the warm coffee mug in his hooves.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he muttered as Emberglow trotted in after him. She sat down on the bed next to Lofty, trying to ignore how much it hurt when he flinched away.

“Start with why you’re this drunk, and it’s not even lunchtime yet,” Emberglow scolded, unable to keep the reproach out of her voice.

“Lady Mercy gave me the day off. She called it a ‘mental health day’. I’ve been having a rough time since we last spoke, and even Lady Mercy has noticed,” he admitted. “As soon as I showed up this morning, she sent me away. I had nothing better to do, so-“

“So you got smashed?” Emberglow asked. It was an effort to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“You’ve never met any of my family, have you?” he retorted. “If you had, you wouldn’t be so judgmental about a desire to drink. My older sister is the head of the household. She hates me, and has never been shy about the fact. My parents have always found some reason to be disappointed in everything I do. Honestly, the only room in the entire manor that was safe from their disapproving eyebrows and their oily condescension is the family liquor vault.”

“So you hid there so you could show off your prodigious talent at self-control?” Emberglow snorted. Lofty heard it and grinned at her, though it was an expression twisted with a hint of bitterness.

“I couldn’t possibly think of a better use of my day off then consuming way too much of my father’s alcohol, so I sat in the vault and helped myself. Stayed down there and drank until Stiff Starch found me. Family butler. He, uh, convinced me to leave the property before Grace or my parents could find me and cause a scene.”

“Is being a squire so hard?” Emberglow asked. “How is Lady Mercy?”

“Lady Mercy Song is just fine. Great, in fact. I see what you see in her, Emberglow. She’s going to be an amazing mentor. She’s patient and kind.” Lofty sighed. “She’s so smart, too. She knows something’s wrong with me, and she keeps asking.” He glanced up at Emberglow where she sat on the bed next to him, only to flinch away again when his gaze met her. “She asks about you a lot. I think she knows you’re what’s wrong with me.” Lofty seemed to realize how he’d worded his last sentence a little too late, looking back up at her in panic. “Not that you’re what’s wrong with me! I mean, it’s because of you that—“ Lofty stopped in a panic and took in a sharp breath, and Emberglow had to raise a hoof to hide the laugh that Lofty’s floundering dragged out of her.

“You want to try that again?” Emberglow said wryly, getting another twisted smile in return.

“Lady Mercy is too smart to not notice how I lock up and go quiet whenever she brings you up,” Lofty admitted. “I’m running out of excuses.”

“If you were completely honest with her, what would you say?” Emberglow asked. “If Lady Mercy Song asked you directly what was wrong, what would you tell her?”

“That my best friend broke my heart?” Lofty whispered, blinking at the tears welling in his eyes. “That I took a risk and got burned? Or maybe that I said some awful things to my best friend and it’s eating me up inside? One of those things, maybe.” He choked back a sob. “I’ve had a few weeks to think about our friendship, Emberglow. You knew how I felt long before I said anything, didn’t you?”

She closed her eyes, unable to look at him. “Yeah,” she whispered. The confession felt like vomit coming out of her throat.

“Tons of times I dropped hints, and you picked up on them and tossed them aside. It’s easy to see in hindsight how uncomfortable I was making you, Emberglow. I was a bad friend.”

“No, Lofty, you—“

“Don’t make excuses for me,” he interrupted with a slashing movement with one hoof. “I should have seen the signs that you weren’t interested long before I said anything. It’s just, at the time, I think I was lost in my own fantasies. I saw it all, Emberglow. I’d somehow convince you to enter a different order so we could be together. We’d date, become special someponies, fall deeply in love. I saw a wedding, a home together, foals…”

“Lofty, I’m gay,” Emberglow interjected without warning, surprising even herself at the confession. She hadn’t planned on it, it had just sort of jumped from her lips. Lofty’s expression was similar to the same one he’d worn when Adorjan the griffon had struck him on the head with a practice blade.

“...oh,” he stated simply. “That makes sense.”

“That’s it?” Emberglow cried. “That’s your only reaction? ‘That makes sense’?” She wasn’t quite sure why she felt angry, but she did. “I share with you my deepest, scariest secret, something I haven’t even shared with my parents, and that’s all you have to say?”

“You wanted me to say something else?” Lofty Tale asked, bemused.

“I don’t know!” Emberglow nearly shrieked. “I… I should have told you ages ago. You’re my best friend. I’m supposed to be able to trust you with this sort of thing! You’re not a bad friend, I am. Maybe if I’d told you earlier, you wouldn’t have… I mean, maybe you could have…” She threw up her hooves in frustration. “I don’t know. I should have told you.”

“I guess… I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me now?” Lofty said, sounding unsure. Emberglow looked up at him and their eyes met, really met, for the first time in the conversation. It hurt so bad how much she wanted to hope when she met his gaze. There was pain in his eyes, but also tenderness. Was it too much to hope for reconciliation, as well? “Do you want to talk about it at all?” Lofty asked. His voice was hesitant; Emberglow could tell what he wanted her to say. Good thing it was what she wanted to say, too.

“Not at all,” she replied, her voice husky and her eyes wet. “What now?”

“Now? I go home, I think. We… try to move past this. It’s my fault, Emberglow. I made assumptions. But I’m still—“ he cut off suddenly, changing what he was going to say. “I still feel the same way, Emberglow, even though I know you don’t. But even though part of me wants more, I want what we had back. It’s going to take time. Maybe a lot of time.”

“I know. Maybe we can write each other letters? Be friends from a distance, for a bit,” Emberglow suggested. Lofty nodded. “You have to talk to Lady Mercy, too. Knights Radiant don’t just heal the body, they’re trained to heal the heart, too. Maybe don’t tell her about the, uh, about what I sort of blurted out there.”

“Of course not. That’s your secret,” Lofty reassured her. “I’d never break your trust that way.”

Both ponies jumped when there was a sudden knock on the door. They both looked up, embarrassed, as Oak Chips nosed his way into the room, a tray perched on his back. It contained a pair of sandwiches on mismatched plates.

“Lunch time,” Oak Chips announced. He looked Lofty Tale up and down. “You’re looking better, boy. Feeling more yourself?”

“Yes, sir, sorry sir,” Lofty said quickly. He jumped off the bed to help the older pony with the lunch tray, which he set on the bed.

“Should be,” Oak Chips grunted with disapproval.

“Oak—“ Emberglow began, but Oak Chips held up a hoof, his gaze on Lofty.

“You should be sorry, pony. Showing up on the street drunk? Calling out this young lady’s name while you weaved down the street? What if there had been other ponies? You may not know this, little squire, but Emberglow is a bit of a darling on our street. Kind of like the niece some of us never had. She’s a local hero for us on Emerald Street. Do you realize what kind of damage you could have caused? What kind of trouble for Emberglow? For her parents?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think—“

“Obviously,” Oak Chips interrupted. “You didn’t think, you just got drunk. Little squire, you can’t be more than sixteen years old! What are you doing getting drunk at your age, and before lunch!”

“Um, can I—“ Emberglow tried to interject, but was cut off again.

“You acted the fool, little squire, and you’ll be lucky if there aren’t consequences for your friend here,” Oak Chips said. “I suppose you don’t care if something bad happens to you, but you never thought about potential consequences for Emberglow, did you?”

“N-no,” Lofty Tale stammered, looking pale.

“You didn’t think that after you sobered up and stumbled back to your huge manor, kept by your legion of servants, that maybe there might be side effects for Emberglow here.”

“I’m sorry,” Lofty said, cringing away from the older stallion. “You’re right, I didn’t think. You’re right about me, sir.”

“Don’t go calling me sir,” Oak Chips said sternly. “I’m just a pony, son.”

“But what is he supposed to call you? You were too busy yelling at him to let me officially introduce you,” Emberglow butted in quickly. Oak Chips glared at her, but she shrugged. “What? It’s true. Lofty, this is my friend Oak Chips. Oak, this is my dear friend Lofty Tale. He was the only real friend I had at the Seminary, and he stood up for me against near constant bullying. He’s a kind and loyal pony who made a mistake or two, and probably doesn’t deserve to be yelled at.” As she spoke, she had been slowly inserting herself between her two friends. “Now, thank you so much for lunch, Oak. Can we eat?”

It was a clumsy way to change the subject, but it worked. Lofty looked embarrassed at the compliment, and even the gruff old Oak Chips looked guilty about the way he’d laid into Lofty.

“Nothing stopping you,” Oak Chips grunted, motioning at the sandwiches. “I’ll leave you two alone again. Little squire, if what this silly mare says is true, thanks for taking care of her at school. That gives you a pass for your stupid choices today, but watch yourself in the future, hmm?”

“Of course,” Lofty said, his voice full of aristocratic politeness. “And thank you too, sir, for stopping me from bringing harm to my friend. I was not myself, and I’m afraid I made a poor first impression on you. I’m gratified to know my best friend has such zealous defenders.”

“Right. I’ll be leaving you two alone now, too much drama for old ponies.”

“But Oak Chips, I thought you said earlier young ponies and their drama are better than a good book?” Emberglow asked innocently.

“Bah! Silly mare!” Oak Chips grumped as he trotted out into his shop. The two squires giggled at the grumpy old pony, turning to their lunch. Oak Chips had prepared a pair of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the two of them, which they both ate gratefully. There were even two more cups of water. They lapsed into a concentrated silence as they ate.

“How is your squiring going?” Lofty asked. His voice was cautious and polite. There was genuine interest, but also a cautiousness that Emberglow wasn’t used to hearing from him.

“Poorly,” Emberglow admitted frankly. “I told my Knight off today and got banished from her office.”

“Nice one, Emberglow,” Lofty laughed. “You’ll have to try harder than that. You, yell at a Knight? It’ll never happen.” He paused, his eyes searching Emberglow’s face. “Oh Saints. You’re serious. You really yelled at your Knight.” Emberglow nodded, her face hot.

“Yes. I told her she was stupid,” Emberglow confessed. “And some other things. Broke my coffee mug on her floor.”

“You… um… why?” Lofty gaped. Emberglow sighed and told him an abbreviated version of the events that had led her here, as well as her time on the raincloud. When it was over he reached out a hoof and patted her on the shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. You’ll get in trouble, for sure, but I’ve never heard of a Squire being kicked out for something like this. There’s nothing to worry about; I’d just go see her tomorrow morning at your normal time and apologize.”

“That’s my plan,” Emberglow said. “I feel a little bad about what I said, but mostly I just feel bad about the way I said it. Lady Turquoise is being really frustrating, and she won’t even let me help her. Lady Mercy Song lets you help in her work, doesn’t she?”

“Oh yes. She’s been on duty at New Canterlot’s military hospital, helping with long term physical therapy patients. I don’t really have the training to be a nurse for her, but I’ve still been picking up a lot about medicine, first aid, and how the pony body works. I’ve been practicing my healing spells, too. I’ll never be as good as you or her, but I’m getting better.”

“You have no idea how jealous I am right now,” Emberglow muttered, and Lofty laughed guiltily.

“I thought you might be,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with one hoof. “How can I make it up to you?”

“By staying in touch. I need a friend right now, okay? Even if it just means writing letters,” Emberglow said. Lofty Tale nodded.

“I’ll do that. And, uh, Emberglow? I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for how you feel,” Emberglow said. “This is good. Better than I hoped, actually. I would have given almost anything to be friends with you again. Now it’s looking like I get my best friend back.”

“You’ll forgive me, then? For accusing you of leading me on?”

“Yes, I forgive you.” Emberglow said. Cautiously, she reached out her hooves to hug him, hesitating at the last second at his unsure look. She let her hooves drop, instead simply patting his own hoof. “As long as you write to me.”

“I promise.”

Oak Chips didn’t say a word to Lofty Tale as the two of them walked into the main shop floor, merely giving him a sharp glance as they walked out together.

“Thank you again, sir, for everything you’ve done,” Lofty said, glancing over the shop.

“You can make it home okay?” Oak Chips asked him. Lofty nodded.

“I might still be a little tipsy, but not as bad as earlier,” Lofty said. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll go straight home? No more weaving around Emerald Street screaming a mare’s name?”

“Yes sir. Straight home,” Lofty promised.

“Good.” Oak Chips grunted. He barely looked up from the Knight he was carving. Emberglow was pleased to see it was a pegasus. Lofty seemed interested in the chess set in progress; he glanced at Oak Chips for permission before picking up the Solar Diarch for the white set.

“These are incredible,” Lofty breathed softly. “You’re really good.”

“I should be,” Oak Chips said. “I’ve been working with wood for longer than you’ve been alive, little squire.” His voice was still grumpy, but Emberglow could sense the note of pride glowing through the gruff old stallion’s façade.

“Are these a commission?” Lofty asked. Oak Chips shook his head. “How much?”

“How much?” Oak Chips repeated. “They’re not even finished yet. Could be weeks. I’m not as quick as I used to be.”

“But still,” Lofty pled. “A hand carved wooden chess set? It’s gorgeous. I’d like to buy it if you’ll let me. I can pick it up when you’re done.”

“One hundred bits,” Oak Chips stated blandly. Emberglow nearly gasped. Oak never charged much more than the cost of materials, with barely enough markup to cover the rent on his shop. He claimed he had saved plenty of bits for his retirement while still working as a carpenter up in Stalliongrad. Compared to Oak’s usual prices, one hundred bits was a gouge. A total rip-off. Emberglow knew that if she’d asked to buy the chess set herself, she was sure the price wouldn’t have been more than thirty. Lofty Tale didn’t even blink.

“Done,” Lofty said, not even fazed by the number. Emberglow was about to protest when her friend spoke again. “That price does include a handmade case for the pieces though, right? Something as nice as the rest of the pieces?” Emberglow nearly grinned. Her friend wasn’t stupid.

“Of course,” Oak Chips groused. “Might take a few weeks.”

“Whenever is fine. I’ll drop by in a few weeks with the bits,” Lofty Tale said.

“It’ll be done,” Oak Chips said. Lofty nodded, and the two squires left Oak’s shop.

Outside, the rain was still falling at a gentle drizzle. Emberglow and Lofty faced each other in the rain. Neither seemed to want to be the first to speak. Finally Emberglow made the leap.

“Do you want to see my home?” Emberglow invited, motioning with one hoof to the store next door. Lofty shook his head.

“Not today, I think,” he said nervously. “But thanks for offering. I’ll… I’ll write. Good luck with your crazy Knight. I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks, Lofty. Be well.” The two friends parted, and Emberglow watched him go before turning and walking the few feet to her parents’ shop.

The door was closed and a sign hanging just at eye level read ‘Out to Lunch’. That was rare. Usually her parents ate lunch in shifts so the store could remain open. It wasn’t locked, which meant they were still inside, just not watching the shop. She opened the door and slipped inside.

“Mom? Dad? Are you guys upstairs?” she called out.

“Up here, sweetie,” her mother’s voice came from the spiral staircase. There was something off about her voice. She sounded nervous. Frightened, even. Emberglow hurried up the stairs into the living room.

“Mom, is everything okay? You sound…” She cut off as soon as she reached the top of the stairs and looked into the domestic scene in her family living room. Her parents were standing, looking quite nervously at the guest sitting on their loveseat. Needle Point was even shaking a little.

It was clear what was making them both so apprehensive about their current guest. It wasn’t every day, after all, that one served tea to a Knight.

“Emberglow. Glad you could finally make it,” Lady Turquoise said from Emberglow’s parents’ love seat. She looked angry, and she sounded annoyed, which was typical for her. The Knight was wearing her pink robes, only slightly damp from her trip through the rain to the tailor shop. “Thank you for the tea, Ms. Needle Point, Mr. Textile. It was lovely.” The Knight stood with an inscrutable look at Emberglow. “I’m going to be borrowing your daughter for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, my lady,” Needle Point bowed low. “We’re happy to serve you.” Lady Turquoise was already ignoring them, her intense gaze already on her young squire. Emberglow’s heart pounded with trepidation.

“Squire? Let’s go. We need to talk.”

Chapter 9

Journal Entry of Sir Jellybean Soup, Knight Mystic, dated 701 AF

March 21, 701.

The Spruce Spaniel is scheduled to make port in the Northern Empire tomorrow, or ‘Crystal Empire’, as I’m told the locals refer to it. I’ve been waiting for this for months. Years. It feels surreal; the effort of dozens of my fellow Knights, spread over nearly two hundred years, coalescing into this one moment. I have no idea what will happen once I arrive. I barely even planned on what would happen if I got this far; nopony from the Diarchy has managed this much since the shield went up. Nopony has even managed to get on a ship to the empire, let alone this far. When I get back, I’ll have to thank Harmonica and Dusty Daze for both their acting lessons and the idea of using a horn prosthesis to pretend to be a unicorn refugee fleeing the Diarchy. Nopony is even bothering to question that I’m not using telekinesis; a little trauma acting and everypony easily accepts that I’m just some sort of abused victim. Nopony has shown an ounce of suspicion.

I’ll write more tomorrow after we’ve made landfall.

(The next entry is not for several weeks)

April 19, 701.

I know I promised an entry after I landed in the Empire, but I have been in no mood to write. Not after the horrors I have seen. I scarcely know where to begin.

Needless to say my landfall didn’t go as planned. I was told that we would be landing in a port located a half-week’s journey from the Empire’s center, a port named Armor’s Bay, after some long-dead hero of the crystal ponies. All of the crystal ponies on board Spruce Spaniel spoke of the port as if it is some great marvel, and yet I found nothing truly remarkable about the port, besides the impressively large, flat barges that troll the harbor pushing some of the larger chunks of ice out of the way of incoming ships.

The harbor is protected by the pink shield, just like every other boundary of the Crystal Empire, but each ship’s captain is granted an amulet, enchanted by the Empire’s legendary ‘Princess’ herself, that allows each ship to pass through the barrier. I found the experience unsettling; not that there was any physical sensation, but spiritually unsettling. I felt like I was traveling into a land of the damned; I imagine it was similar to what Saint Twilight felt when she first stepped into the unholy unicorn city on the mountain. At the time, I dismissed the feeling as nerves.

When the ship made port and I disembarked, she was waiting for me. I have no idea how she knew. The crystal ponies bowed to the monstrous figure, a frighteningly tall hideous winged unicorn. Her fur was pink, very light, and her mane was the same pink at the roots, growing slowly darker until it reached a dark purple at the tips, with solid cyan streaks. She wore a simple coronet made of gold that clearly identified her as the 'princess' of this place. Their faces were confused but not fearful; these fool heathens didn’t even have the good sense to be terrified. She ignored them, waiting only for me. I tried to act, using the same words and actions that had so fooled the captain and his crew.

“Imposter,” she hissed, and her horn lit up with a baleful yellow light. With a flick of her magic, she knocked the false horn off my head. I am not ashamed to write that I cowered before her furious gaze. “I feel the taint of the usurpers’ enchantments on you, Knight.”

The gazes around me turned instantly hostile. The captain, once friendly and sympathetic, now apologized to this ‘princess’ for letting himself be deceived by me. I felt the magic of the creature lift me off the dock and push me back onto the ship.

“Captain, you will return this spy to Zebrica as soon as my guards can resupply your ship. I will provide you with the chains capable of securing him. And you,” those nightmarish eyes turned on me, and I shivered. “Tell your superiors that your kind are not welcome here. The next Knight that sneaks into MY kingdom will be returned in MULTIPLE PIECES. I cannot be deceived, and I will know. Am I clear?”

I admit I may have soiled myself at the way her voice made the timbers of the ship tremble.

1110 AF, New Canterlot City

“Where’s your closest cathedral?” Lady Turquoise demanded tersely as soon as she and Emberglow had left the shop.

“Um, ma’am? It’s, uh, on Garnet Street. Two blocks north, then take a left,” Emberglow answered, confused at the query.

“Let’s go. What I have to say needs to be said in front of the Saints,” the Knight replied, heading off at a quick trot that left Emberglow scrambling to catch up.

“Ma’am? Lady Turquoise?” Emberglow tried, but the Knight Jubilant said nothing. “My lady, I’m so s—“

“Shut it. Not another word. Not yet. I told you, we’re going to have our chat in front of the Saints.”

“But…”

“Shush, squire! Don’t you know how to obey?” Lady Turquoise snapped, but there was an unexpected hint of amusement mixed with the annoyance in her voice. Emberglow complied, staying silent as she tried to keep up with the Knight. Her mind was churning with questions, but she contained herself as they walked in silence to the cathedral.

It wasn’t a Wednesday, so there was nopony in the cathedral when they entered, besides one of the junior confessors who was tidying between the benches with a broom. When the young stallion saw the pink garb of Lady Turquoise, he dropped the broom, practically tripping over himself to offer whatever assistance she required. The Knight brusquely pushed off the obsequious confessor, asking only that they be left alone with the statues of the Saints. While the confessor hurried to obey, Lady Turquoise impatiently hustled Emberglow over to the statues. Emberglow noted with curiosity that Turquoise had led them before the statue of Saint Applejack.

“So,” Lady Turquoise began, taking a seat on one of the benches in front of the earth pony Saint, with her back to the statue. She pointed at a seat across from herself, and Emberglow hurried to sit, dreading whatever Lady Turquoise was going to say.

“So,” she said again, before pausing as she noticed Emberglow's expression. “You look terrified, young lady. You think I’m going to bite, or something?” She snorted, blowing out a puff of air through her nostrils.

“N-no,” Emberglow prattled nervously. “I’m sorry, my lady. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Stop. Those things you said. Calling me a stubborn mule, I believe?” Lady Turquoise eyed Emberglow critically. Emberglow cringed, her ears splaying back. Behind her mentor, Saint Applejack loomed imposingly, almost seeming to gaze judgingly at her. Emberglow felt tiny underneath the weight of that gaze.

“That’s exactly what I said, ma’am,” Emberglow whimpered, bile rising in her throat. She felt sick.

“You said I was aggravating? That I was driving both of us crazy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow whispered. She felt like she was about to cry. She didn’t think she’d be able to lie or to even try to walk back what she’d said, even though she wanted to; it just wasn’t in her to be less than honest. Perhaps she hadn’t been exactly diplomatic or politic with her words, but there was nothing incorrect or false in what she had said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Lady Turquoise asked, leaning forwards, her perked ears facing the young squire. “Because you didn’t mean it?”

What could Emberglow say to fix it all? The Knight Jubilant seemed to be offering her an out, an escape from what Emberglow had said. Was that the chance she was being given? Maybe Lady Turquoise wanted her to apologize and pretend it had never happened. She didn’t want to know what happened to insubordinate squires. But then…

“I meant it,” Emberglow squeaked, looking up at the statue above her. “I’m sorry because of how I said it, not what I said.” She stared at Lady Turquoise in horror. The words had just slipped out of her mouth. Maybe there was something about sitting in front of Saint Applejack that compelled honesty. Or maybe Emberglow was just incapable of deception.

“Uh huh,” Lady Turquoise said skeptically.

“I’m sorry,” Emberglow whimpered again.

“But you meant what you said.” Lady Turquoise confirmed. Emberglow nodded. Suddenly the façade of impatient anger slipped from the Knight, replaced by a weary sigh. “Of course you did. You’re painfully honest, aren’t you, Emberglow? The problem is, you were right, even if you said it wrong.”

Emberglow looked up in shock, caught off guard by the sudden change in her mentor's attitude. She opened her mouth to speak, but a sharp glance from the Knight compelled her to silence.

“As soon as I chased you from my office, I went to speak with Lady Diamond Dot of my order. Dot’s my boss. I thought…” she paused, and let out an annoyed huff. “To be perfectly honest, I went to beg my superior in the Jubilant to have you placed with a different Knight.” Lady Turquoise grimaced, her face twisted with an expression which seemed just a tiny bit ashamed.

“She… disabused me of some of my assumptions. See, I was sure you were a punishment of some sort. I thought I’d angered Lady Dot somehow, offended her in a way that made her want to punish me with a useless squire. I was, um, incorrect. Turns out she wasn’t mad at me, and she really believes in my pet project. Even so much so that she specifically made sure I got assigned a squire who would help see my dream become a reality. She was quite upset that I hadn’t been using you as a resource, just like you said.

“I need you to speak with me, Emberglow,” Lady Turquoise said, shifting from her storytelling for a moment to pin Emberglow with an intense gaze. “How you felt when you yelled at me today, you’ve felt that same way for weeks now?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been quite frustrated,” she replied. She still felt apprehensive, but Lady Turquoise’s confession had leeched some of the fear from her.

“I need you to promise me. Swear an oath, in front of Lady Applejack,” the Knight demanded, waving a hoof at the statue above them. “I want you to promise if I start to act like a mule again, you’ll say something.” She sighed. “I’m not used to having somebody working for me, and I didn’t know how to act. So I need your help to keep me straight.”

“So I’m promising what now?” Emberglow asked, confused.

“Promise that you’ll do exactly what you did today. Except maybe more diplomatically. Without the name calling and spilling coffee and broken mug all over my floor,” Lady Turquoise said. “Lady Dot made it clear to me that one of your jobs is to—“ the Knight sighed and rolled her eyes, “—deflate my ego from time to time.” She paused, going silent while she glanced over her shoulder. “Look, I’ve got a temper. This is something I’ve known for a while, and I’ve been under a bit of pressure lately. None of which is your fault. So can you promise me that you’ll call me out on my horseapples?”

“I—I can do that,” Emberglow stuttered. Honestly, she felt like her hooves had been swept out from underneath her. Just a few hours ago, she had been terrified that her squirehood might be in jeopardy. “I promise. I promise I’ll be more respectful about it than I was this morning, too.”

“Good,” Lady Turquoise said with a satisfied nod. “Now. I believe during your morning rant you said something about me using you like a tool?”

“Um, yes ma’am,” Emberglow said eagerly. “However I can help, I will.”

“You might regret saying that,” Lady Turquoise said with a snort, rising from her stool. Emberglow rose with her, and the two of them left the cathedral. “I’m going to take you up on that offer, and I’ll work you harder than you’ve ever worked before this.”

“I doubt that, ma’am. I graduated from med school before I entered the Ivy Seminary.” Emberglow smirked, some of the giddy relief she was feeling fuelling her confidence.

“By the Saints, was that sass?” Lady Turquoise said, laughing. “You have a sense of humor! I didn’t even know. We’re going to head back to my office and discuss how best to use your talents to advance my mad plans.”

“Your mad plans, ma’am?” Emberglow asked curiously. “I know they involve the Northern Empire, but not much more than that.”

“Not here. I’ll share the details back at the Annex.” With that, Lady Turquoise began trotting back towards the Annex, and Emberglow followed closely behind.

With the easing of the tensions between her and her Knight, Emberglow suddenly felt much more curious about the project she would be helping on. She supposed she'd find out more soon enough.

Together, they walked into the office, which now smelled faintly of stale coffee and carpet cleaner. Somepony, probably one of the civilian employees at the Annex, had cleaned up the broken crockery and spilled coffee in Lady Turquoise’s office. Nothing but the scent remained of the fit she'd thrown earlier. Still, Emberglow felt a shiver of apprehension as she stepped inside. It had only been earlier this morning, after all, that she’d had the gall to yell at a Knight in this very room.

Her younger self would have been horrified at even thinking of a Knight being imperfect. A younger Emberglow would have been drowning in guilt and disbelief. But here she had seen not only that a Knight could behave badly, but that she could recognize and repent of it as well.

That brought a second unpleasant epiphany, one that struck Emberglow like a hoof to the face. She wasn’t that many months away from becoming a Knight herself, which meant she wouldn’t be perfect, either. It was a chilling thought. It made sense that a few oaths and an arcane ritual wouldn’t immediately change her into a perfect pony, immaculately emulating the Saints and their will. It simply wasn’t something she’d considered before, and it unsettled her.

“So, I’m sure you’re curious,” Lady Turquoise began, snapping Emberglow out of her reflection.

“Definitely, ma’am,” Emberglow said.

Lady Turquoise smiled at that, before tapping her chin in thought. "Where to begin…" She absentmindedly pulled a cushion over, sitting down on it. "What do you know of the Northern Empire?"

“Not much,” Emberglow admitted. “Nopony knows much, actually. I know the Empire is to our north, and it’s protected by a barrier of strange, impenetrable magic.” Emberglow had read as much as she could about the shield; advanced magic always fascinated her, but very little was known about the Empire’s barrier. “They’re isolationists, and they hate the Diarchy. They don’t have any diplomatic contact with us, even though they’re ponies, too.”

“Yes, I suppose that much is common knowledge.” Lady Turquoise seemed to consider for a moment before speaking again. “There is another reason I’m looking into the Empire other than scholarly curiosity, though. Now, I can’t go into too much detail, but,” she said softly, leaning in towards Emberglow a little conspiratorially, “I’ve always believed there’s a connection between Saint Pinkamena and the Northern Empire. Specifically, I believe that is where the Element of Joy has been hidden.”

“Oh!” Emberglow exclaimed. The Elements of Harmony were legendary artifacts, said to be able to channel vast amounts of magical energy. The six Elements had since been lost, their locations forever obscured by history, though the romantics, the curious, the treasure seekers and the historians continued to chase legends about their locations to this day.

“Whether or not it’s really up there doesn’t actually matter, though,” Lady Turquoise said, sitting back while Emberglow watched her silently, confused. “Do you know much about any of the times the Diarchy has tried to infiltrate the Empire?”

“Infiltrate the Empire? I didn’t even know it was possible,” Emberglow said.

“It’s possible,” Lady Turquoise said. “The Northern Empire isn’t closed to all, just to us. Possibly even the griffons as well. Trade and diplomacy flows out from the Empire to other nations, just not ours. The barrier only stops the Diarchy and our forces from entering, not anypony, or any creature else. It was centuries ago that the Mystics first realized this and made their first attempt to sneak spies into the Empire.”

“Did it work?” Emberglow asked.

“I don’t think so,” Lady Turquoise said with a sigh of frustration. “It’s hard to know what happened back then, especially because the damned Mystics are so damned cagey about information. They believe they’re entitled to every bit of knowledge that flows through our heads, but they give none back. The few and rare records I have managed to get my hooves on suggest that the Mystics made three attempts.”

“So what’s your goal, then?” Emberglow asked, eager to get to the point.

“It’s just that, every attempt to connect with the Northern Empire has been through spies and infiltration. The Mystics have always spearheaded those efforts, and then failed. On top of that, they’ve shared almost nothing of the results. Clearly a new approach is needed, and I thought, if Saint Twilight saw fit to hide the Element of Joy in the Northern Empire, maybe it’s because Saint Pinkamena's Knights need to take the lead in reaching out to our wayward cousins, not the Mystics.” Lady Turquoise’s tirade faltered, and she looked a little embarrassed. “I get that the connection is tenuous. The Element’s probably not even up there. It just gave me the idea, got me thinking about the Northern Empire.

“I want to be the first Knight in the Northern Empire, Emberglow,” the Knight said, her voice filling with enthusiasm. “Not as a spy. Not sneaking in. But as a missionary. A diplomat. For nearly two years I’ve been trying to get my hooves on every piece of information I can about the Empire. I spent most of the first year trying to get permission from the Mystics to interview one of the zebra prisoners in their camps in Zebrica that may have interacted with some of the Northern ponies, but nopony in Lady Twilight’s order wants to be cooperative.” She let out an exasperated huff. “They don’t even want me to succeed just because it would be an embarrassment to them.

“So I’ve been doing what book research I can, spinning my gears while every single one of my requests to meet with creatures that have actually seen the Empire, creatures supposedly in Mystic custody, plod their way through the Mystic’s bureaucratic limbo.”

“You’ve been doing this for two years? You didn’t, um…” Emberglow trailed off.

“Think about giving up?” Lady Turquoise guessed, and shook her head firmly. “Not a chance. It’s… it’s kinda personal, but I think my cutie mark is pointing towards this.”

Emberglow nodded, but didn’t prod further. It wasn’t considered polite to ask about another’s cutie mark unless they offered, and Turquoise seemed to want to be private about hers.

“Okay. May I make a suggestion, ma’am?”

“Sure,” Lady Turquoise said.

“I have a talent for scholarship and research. It’s what got me through med school at a young age. I also have a connection with the Mystics. Why don’t you let me see your notes so I can see where you’re at, and then we can talk about working with our brother and sister Knights over at the Star Shine building? What note taking method do you use?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you look at them, but, uh, what do you mean by note taking method?” Lady Turquoise asked, her face screwed up with confusion.

“You know, the system you use to organize and access your information.” Emberglow was practically bubbling with enthusiasm; studying and note taking were things she was genuinely good at, and enjoyed quite a bit as well. She was sure she would be able to help her mentor at least a little in this aspect. “They taught Citrus Splash’s method at the Ivy Seminary, but they didn’t make us use it. What’s your system, so I can make sense of your notes?”

Emberglow had never seen Lady Turquoise blush with embarrassment before, but before she could say anything, the Knight leaned over and opened a drawer on her desk. With a grunt of effort, she lifted a large file folder out of the drawer. It was bulging with hundreds of papers shoved haphazardly into it, all of various colors and shapes. Emberglow opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Lady Turquoise went down for a second folder, and then a third, each one bearing no evidence whatsoever of any sort of system or organization.

“So, uh, your system is to shove them into file folders in your desk?” Emberglow asked, trying to ignore the rising panic she was starting to feel. She was supposed to help navigate this mess? To make sense of it? How!?

“Yes,” Lady Turquoise said guiltily, her ears back and her eyes shifting about. She glanced at the cabinet in the room, then glanced away again quickly.

“Ma’am, is there something else in there?” Emberglow asked, suddenly horrified of what those wooden cabinet doors might hold.

“Three more boxes of folders,” Lady Turquoise said, her head sinking. Emberglow forced out a panicked laugh. It was a desperate, delirious noise.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said with confidence she didn’t feel. “This is going to be much more of a challenge than trying not to go crazy while you assign me busywork.”

“Well, if you like, we can go back to how it was before,” Lady Turquoise snarked, and Emberglow laughed again, this time more sincerely.

“’No task, when undertaken with faith and prayers, is beyond the reach of the sanctified,’” Emberglow quoted, and Lady Turquoise smiled. “Even if it’s going to take a lot of prayers.” She stood up, walking over to the cabinet and opening the doors. There were indeed three boxes inside, each one perched precariously on the ones below it, with bulging file folders stacked haphazardly inside. Papers, typed, handwritten, and newsprint, were stuffed into each one. “Lots and lots of prayers. Oh, Saint Twilight, have mercy on your wayward and desperate children.”

“Hey! It’s not that bad!” Lady Turquoise protested, before smirking. “Also, when did you get so snippy?”

“I’m sorry!” Emberglow yelped, suddenly self-conscious. Maybe that had been too far. Before she could say more, though, Lady Turquoise was laughing.

“Relax, Emberglow. Please.” Lady Turquoise looked her straight in the eye. “I want a fresh start, and that means be yourself. You promised honest criticism, remember? So lay into me.”

“Um, okay. You clearly need a secretary. Lady Knight, I humbly ask permission to organize this disaster you have created for you,” Emberglow said. She didn’t know where this cheekiness was coming from, and she was a bit surprised and alarmed at the sense of anticipation, even excitement, as she considered the monumental task before her of organizing and cataloguing the notes of her mentor. She felt good, confident and useful in the face of the herculean task that sat before her. While her education had been medical in nature, she was an expert at note taking, organization tactics, and studying. She had been required to develop those skills in order to survive medical school. They’d given her quite the advantage at the Seminary, as well.

“You have my permission, humble squire,” Lady Turquoise said, her voice taking on a comically magnanimous affectation.

“And…” Emberglow began nervously, her tone losing the confident strength it had had earlier. Though their newfound understanding had greatly improved the relationship between the two mares, Emberglow knew things were still too uncertain for her to push the Knight too far, too fast. “If it’s okay with you, ma’am, I can teach you how to take your own notes and keep your own documents organized. It won’t do you much good if I take care of all of this for you and you can’t make use of it once I’m gone.”

“Good point.” Lady Turquoise nodded.

“We’ll need supplies. Fresh binders and dividers, paper, possibly a copy of Organized Notes, Organized Thoughts by Citrus Splash. I could go pick it up for you, it’s a fairly common book. I’m sure at least one of the booksellers in town has a copy.”

“Ah. That’s a lot… um, how important is the book?” Lady Turquoise asked nervously.

“Well, everypony needs to have their own style, but since you seem to have, uh, no method of organization and notetaking”— Emberglow looked sheepishly at Turquoise as she said that —“the best I can do is teach you mine. Maybe you’ll figure out something that works better for you, but I think it’ll be a good starting point.”

“Okay,” Lady Turquoise said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll go track down the book and the supplies. You start trying to make sense of my… um… notes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said cheerfully. It wasn’t that the task would be easy or pleasant, but it was a task that made sense, with a defined goal and clear obstacles. She loved it when things made sense.

“Is there anything else we’ll need?” the Knight asked her as she opened the first folder.

“Muffins,” Emberglow said absently, without looking up from the first page. It looked like a sailing ship’s passenger manifest. Somepony with sloppy hoofwriting had circled two entries on the manifest and written some hasty notes in the margin.

“Muffins?” Lady Turquoise asked, sounding amused.

Emberglow looked up from the paper. “Uh, sorry ma’am, but my mother, Needle Point, would always bake muffins when I had a particularly difficult study session coming up. It’s an essential component of any difficult scholarly venture.”

“Of course,” Lady Turquoise said with a smirk. “You okay with banana nut? It’s my favorite.”

“Oh, good choice, ma’am. That will be very helpful to both of us.”

“If you say so,” Lady Turquoise said. “You know, Lady Pinkamena was a baker by profession before she took up her destiny as a Saint. I’m sure she would approve.”

“Let’s hope.” Emberglow grinned. “You’ll probably need her help too, in addition to Saint Twilight’s.”

“That’s enough sass out of you, young squire,” Lady Turquoise scolded, but the rebuke had no bite to it. “I’m going to go locate some quality muffins, then, and the supplies. It may take me a while, so you can start, uh, organizing.”

“I’m going to temporarily clear your stuff off your desk, if that’s okay,” Emberglow said. “I’ll need the space. I’ll put it back when I’m done.”

“You do whatever you need to do, squire. If I’m not back by sundown, send a search party.” Lady Turquoise smirked. “I may have been eaten by wild books.”

Emberglow felt so much lighter, even bouncy, as the Knight left. It felt a little odd for Lady Turquoise’s treatment of her to change so rapidly — then again, the Book sometimes spoke of Saint Pinkamena as having a bit of a mercurial mood. She supposed it was perfectly in character for one of her Knights to go from antagonistic to cheerfully teasing in a few hours.

Between the change of pace in her relationship with her Knight, and the monstrous but attainable task in front of her, she felt like she could sing. She carefully moved all of the knickknacks, picture frames, and other personal effects off of Lady Turquoise’s desk and pulled up the first haphazard box onto the now empty surface. She didn’t have the supplies she would need to begin transcribing the notes, but at least she could start organizing things. She began separating the documents into categories, giving each paper, notebook, or newspaper cutting a quick summary glance before placing it in one of several growing piles on the desk.

As time passed, she began to grow more and more interested, taking longer and longer with each document. Every page was a snippet of information about the Empire; a personal account of contact with a crystal pony, a report of a naval encounter with Empire ships, even transcripts of interrogations with captured Zebra soldiers who’d mentioned the Empire’s citizens. Each document was a clue, a hidden treasure that added one more drop of information about their mysterious neighbors. While Lady Turquoise may be desperately disorganized, she was smart. She’d clearly gone to a lot of effort to gather as much relevant information on the Northern Empire as possible.

The time melted away. Emberglow realized she had no idea when she’d started familiarizing herself with the materials in question, but she was sure it had been hours. Lady Turquoise did have a small desk clock, but it was with the rest of the Knight’s personal effects in a neat pile on the floor. Emberglow leaned over to glance at the piece, a ceramic timepiece which was molded in the shape of a toaster, of all things. She was sure there was a story behind that. The clock read three o’clock, but Emberglow had no real idea when she’d started, so she didn’t know how long she’d been reading. At least two hours, perhaps. It had felt like no time at all, as it usually did when she was reading or studying.

She glanced back to the fascinating set of notes Lady Turquoise had taken on a skirmish fought between a convoy of Diarchy supply ships headed towards a fort in the Zebrican continent and a Northern Empire warship. Unfortunately, Lady Turquoise had not included a primer on naval terms, something the Knight was clearly familiar with herself. It would have been helpful, but Emberglow still found the multiple witness accounts of the violent encounter fascinating. She didn’t know much about naval combat, and the unfamiliar terms were like puzzles Emberglow had to figure out with context clues. She tried to imagine what the battle would sound like, with roaring cannons competing with the splash of the waves and the war-cries of sailors as they swung on ropes between the ships. She was sure she was overromanticizing it in her head, but that didn’t stop her imagination. It easily took up another half hour, before the door swung open wide.

“J’arrive!” Lady Turquoise cried out musically, somewhat muffled by the handles of a bag clenched between her teeth. The Knight was laden with a pair of bulging saddlebags and a bag that exuded the irresistible scent of fresh muffins. She deposited the muffins on the desk and shrugged the saddle bags off onto the floor.

“Was that Prench?” Emberglow asked. “I didn’t know you spoke a dead language.”

“Just a few words here and there,” Lady Turquoise said, waving a hoof. “It’s one of the perils of scholarship, to occasionally be exposed to odd unrelated tidbits of information.”

“C’est vrai,” Emberglow said slowly, completely unsure of the pronunciation. The two mares laughed, and Lady Turquoise motioned towards the bag.

“Snack break, then the squire can become the teacher. I found the book you asked for.”

“Great! Reading is tiring work.” She reached into the bag and pulled out one of the muffins. “Still warm?” she asked with pleasant surprise.

“Yeah, I put in my order before I went shopping for the other supplies then picked them up on the way back. How do they taste?” Lady Turquoise asked. For some reason, she had a sly smile on her face. Emberglow was beginning to get just a little nervous.

She gingerly took a small nibble of the banana nut muffin, chomping through the chopped walnuts that garnished the top. It was amazing, and oddly familiar. There were bits of real banana baked into the muffin, which combined with the chopped walnuts to create a mélange of textures. The muffin recipe relied on the natural sugars within the banana more than adding too much itself, making a muffin that actually tasted like a muffin, not a cupcake. Emberglow’s tiny nibble turned into a much larger bite as soon as she recognized exactly where the muffins had been made, and she glanced at the knowing smirk on Lady Turquoise’s face.

“How’d you convince my mom to make us muffins?” Emberglow said once she’d swallowed her bite.

“Wasn’t hard,” Lady Turquoise grinned. “I told her I was about to have you teach me how to properly take notes, and could she please supply us with some appropriate study fuel? She refused to let me compensate her for the favor, too. So I’ll be sending you home with a few bits. She can’t say no to you. You said she was the one who taught you about muffins and studying, after all, so I figured I should go to the original source.”

“Good plan. I love my mom’s muffins. Thank you, Lady Turquoise.”

Lady Turquoise’s face bloomed into a small smile, and Emberglow thought she saw a hint of a blush. “Well, I didn’t do it for you, I did it for me. I needed to be sure I got the one hundred percent correct studying muffins. Pure selfishness.” She stuffed nearly half of a muffin into her mouth, closing her eyes in a blissful expression. “‘ere, ‘emme geh ah book,” Turquoise said with her mouth full. She reached into the stuffed saddlebags and pulled out the text Emberglow had asked for, Organized Notes, Organized Thoughts, by Citrus Splash. Emberglow’s eyes widened at the unfamiliar cover art and the shiny ‘Third Edition’ emblazoned on the cover.

“Third Edition! I never even got to read the second! My copy’s a secondhand book I got used. I wonder if they actually fixed the table typos in chapter four! It was really frustrating that they’d labeled all of the tables in chapter four with threes instead of fours! I know it’s a minor issue, but… uh…” Emberglow trailed off awkwardly when she noticed that Lady Turquoise was laughing.

“You’re one of those, then? A total nerd?” the Knight asked, grinning teasingly.

“I prefer ‘detail-oriented scholar’,” Emberglow said with a sniff. “But yes, that’s what my friend says.”

“I’m in good hooves, then. Where should we begin, Instructor Emberglow?”

There was a bit of uncomfortable awkwardness at first; a single day of reconciliation would not remove Lady Turquoise’s temper, but both ponies were patient. That first night, Emberglow went home for the first time in weeks with a smile on her face and a bounce in her steps. She was in such a good mood that her parents even commented on the difference, and her mother didn’t argue too hard when Emberglow pressed the bits for the muffins into her hooves. On the second day, Emberglow could tell Lady Turquoise felt a bit out of her depth, but she knew it was the will of the Saints that they’d been placed together. Lady Turquoise, too, seemed to realize that fact, and she was clearly trying her best.

One of the best changes was that Emberglow got her own writing desk. It wasn’t huge; the room already had one desk in it, after all, so there was only room for a small one, but it was her desk. On the day Lady Turquoise had some workponies move the desk into her office, she also presented Emberglow with her own picture frame, suggesting that Emberglow could decorate her desk however she liked.

Once the lessons were done, Emberglow became Lady Turquoise’s secretary practically full time. She took notes for the Knight, studied with her, set up appointments, and even filled out paperwork requests. Lady Turquoise wasn’t one to give up easily, and had chosen to take a squeaky wheel approach to asking the Knights Mystic for information. She boasted to Emberglow that she’d sent at least one request a week for two years. Now it was Emberglow’s job to fill out the forms that would inevitably be denied. It was an exercise in patience and persistence.

The process of transcribing all of Lady Turquoise’s notes into a logical, rational, readable fashion took the better part of two weeks, and by the end of the process, the Knight was irritable and frustrated. Emberglow was happy, however. This was her element.

One day, while Emberglow and Lady Turquoise were working in her office, a courier came by with news of the most recent rejection by the Knights Mystic. Emberglow was already tensed for an explosion; the morning had been full of minor setbacks like overcast skies, stale donuts, and watery coffee.

“What?!” Turquoise snapped crankilly as the courier entered the office. Emberglow raised an eyebrow at her, and she took a deep breath and motioned the nervous courier forward with one hoof. He nervously placed a missive on her desk, which she read with a hopeless sort of look, before sighing loudly, crumpling the note, and tossing it idly in the trash.

“Will you need to send a return message?” the courier ventured. Lady Turquoise’s eyes snapped to him, and she snarled.

“No. Shoo!”

“Lady Turquoise?” Emberglow cut in cautiously. Lady Turquoise’s angry eyes snapped to her squire, then softened. It was the same scene that had repeated itself a dozen times over the last few weeks. One of her most important duties as Lady Turquoise’s squire, she’d discovered, was serving to act as a buffer between the Knight and everypony else on her bad days.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she told the courier, who looked terrified. “It’s not your fault they’re being stubborn over at the Star Shine building. Thanks for bringing the message, and I don’t need to send a return just yet.” He nodded, then backed out of the office after shooting Emberglow a grateful glance.

Emberglow felt a guilty sort of relief every time Lady Turquoise’s anger exploded at anypony besides her. She didn’t like that others had to suffer the wrath of her Knight, but it was comforting to think that she was now an ally with Lady Turquoise against every force arrayed to stymie her goals.

“What if we arrange a meeting between you and a high ranking Mystic?” Emberglow asked after the courier was gone.

“You mean your sponsor, Steadfast?” Lady Turquoise asked, perking up slightly from her tired slump. “I didn’t want to ask you to put yourself out like that. This is my fight with the Mystics, Emberglow. I didn’t want to put you in their crosshairs.”

“It’s why I’m here,” Emberglow said. “Your senior, Lady Dot said so right? I’m a resource. I could send him a note right now, or I could go over in person.”

“A note should be fine,” Lady Turquoise said cautiously. “Where would we…” she began, but Emberglow waved a hoof.

“I’ll figure out the details. It’s my job, remember? You just work out what you’re going to say to him.”

Now with her Knights’ permission, Emberglow wrote up a personal note for Sir Steadfast, asking to meet with him to discuss her Knight’s ambitions for the Northern Empire. She trotted downstairs to find a courier to take the note over to the Star Shine building, then went back upstairs, complete with a bag of cookies acquired from the downstairs cafe.

Emberglow went back upstairs (using the elevator; she’d never quite been brave enough to ask why Lady Turquoise avoided them) and delivered her prize to a grateful Knight. They relaxed and munched on cookies while they waited for a response.

Finally, there was a knock on the door, and the very same nervous looking courier held out a note to Emberglow, pointedly trying not to look at Lady Turquoise. The note was simple: ‘You free for lunch? 12:30 at Let Us Wraps. Bring your Knight’. It was signed ‘Steadfast Word’.’ Emberglow showed it to Lady Turquoise, who read it with cautious optimism.

The restaurant was a trendy lunch spot, conveniently located near several of the Orders’ headquarters buildings. As Emberglow and Lady Turquoise approached, she could see a rainbow of colors; the outdoor tables were filled with Knights wearing the robes of their Orders. She couldn’t help but notice that while there were Knights from each of the Orders, for the most part each table was segregated by color.

They didn’t see Sir Steadfast at one of the outdoor tables, so they entered via the front door. The insides were nearly as busy as the outsides, but the noise was more a subdued hum than the cheerfully babbling cacophony of the outdoor tables. It was a bright and cheerful sort of restaurant, with colorful floral print wallpaper and bright yellow curtains. A sparklingly pleasant waitress with a two-tone pink and white mane bounced over to offer them a table before they saw Steadfast, one light blue hoof waving to catch their attention.

“Welcome to Let Us Wraps. Let us find you a table?” the waitress asked, looking a bit embarrassed at the pun she probably repeated dozens of times each day.

“Thanks, but we’re with somepony already,” Lady Turquoise said, motioning towards Sir Steadfast.

“Okay!” the waitress said brightly. “Have a seat, and I’ll be by right away with your menus.”

Sir Steadfast stood politely as the mares approached. He gave Emberglow a quick hug in greeting, then reached out a hoof towards Lady Turquoise.

“Lady Turquoise. It is a pleasure. I am Steadfast Word,” he said, and the two shook hooves. “Have a seat, you two.” The waitress brought their menus, and Emberglow glanced over the restaurant offerings. As one would expect, most of the menu was lettuce wraps, with soups and sandwiches as well. Emberglow ordered a grilled cheese and tomato soup. The Knights ordered their own food, and the waitress flitted away to put in their orders.

“So, the note you sent in reply certainly came in a timely fashion. Perhaps you’ve been expecting Emberglow to ask for a meeting?” Lady Turquoise began evenly. Only her twitching ears betrayed her nervousness.

“I thought it might be possible,” Sir Steadfast replied vaguely. Emberglow watched him closely. “I’ve read over several of your proposals. You have interesting ideas, Lady Turquoise.” Emberglow wanted to ask why he seemed to be acting so coy, but she stopped herself. She was a squire in the presence of Knights. If they wanted her input, they would ask for it.

“How long have you been following my requests to your order?” Lady Turquoise asked, her eyes narrowed with concentration.

“For a while now, to be honest. I’ve always thought it a great shame that we weren’t closer with our Northern cousins. You seemed to be the only pony who cared enough to try to do something about it. It’s a shame that pride becomes so much of a roadblock to positive change like this.”

Lady Turquoise nodded. Emberglow just stared at the two, her face twisted with confusion. Lady Turquoise, though, wore a thoughtful expression, and seemed perhaps a bit excited. The waitress brought their food, setting down a steaming bowl of red soup in front of Emberglow that smelled deliciously herbal. The cheese was perfectly melty, too, and she immediately dug into her lunch.

“So,” Lady Turquoise began, her voice casual. “What’s it like being a sponsor? I’ve never done it before.” It was a rather abrupt subject change, and Emberglow’s gaze flickered back and forth between the two Knights, now well and truly lost. Lady Turquoise sometimes seemed temperamental and flighty, but this sudden shift in conversation felt odd even for her standards.

“It’s been a rather interesting experience. Some Knights seek out good candidates from among the common folk for sponsorship. Mine sought me out.” He winked at Emberglow. She smiled back, but stayed silent, not quite trusting herself to speak. This conversation had taken an odd turn, and she couldn’t quite follow it. “I’ve never seen myself as much of a teacher, but I’d like to think the small amount of contact and influence I’ve had have been positive.”

“The chats we had throughout my time in the Seminary were a lifesaver, sir. I don’t know if I could have survived otherwise,” Emberglow interjected. Steadfast grinned at her.

“Thank you, young lady. I’m just glad I could have helped, in whatever small way,” he said. “Though, to be honest, as a sponsor I don’t have too much influence, as evidenced by the fact that I have so far been unable to lure Miss Emberglow away from her plans to join the Radiant. I’ve told her several times we could use a mind like hers in my order. The only real tangible influence I’ve had is when they consulted me on who she would squire for.”

Lady Turquoise twitched, and a slow, careful smile spread across her muzzle. She looked at Sir Steadfast, her eyes quizzical, but her expression hopeful. The older Knight merely answered with a grin.

“That sounds interesting. You had influence in the Order Emberglow was assigned to?” Lady Turquoise asked.

“Not just the Order, but the Knight herself,” Sir Steadfast said, his eyebrows raised significantly. “I wanted to make sure my sponsored pony got placed with a Knight with fresh, bold ideas.”

“Too bad nopony else thinks the way you do,” Lady Turquoise said. Sir Steadfast nodded.

“You know how ponies can get when pride is involved. There have been so many failures to reach out to the Northern Empire. It’s understandable that a group that’s failed so many times would be reluctant to see another succeed in their place. It would be a tremendous blow.”

“I can certainly understand that,” Lady Turquoise replied. “But isn’t positive progress worth stepping on a few hooves? Surely the end result is worth a little bruised pride.”

Emberglow merely sat and listened to the conversation while she ate her lunch. Both ponies sounded completely casual, though she was pretty sure there was some subtext she was just on the edge of understanding. It was like she was almost listening to the same conversation they were having, but not quite. Was Sir Steadfast suggesting that he’d read Lady Turquoise’s proposals and had deliberately placed Emberglow with her in an attempt to reach out and help? But why not just openly offer assistance? She didn’t get it.

“If only all ponies could have that view,” Sir Steadfast mused. “It would certainly make things simpler.”

“Hypothetically, what sort of balm would it take to massage wounded egos?” Lady Turquoise asked. “I mean, in a situation like ours.”

“An olive branch, of sorts,” Sir Steadfast said. He hadn’t even taken time to consider his response, and his eyes were alight with excitement. “You’d like to send a mission, rather than spies, to the Northern Empire. I think that there’s a chance this could work. The problem is, how does any of this advance the agendas of individual Knights Mystic?”

“What do you suggest?” Lady Turquoise asked.

“First, include a Knight Mystic in your planning and proposals, as much as possible. Unfortunately, we’ve been ordered to leave the Northern Empire alone as a lost cause and a waste of resources. So many of us would be unable to help you publicly.”

“But helping along the studies of a squire you personally sponsored into the Seminary…” Lady Turquoise mused, trailing off significantly. Sir Steadfast beamed.

“Exactly. Doing so would allow interested parties to offer support while saving face with our superiors, who seem to think the entire issue is an embarrassing non-starter. I’m so glad you understand.”

“Okay. Next?” Lady Turquoise asked.

“Second, you’re going to have to find a way to include Mystics at every step of your journey. I assume your plan includes arranging meetings and talks with agents of the Northern Empire’s government at neutral locations, probably within the FZR or even one of the griffon border towns.”

“I don’t really like the tone that sets for talks,” Lady Turquoise said. “I’m asking them to trust me, and then I bring spies? It seems disingenuous.”

“You don’t think the Northern ponies will bring agents? Spies?” Sir Steadfast said. “I can assure you they will. In fact, it may be safe to assume they already have agents within the Diarchy.”

“They do?” Lady Turquoise asked. “You know that, for sure?”

“I said it may be safe to assume so, Lady Turquoise,” Sir Steadfast said cautiously. “If I knew something like that for certain, it would be classified, wouldn’t it?” Lady Turquoise nodded slowly, taking another bite of her wrap while she paused to think.

“I wouldn’t be too bothered by the idea of Mystic agents within whatever entourage goes to communicate with the Empire. As long as I had some sort of assurance that they would be acting under the direction of whatever Jubilant was in charge, and not operating on their own.”

“I’m sure some sort of assurance could be made,” Sir Steadfast nodded slowly. “Thirdly, I think it would go a long way if the Jubilant could offer some sort of honey to sweeten the deal.”

“And do you have something already in mind?” Lady Turquoise mused, and Sir Steadfast nodded.

“I have a few ideas.”

Emberglow wasn’t sure, but it felt like a breakthrough had happened in the conversation. The discussion became more casual after that, without the sense of subtext that had been making her nervous. The two Knights spoke of different projects the two orders were working on, and even engaged in some bantering political discussions that mostly flew over Emberglow’s head. She’d never bothered much with local politics, and from what she’d heard of the relationships between the five orders, it was more of the same. Petty rivalries, pride and arrogance, scandal and sensationalism. She imagined she’d have to start paying attention sooner rather than later, but it just all felt so petty to her.

When they were done eating, Sir Steadfast paid for their lunch over Lady Turquoise’s objections. The two mares parted ways with the older stallion, with Lady Turquoise wearing a cautiously optimistic smile on her face as she shook his hoof goodbye.

“I’m not entirely sure exactly what happened there,” Emberglow finally admitted after the two had walked in silence for a few moments. Her Knight smiled patiently.

“Well, sounds like a great teaching moment, squire,” Lady Turquoise said smugly as the two wove through a growing crowd on their way back to the Jubilant Annex. Emberglow wondered what was happening; ponies were milling about as if waiting for something to happen. “What do you think happened? Do your best.”

“Um, politics?” Emberglow ventured vaguely. Lady Turquoise laughed. Emberglow had done well in social sciences class when the tests were from facts and theories in books, written down in paper and not in real life conversations with real life ponies. She was a tailor’s daughter, and she knew she would always struggle with some of the things that her noble-born fellow students took for granted.

“Try a little deeper than that, squire,” Lady Turquoise instructed.

“Well, it seemed like Sir Steadfast wanted to help you, but couldn’t really. So he waited for me to introduce the two of you?”

“Possibly. Most likely he engineered you being my squire to begin with. At least in part to reach out to me and offer support.”

“Why?” Emberglow asked. “Why use subterfuge? If he was familiar with your proposals, why not just reach out and offer help?” The crowd was growing thicker, and there were sounds of commotion from over near the entrance to the justice building.

“I don’t know for sure, this is only speculation. My guess is that he wanted to, and got shot down by somepony with more clout in his own Order.”

“But why, though? Wouldn’t everypony benefit if the word of the Saints spread to the Empire?” Emberglow asked. Lady Turquoise laughed, and Emberglow blushed. “Look, I know just how naïve that sounds. Really. But maybe I had hoped Knights would be beyond that.”

“You know as well as I do, Emberglow. Not even Knights are perfect. Ponies have ambition, jealousy, and greed. And yes, those things are sinful. But it’s quite easy for a pony to convince themselves that their own petty desires are the will of the Saints.”

“’Twist not these words to your own profit,’” Emberglow quoted. “’Therein lies the path of self-deception and damnation.’”

“From Saint Twilight’s own pen, even,” Lady Turquoise agreed. “But while the Book of the Saints is the bedrock of all truth, that doesn’t mean we all agree with each other’s interpretations.”

“I always thought the Confessors were in charge of the interpretation of the Book,” Emberglow said.

“It’s always been a bit unclear what the Saints ultimately intended. We Jubilant have always taken that responsibility, and have clashed with both the Mystics and civilian confessors in the past. We know the Knights were designed to be equals, so no one group is supposed to be stronger than the others. It leads to bickering and dissention at times as each Order wants to enforce their particular interpretation of the Book. Each group sees their own version of the greater good, and is frustrated when the others don’t see what they see and fall in line.” Lady Turquoise let out another laugh. “Not that you’ll need to look too hard into the politics between the Orders. The Radiants have always traditionally stayed out of the infighting.”

The crowd was much thicker, and the sounds of angry shouting floated from a concentration of ponies in front of them. Lady Turquoise said nothing, but with a grim look stepped in front of Emberglow and held her back with a hoof. It was an oddly protective move, and it made Emberglow feel weirdly good that her Knight’s first instinct would be to step in front of potential danger.

“What’s going on?” she asked the Knight, who shook her head.

“Protests. See the signs? There’s some ponies picketing in front of the Justice building. Looks like things are getting tense.”

The situation did seem like it was becoming violent. There was a line of armored Knights Vigilant, each one carrying a heavy truncheon. In front of them was a gaggle of angry ponies, many carrying signs that read ‘Free Red Pen’, or some other variant of the sentence. There were other signs demanding free speech. There were even a few with insulting caricatures of the Knights Vigilant.

“Oh. It’s that,” Lady Turquoise said dismissively.

“What’s going on?” Emberglow asked. Lady Turquoise shook her head and began leading them backwards, away from the crowd.

“Actors and poets. There was an arrest made recently. A playwright named Red Pen. He was arrested for heresy. His trial was a few days ago, and the sentencing was going to be today. I don’t pay much attention to what kinds of plays and music the common ponies are consuming.” Belatedly she realized who she was speaking with. “Sorry, Emberglow.”

“No, it’s fine,” Emberglow said. “Why was the playwright arrested?”

“He wrote a heretical play. When his local confessor told him to change some things, he refused and went forward with getting the play produced anyways. When somepony from my order went to see the play, she alerted the Mystics and the Vigilants. The playwright, director, producer, and many of the actors were taken in for questioning. But I only know bits and pieces of the story, from gossip around the Annex.”

There was shouting from the protesters now. Some of the ponies were surging against the line of Vigilants. Partially in anger, and partially because of the press of protesters behind them. The orange armored Knights were shoving back.

“We should get back,” Lady Turquoise said carefully. They weren’t close to the epicenter of the protest, but it would still be safer the further away they were. Still, as she looked at the protestors pressing in on the tiny group of Knights, she felt an urge to do something.

“Do you think they’ll need help? The Knights are outnumbered,” Emberglow said. Lady Turquoise smirked.

“Good to know what kind of Knight you’re going to be,” she said. “They’re probably fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to offer. Carefully fly over and get in touch with whoever is in charge. I’ll try to find a way around the crowd.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said quickly, spreading her wings and taking to the air. None of the protesters were airborne, and Emberglow could see only one Knight Vigilant in the skies. The orange armored pegasus flew over to Emberglow with challenge in his eyes, before noticing her squire robes.

“Sorry to bother you,” Emberglow began as the pegasus stallion slowed to a hover in front of her. “My Knight and I were passing by. Is there any way we can help?”

“That’s your Knight down there?” the stallion said, motioning with one hoof at the pink robed figure of Lady Turquoise, still making her way away from the crowd.

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said.

“Not much you can do, then. We’ve sent for some of the Radiant to help. Things are getting nasty, we’re expecting violence as soon as the arrests start.”

“Um, I-I’m not a Radiant, but I’m aspiring to be one. I’m medically trained as well. I would love to help however I can.”

“A Radiant in training? Maybe. Get with Lady Yellowtail on the ground.” The pegasus stallion pointed at a blonde Lady Knight, wearing the orange armor of her Order, who was coordinating the Vigilants and shouting orders.

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow repeated. She flew down to land next to the lady Knight in question. The Vigilant eyed her approach suspiciously.

“Squire, state your name and purpose,” the Knight barked. Emberglow wasn’t bothered by the gruff order, but she was a little intimidated by the mare’s demeanor.

“Emberglow, ma’am. Squiring for Lady Turquoise of the Jubilant. We saw the commotion and wanted to offer assistance. I’m aspiring to the Radiant, and I’ve received medical training. Your pegasus said things might get violent soon. I can do first aid and I’m practiced in healing spells, if I have a rune quill or gauntlet.”

“Don’t have any spares. But as soon as we start making arrests, things are gonna get nasty. Can you follow orders?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow nodded.

“Where is your Knight?”

“Trying to find a safe way around the crowd, ma’am. She’s an earth pony.”

“Good. Stay back, at least five paces behind me, but close. I’ll call your name if we need your skills. When your Knight gets here have her stay back with you. By Saint Applejack’s grace we won’t need either of your help, but I’m not betting on it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow repeated, assuming a position on the cobbled street as ordered by Lady Yellowtail. The orange armored Knight proceeded to ignore her as she continued to issue orders to her outnumbered Knights as they tried to wall off the Justice building from the increasingly rambunctious protestors. The protesters began to push their way towards the building, and the Knights pushed back, becoming increasingly stern in their measures to make sure the civilian ponies didn’t make it past them towards the Justice building, where Emberglow assumed their playwright hero was being sentenced. Emberglow was focused on the ponies themselves, so she didn’t see when the first rock came sailing out of the crowd to smash into the street just a few feet to the left of Lady Yellowtail.

“Who threw that!?” the Knight Vigilant shouted angrily. She raised her gauntlet and cast a spell, enhancing her voice to spread menacingly over the crowd. “Citizens, this protest is illegal. Lay down on the ground and place your forehooves over your head and you will not be harmed. Anypony still standing will be considered violent and be treated appropriately. You have…”

A second rock sailed out of the protesters, then a third. This one came down, shattering right against Lady Yellowtail’s helmet, just on the forehead. It wasn’t a regular stone, Emberglow realized, but a cobblestone pried up from the street. The Knight cried out in pain as broken splinters of stone rained into her eyes and muzzle. Instinctively she sat back on her rump and raised her hooves to rub at her injured eyes.

“No! Lady, no, don’t rub them! Let me look!” Emberglow called out. “Be still!” She felt a jolt down her spine. She was a squire! And she’d just shouted an order at a Knight! She shoved her panic down as she dashed to the Knight’s side, who was gritting her teeth in pain with her eyes clenched shut. Emberglow reached the Knight, desperately looking around at the situation. Knights Vigilant were wading into the crowd of protesters, laying about with truncheons. Protesters were fighting back, using their signs to batter at the armored figures that were advancing on them to little effect. Ponies were already down on the ground, clutching bleeding heads or oddly-angled limbs. Some few had laid down as instructed, now being bludgeoned by the hooves of the combatants trampling about above them. She glanced around and matched eyes with the pegasus who she’d first spoken with. She waved him down.

“Your commander is injured,” she told him quickly. “I need water, and inform whoever Lady Yellowtail’s second-in-command is that she won’t be able to carry out her duties.”

“That would be me, squire,” the pegasus said, raising his voice to carry over the tumult. “I have nopony to send. Everything is-“ his gaze drifted back to the chaos that was unfolding in front of them. “Excuse me. You’ll have to make do until the Radiants we sent for get here.”

“Emberglow? What do you need?” came Turquoise’s voice as the pink robed mare galloped up.

“Water. Hurry!” Emberglow shouted, and her Knight, though looking shocked, turned and galloped towards the justice building. She turned to the wounded Vigilant. “Lay down, Lady Yellowtail. I’m going to remove your helmet. Keep your hooves out of your eyes and face, okay? Stay calm.”

“I’ll t-try, squire,” the mare said through gritted teeth. Blood seeped down cuts in her face, and shards of stone jutted out in places. “How fare my K-knights?”

“Not your concern now, Lady. Your second in command is handling things. Trust him, and stay calm,” Emberglow said. She glanced at the incipient riot, hoping that she was telling the mare the truth. She wasn’t nearly experienced enough to know how well or badly things were going, but there were dozens of wounded, nearly all protesters. She did her best to tune out all that extraneous noise. She had a patient already, and if those ponies hadn’t wanted to be injured, then perhaps they shouldn’t have questioned the will of the Saints’ representatives. The thought was surprisingly bitter, and she felt guilt flow into her for thinking it.

Lady Turquoise rushed up with a canteen of water, and Emberglow took it with a quick thanks, before sending her mentor back into the Justice Building for more. Gently Emberglow pushed the wounded Vigilant onto her side and began flushing out Lady Yellowtail’s eyes. The mare showed the resolve of a veteran Knight; despite a few whimpers and cringes of pain, she remained as still as possible while Emberglow muttered comforting and encouraging nonsense. As she poured water over the wounds, she did her best to remove the larger pieces of shrapnel from around her muzzle.

“You’ve been blessed by the Saints, Lady Yellowtail. You’ll have to spend some time with the Radiants when they get here, but I can’t see any major pieces of shrapnel in your eyes. Mostly just dust and tiny particles. I don’t believe there will be any permanent damage.”

“T-thanks, squire. Where is Sir Ratchet? I need an update on the situation.”

“Your second-in-command, lady?” Emberglow asked, glancing about. She could see the pegasus directing the Knights Vigilant as they pacified the remaining rioting crowd. Most had fled, many were down on the ground either of their own accord or due to injury. Several were not moving. Emberglow pushed it from her mind again. “He’s doing fine. I don’t see any serious injuries among your Knights, ma’am.”

There was a hoof on her shoulder. Emberglow looked up, surprised, into the gentle eyes of an unfamiliar Knight Radiant, wearing her white painted armor.

“Well done, squire. I will heal her injuries now. Thank you.”

“Um, of course, ma’am,” Emberglow stammered. “Is there any more I can do?”

The Knight Radiant’s attention was on her glowing rune gauntlet and the runes she was already writing over Lady Yellowtail. Her response was distracted.

“The Vigilant will only see criminals and enemies as they round up these miscreants, not wounded ponies. Ponies that might die if they don’t receive some help. My sisters and I will be working with the wounded Knights. Can you look for some of the worst cases and do what you can?”

“T-tell any Vigilants who challenge you that you have my authority,” Lady Yellowtail chimed in, her voice still hoarse with pain. Emberglow’s heart soared at the trust that had been placed in her.

The protest was completely over. The Knights were still standing. The protesters who had not fled, whether voluntarily or not, were on their bellies on the cobbled street. Many were bleeding or bruised. Out of the corner of her eye, Emberglow saw Lady Turquoise rush up, carrying more water and a bag full of bandages. She glanced at the crowd, then at Emberglow.

“In this, I am your squire, Emberglow. Just tell me how I can help,” the Knight Jubilant said. Emberglow smiled, though it was a bit grim as she considered the task ahead of them.

“Yes ma’am,” she said with a note of determination in her voice. With a gait far more confident than she felt inside, Emberglow trotted towards the first patients.

Chapter 10

Emberglow’s Dream Journal, Entry 5

Last night, I dreamed about the mare in the moon again. At least, I think I did. I never saw her, but I heard her voice. At first it was tears and sobbing, but when I began flying towards the sound, I think she realized I was there.

I’m still convinced this was some sort of lucid dream. I knew I was dreaming, but I was in control of most things. I was in a forest, and the sounds of crying and sobbing just kept getting louder as I got closer. Finally I flew into the clearing where the sounds were coming from.

The mare wasn’t there, or at least I couldn’t see her. I absolutely knew she was there, though (dream logic, I guess). I think she hid herself from my sight, somehow, but when I entered the clearing she stopped crying.

“Emberglow...” Her voice was sweet and musical, as usual when she addressed me. It floated like a wind, rustling the leaves on the trees around me.

“Can’t you tell me who you are?” I asked. This was the fifth time I’ve dreamed of this mare, and I was growing much more curious.

“You’re about to fly into a storm, Emberglow,” the voice replied. I don’t even know if she heard my question. “But you’re strong. Keep your ears open, my little pony, and listen with your heart.”

I felt a cool breeze blowing over my fur and feathers. It felt so much like the loving embrace of my mother that I longed to hug her back, but there was nothing to hug. I opened my mouth to speak again, but my alarm woke me up. I nearly didn’t get up, but I remembered that Lady Turquoise said we had somewhere important to go early this morning, so I forced myself out of bed.

Saints, she’s being so annoyingly cryptic about this whole thing.

1111 AF, Ruins of Old Canterlot

“So your Knight didn’t tell you anything about this trip either?” Emberglow asked Lofty as the two of them sat across from each other on the rattling train. It was chugging its way up the mountain towards the ruins high on the mountain above New Canterlot City.

“Just that we’ll be finishing our last six months as squires up in the ruins, and that there’s a lot of training that happens, more classes, more learning, and lots of secret stuff.” Lofty seemed much less curious than Emberglow, maybe even nonchalant. It was a touch annoying.

“That’s more than what Lady Turquoise told me,” she growled. “She pretty much shoved me onto the train with a muffin and a giggle, and said ‘good luck’ before walking off. You’d think after a year of working together, she could be a bit less frustrating.” She rolled her eyes. “I think she thinks she’s funny.” Lofty laughed, and Emberglow glared at him.

“Oh, Saints, it’s so good to see you, Emberglow. Letters weren’t enough,” he said as he chuckled. “Speaking of letters, you said you were in a riot recently? How was it?”

“Well I was behind the front lines. Just doing first aid and stuff,” Emberglow demurred, embarrassed by the eagerness she heard in his voice. “It was a group of actors and theater ponies protesting the arrest of some playwright.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know. Just that the censors objected to something in his play, and he refused to retract it.” Emberglow shrugged. She’d never bothered to learn more about why the ponies had been upset; her focus had been more on the emergency medical response. “Besides, my story’s not that impressive. What about you? Your letters seemed to suggest you were dating, what, about a dozen mares? Two dozen?”

“Not that many!” Lofty yelped, and Emberglow smirked.

“So it was more than one, then?” she said slyly, and Lofty blushed.

“Can we talk about something else?” he pleaded, rubbing his hooves together nervously. Emberglow laughed, but silently she agreed with him. It was just a bit too close to uncomfortable territory for the two of them.

She glanced out the window, watching the bushes and trees growing out of the side of the mountain whiz past them. “I haven’t ridden a train since I was a foal,” she said softly.

“Wow, really? I travel by train all the time. Our family’s country manor is…” Lofty began, then trailed off with an uncomfortable laugh. “Um, yeah. Never mind. I’ve been really working hard at not accidentally sounding like a rich jerk.”

“You’re fine,” Emberglow laughed, waving off his apology. “It’s a noble effort.”

Lofty grinned at her teasing tone before moving on. “So, how is your Knight’s project going on?”

“It’s going well. I don’t know how she’s going to cope without me, though,” Emberglow huffed, slightly annoyed. If she’d had a bit more preparation before she’d been unceremoniously dumped on a train full of confused and excited squires, maybe she could have prepared Lady Turquoise a bit better for the meetings, interviews, and other plans they’d planned for the coming weeks. She sighed. “She’ll be fine, though. She’s smart, and now thanks to me, she’s organized. Sir Steadfast is working with her, too.”

“That’s good. You still sound worried, though,” Lofty teased.

“Yeah, a little. At least she said she’d write.” Emberglow rolled her eyes before changing the subject to something less frustrating. “Anyway, did you finally decide which Order to join?”

“It took me a while. When I was a foal, trying for the Knighthood was always the plan, but I think I always saw myself defaulting to the Adamant. Joining the ranks of the family’s legend for derring-do and heroics, I guess. But as I grew up, that appealed to me less and less. I think all the time I’ve spent with Lady Mercy has rubbed off on me.”

“Um, you know you can’t join the Radiants, right?” Emberglow teased. Lofty laughed.

“Yes, yes. I don’t exactly have the equipment for it,” he replied, and Emberglow blushed. “That’s not what I meant, though. Lady Mercy and I spent a great deal of time at a military hospital with physical therapy, rehabilitating soldiers with permanent injuries. Amputees, that sort of thing. It made me think about how I wanted to help ponies.

“I spoke with a lot of soldiers, Emberglow. Common folk with backgrounds just like you. Um.” He paused for a second, seeming to realize that he might be saying something insensitive. He glanced at Emberglow, his eyes wary.

“Go on,” she prodded gently.

“I don’t know how else to put it, Emberglow. Ponies sometimes get into the military to escape their lives. We have it good in the city, Emberglow. Much better than most. Sometimes ponies sign up for the service just because they don’t wanna be trapped on a farm their whole life. It made me think that those ponies need somepony looking out for them. Somepony on their side.” He stopped, looking embarrassed. “Look, it sounds a little silly saying it out loud. I’d be the first to admit I’m a bit removed from the plight of common ponies. But I’m going to learn what I can. I’ve decided to join the Vigilant. So I can advocate for ponies. The less fortunate, that sort of thing. I think that’s the work the Saints are calling me to do.”

“Lofty, that’s amazing!” Emberglow smiled widely. It wasn’t hard to be proud of her friend. “I’m sure Saint Applejack is pleased with you.”

“I hope so.” Lofty smiled in return. “Lady Mercy approves. I had a lot of talks with her. She’s amazing.”

“Yes she is,” Emberglow agreed, thinking of her own all too brief encounters with the Knight Radiant. With a stunned, excited sort of realization, it dawned on her that the next time she saw Lady Mercy, they would probably be sisters in the Order. Her heart pounded with excitement, her hooves tapping against the train car floor in an excited tattoo. “So… what are we going to be doing on top of the mountain?” Her voice glowed with naked eagerness.

“No clue,” Lofty laughed at Emberglow’s enthusiasm. “I know we’re going to be trained by our future Order. We get to learn their secrets, whatever that means.”

“I’m really curious,” Emberglow admitted. “I can’t wait.”

It turned out that neither of them would have to wait for much longer. The train’s gentle ascent finally came to an end, and Emberglow and Lofty both looked out the car’s window to see a small, lonely station. The platform was tiny, and full of Knights in robes. The largest number of them were dressed in the sky blue robes of the Knights Adamant, though there were also a sizable number dressed in the pink robes of the Jubilant as well. There were less of the Mystics and Vigilant, and the Radiant were the fewest of all. In fact, Emberglow was almost certain there was only a single Knight Radiant, standing out in the sea of colored robes. One by one, the train attendant called out each squire’s name, assigning them to the Knight who would be in charge of their training.

“Squire Emberglow, report to Lady Whispery.” The attendant called her name, and she and Lofty shared a farewell hug before she stepped off to find her new mentor.

It turned out that Lady Whispery was the only Knight Radiant standing on a platform that was full of over energetic squires. She was easy to pick out of the crowd in her snow white robes complete with Saint Rarity’s cutie mark symbol on the flank. Emberglow trotted over, weaving past the other squires. It seemed like there was already another aspiring Radiant who had found their way to Lady Whispery first and was speaking with her. Emberglow thought the figure looked vaguely familiar, almost like…

She came to a stumbling halt, earning a few disgruntled looks from the other squires moving about. Almost unthinkingly, she clenched her eyes shut and breathed three deep breaths slowly, inhaling through her nose, exhaling through her mouth, before forcing her eyes open again.

Standing in front of Lady Whispery was a pastel purple earth pony with a familiar midnight blue mane. The squire who was apparently to be her fellow student, whom she would one day call "Sister", was Astrolabe, one of her bullies from the Ivy Seminary.

Suppressing a shudder, she forced herself to look forward as she walked the rest of the way to the Knight Radiant, trying her best to ignore the other squire.

Lady Whispery was a middle aged pegasus mare, with a short cut white mane and yellow fur and feathers. She wore glasses, and had a patient, matronly smile. A nametag was pinned to her robes.

“You’re Emberglow?” the Knight asked, and Emberglow nodded, trying not to be too dismayed that Astrolabe was there. Astrolabe looked equally displeased at Emberglow’s presence. “Good. If you’d both follow me please.” She sighed. “Only two this year. Oh well.”

As the two squires followed Lady Whispery out of the station, Astrolabe muscled her way in front of Emberglow with an upturned nose and an arrogant swish of her tail. Emberglow eyed her, suppressing an annoyed huff. She couldn’t even begin to imagine why this absolutely stuck up and vicious mare would think that she would belong with the Knights Radiant, an order dedicated to compassion and healing. It was an unworthy thought, and one that left her simmering with guilt, but it wouldn’t let go.

The three of them made their way through the crowd and queued up to exit the building; the single exit was creating a bit of a bottleneck at the mouth of the building. Emberglow stretched her neck to look over the crowd of ponies, seeing two Mystic guards checking each pony that exited the station, ensuring that only Knights and squires were admitted into the old Canterlot.

“They’re really serious about security,” she noted. Astrolabe sniffed, which Emberglow pointedly ignored, while Lady Whispery nodded.

“The Knights all hold this place sacred,” she said. “It’s important to all the orders. This place is the heart of Knighthood.” There was a fondness in her voice as she spoke, an earnest sort of fervor. “We are the only ones allowed in. Just Knights and squires.”

The station exited onto a packed dirt path that had been trod on by thousands of hooves over centuries. It was clear of debris or ruins, but to the right and left, in an absurd display of irrational architecture, cracked and crumbling white spires jutted into the sky. Some were even built into stilts or horizontal platforms jutting from the side of the steep mountain. Emberglow had read about the old city, but to see it herself was incredible. Indeed, all of the squires had gone silent, slowing almost to a standstill as they saw the impossible city clinging to the side of the mountain.

“This is unicorn arrogance in its finest,” Lady Whispery said softly. “They weren’t content to build on flat ground like a normal pony would, instead they had to warp the landscape to their liking. It sends a message to the rest of the ponies. ‘Look at us,’ it says. ‘Look at our majesty and our power.’ And where are they now?” She gave a humorless laugh. “That’s why we leave Old Canterlot like it is. So that we never forget what hubris looks like.”

“Didn’t the Diarchs themselves live here at one time?” Emberglow asked, ignoring the glare Astrolabe was giving her. “Why didn’t they put a stop to…” she gestured with her hoof at the extravagant devastation that surrounded her. “All this?”

“We don’t really know,” Lady Whispery said thoughtfully. “I’d like to think they tried to guide ponies with their example and the holiness of their presence, but we’ll never know for sure. The Saints themselves were silent on the subject.”

“There’s so much we don’t know…” Emberglow murmured, and Lady Whispery gave her a glance.

“At least they gave us everything we need,” the Knight Radiant said, and Emberglow nodded. “Now. During your time here in the ruins, we ask that you remain within the Palace, or on the paved streets. It is forbidden for Squires to explore the ruins. I have to emphasize this specifically. Every year we catch one or two young Squires wandering around in the ruins. Sometimes they’re just curious, sometimes they’re looking for a convenient spot for a lewd assignation. These little trips will not be tolerated, and will be punished severely. I won’t have to worry about that with the two of you, will I?” Both of the squires shook their heads. “Good. The ruins were left as they are out of respect for the Diarchs and the Saints, not to provide a playground for immature foals.” Emberglow had to suppress a smile; she felt like she was being scolded by her mother. She could hear some of the other groups of ponies moving up the street through the ruined town as well. It sounded like everypony else was getting a version of the same admonishment.

“Now, here’s what your schedule will look like while you are here. Every morning, you will rise at five thirty for exercise and morning prayers. Breakfast is at seven, followed by instruction in rune magic until noon. After lunch, we will study the history and teachings of Lady Rarity, followed by a free period where you are allowed to choose a subject to study more specialized knowledge. After dinner you will have personal time, until lights out at ten.” The Knight went through the schedule so quickly that Emberglow wondered if she should have taken notes, somehow. “Up until this point, everything you have been taught is common knowledge, shared among Knights, clergy, and lay ponies alike. From here on out, you will be learning the secrets of the Knights, and the secrets of Lady Rarity and the Radiant. These things are not to be shared with anypony outside the order.

“Finally, one last thing. As the only two candidates for the Knights Radiant, you will be sharing a room together. I’ve seen the looks you’ve given each other, and I have to ask. Will you be able to get along well enough to not bicker?”

Astrolabe looked back at Emberglow, her expression a mix of anger and frustration.

“We will do our best, ma’am,” Emberglow spoke up for both of them, and a flash of bitterness crossed over Astrolabe’s face. Emberglow shrugged; what had the other mare wanted her to say?

“Good. I know you are young, but I expect the best behavior of my young squires,” Lady Whispery said, and Emberglow once again got the sense of motherly authority from the mare. There was something odd about the mannerisms, about the way she was moving, that suddenly caught Emberglow’s trained eye.

“Ma’am, can I ask a question?” Emberglow ventured.

“Of course, dear. What do you need to know?”

“Are you carrying one of the Seamstress’ Orphans?” Emberglow asked. While Knights Radiant swore an oath of celibacy, there was a great need throughout the Diarchy for pegasus births. It was incredibly rare. So, pegasi among the Knights Radiant were allowed, if they so chose, to be artificially inseminated by an anonymous pegasus stallion donor, in hopes of producing a rare and valuable pegasus offspring. Of course the Knight couldn’t raise their own child; regardless of whether the foal was an earth pony or pegasus, it was given to surrogate parents to raise. While rare, these foals sometimes referred to themselves as the Seamstress’ Orphans, in honor of their symbolic mother, Saint Rarity herself.

“I am, squire,” Lady Whispery said, sounding impressed. “I didn’t think I was showing yet.”

“It was how you were moving, ma’am. And there’s just something motherly about you,” Emberglow finished the last with a blush of embarrassment. Lady Whispery laughed softly.

“Thank you, squire. I will probably be delivering shortly after the two of you take your oaths.” She paused thoughtfully. “I seem to remember reading something in your file about conventional medical training. It’s quite impressive that you picked out my pregnancy so quickly.” There was no recrimination in her voice for the off-topic question, but Emberglow couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed for asking such a personal query.

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said, suddenly very wary of the other squire walking in front of her. She was well aware of the jealousy and vitriol that had been directed at her in the Ivy Seminary because of her scholastic achievements, and she didn’t want to give Astrolabe any more reason to lash out at her. From the sour glances she saw from the mare every few seconds, however, Emberglow was sure that ship had already sailed. She tried to content herself by looking out over the forbidden ruins, taking in every detail about the abandoned city that she could.

The buildings around her were beautiful ivory spires, somehow still elegant in their cracked and fallen state. The path the ponies trod was surrounded by elegant mansions, most enclosed by crumbling walls featuring overgrown estates. It was amazing, given how long this city had been abandoned, that the flora had not taken over the entirety of the path.

“Lady Whispery, who maintains the city?” Emberglow asked.

“While all of the Orders claim the city as our sacred home, the Mystics have taken upon themselves responsibility for the city. They take care of the roads, and study the ruins, searching the debris left behind for anything of value, any hint of the Saints and the Diarchs.”

Up ahead, a tremendous and graceful palace emerged on the town’s horizon. Its majestic spires were intact, and even at a distance Emberglow could see that it had been maintained with loving care.

“Canterlot Palace, squires. We are treading in the hoofsteps of the Saints and the Diarchs. You are on holy ground.” The Knight’s voice was reverent as she spoke, and even the other ponies around them had grown soft and solemn. At the same time, though, Emberglow also kept one thought on the front of her mind: the city, this holy place, had been built by the tainted magic of unicorns. It was an unsettling thought, and Emberglow shoved it aside.

As they approached the palace, Emberglow realized that it wasn’t a single building, but a walled complex with dozens of buildings. The wall was nearly six ponies high, and made of alabaster. It was ancient, but clean, and capped with battlements. Towers at regular intervals were topped with conical purple roofs, and Emberglow could see purple armored Mystics patrolling the tops of the walls and lurking behind windows in the towers. The street they were walking on ended in an elaborate gilded gate, bordered by two of the towers and guarded by two armed Mystics.

“That’s a lot of guards,” Astrolabe commented. “They can’t possibly think the palace is going to be attacked, can they?”

“It has been before,” Lady Whispery said enigmatically. Emberglow opened her mouth to ask more, but before she could speak, the shuffling crowd around her came to a halt. The ponies had all reached the gilded gates, and a sort of anticipatory hush fell over the crowd, their conversation dulling to a murmur. They gathered in front of the gates, waiting for something to happen, and Emberglow’s question flew out of her mind in her burgeoning curiosity. The assembled squares all fell completely still when they saw the glow of rune magic as one of the Mystic guards, an older mare, drew in the air with her gauntlet. It was a voice amplification spell.

“All who are here, heed my warning,” her magically enhanced voice boomed out over the crowd. “This place is sacred and secret, hallowed by the Knights who walk its grounds, and by all the Knights who gave their lives in the war against heresy and darkness. Only those who have sworn the oath of the Squire, or the Oath of Knighthood, may enter. All others be damned, and cursed for the next three incarnations. If you enter here, keep these secrets close to your heart and reveal them to nopony. Break this command and be damned, and cursed for the next three incarnations. To those with pure intent, enter, and find learning and rest.” She tapped the butt of her spear twice against the street, and the gates swung inwards. The ponies in front, nearest the gates, hesitated, stepping forward slowly and cautiously. Urged forward by their Knights, the squires finally managed to step inside the outer walls and catch their first real glimpse of the inner courtyard of Canterlot Palace.

The inside was like history frozen in time. The buildings here were ancient but well-repaired, still retaining much of their elegant grandeur. The inner grounds looked like a park, with elegant vine-covered arches, graceful stone bridges over gently bubbling streams and clear ponds covered with lily pads. While the place may have been empty of all ponies but Knights, there were countless other forms of life; birds of all colors, small mammals, and insects darted about the perfect gardens. The paths that cut through the plant and animal life seemed like intrusions into the immaculately curated wildness of the grounds.

“There are several buildings on the grounds,” Lady Whispery told them in a soft voice. “I will show you where you may go. All of the Orders have their own buildings here, and we keep our secrets closely. Trespassing on another Order’s territory is forbidden. If you become lost, find any Knight and they will tell you where you may go. We will first be heading for the Shrine of the Generous, our headquarters here at Canterlot Palace. It’s not as large or impressive as some of the other Orders’ buildings, but I think it’s the most beautiful.” The Knight smirked. “I might be a touch biased, however.”

This close to the Palace itself, Emberglow felt like an ant, dwarfed by the utter majesty of the Diarchs’ home while walking among mortals. It looked like exactly the kind of place the masters of the sun and moon would have once lived; beautiful, extravagant, and graceful, with perfect arches and buttresses. Emberglow’s heart soared at the idea that she would soon be able to walk in those halls, to step in the places where the Saints stood.

The Shrine of the Generous was tucked away in one of the more heavily wooded areas of the ground. The building itself was a flat roof with a garden on top. The grey stone walls were covered with trellises full of emerald green ivy. The double doors in front were small, made of stained wood with painted carvings of Saint Rarity’s cutie mark in front. A Knight Radiant in perfect, immaculate white armor stood on guard in front of the door. The mare on guard nodded and smiled at Lady Whispery as she approached. Lady Whispery returned the greeting, but did not pause to speak as she opened the door and ushered the Saints inside.

“Welcome to the Shrine of the Generous, squires,” Lady Whispery said. The door opened to a small foyer, complete with a cloakroom. Beyond that lay a parlor filled with pillows and couches, a rather cozy looking room with a fireplace and a stuffed bookshelf. To Emberglow, it immediately felt like her room at home; small, cozy, and full of books. She grinned as she looked around the room, and even had to stop herself from trotting forward to read the titles on the books. She knew where she’d be spending lots of her own free time.

The Knight gave the two squires a quick tour of the small facility. On the bottom floor was the entrance, the parlor, and a kitchen with an intimate dining room attached. Upstairs were the bedrooms for the individual Knights who were staying at the Shrine, as well as a bedroom for the two squires. There was also a narrow spiral staircase that led to the roof, with access to the garden that Emberglow had seen from the outside.

“We do all our own cooking,” Lady Whispery said as she showed them the kitchen. “We always have at least one sister assigned to the Shrine to for upkeep and cooking duties for any who wish to find peace here. Once you are a full Sister, you’ll be able to consider this place as your home. You have full use of the parlor, the dining room, the gardens, and the kitchen. Do either of you know how to cook?”

“No ma’am.” Astrolabe and Emberglow both shook their heads. Emberglow could bake a little, thanks to her mother, but she’d mostly focused on her studies as a young foal.

“You will be learning the basics while you’re here,” the Knight proclaimed. “We all take turns cooking. Now, head up to your room and unpack. I will be in the parlor if you need me. Once you’re done, feel free to relax here or come down and meet your future sisters with me in the parlor. And squires? Welcome to Canterlot Palace.” The two squires trotted upstairs and into their sparsely furnished room.

“I knew. I knew you’d be here, with your arrogant, smug, jumped up attitude and your ugly peasant face,” Astrolabe muttered the second the door was closed. She looked miserable.

“I thought you said you could get along?” Emberglow asked softly as she set her bags down on one of the two beds. Inwardly she steeled herself for the argument she felt coming; she felt the sour twist of anger in herself, and she knew it wouldn’t help anything if they were both acting emotionally.

“You said that, not me.” Astrolabe tossed her bags onto the other bed with her back to Emberglow. “Besides, Lady Whispery isn’t here right now.”

“I don’t want to spend the entire time here at war with you, Astrolabe.” Emberglow was trying to remain patient, but it wasn’t easy.

“You can always go home then. I’m sure your peasant parents miss you.” Astrolabe’s voice was saccharine, fakely sweet as if she’d just had a pleasant idea. Emberglow had to bite back a snarl, and counted out at least three deep breaths before responding.

“I’m not going home, Astrolabe. If I can’t convince you to try and get along, can we at least try to ignore each other?” Emberglow asked, trying not to sound like she was pleading. Astrolabe spun and glared at her, mouth open for a retort. Emberglow could see the conflict in her eyes. Suddenly she sighed, sounding weary.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to. Emberglow, I hate you. I hate you so much. You don’t belong here, and you’re the reason my best friend got drummed out of Seminary. You’re so smart and so smug about it, and you’re nothing. Common dirt. How can you think I could ignore that, and set it aside?”

“Maybe because we’re on the same side?”

“Don’t you dare put us on the same level,” Astrolabe breathed, trembling with fury.

“Green Fields made her own bed, Astrolabe.” Emberglow felt the wall of patience she had built slipping as the frustration she felt slipped into her own words. “She was warned. She made her choices, and her consequences were completely out of my hooves. Lady Amaranth was already watching what was going on. If the two of you hadn’t vandalized my dress, she’d be here alongside us.”

“Shut up, would you?” Astrolabe sneered, and let out a shudder. “I’ll... I’ll pretend. For my sake. And for the Order. But you’re going to fail, and you’re going to disappoint us all. Do you know how I know?” Emberglow shook her head wordlessly. “Because you’re nothing. And you’ll always be nothing. I’m better than you. Green Fields is better than you. She’s already back at the Seminary, and when she gets to our level, she’ll show how much better than you she is.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t work out something better,” Emberglow said sadly. Astrolabe snorted, turning back to her task. “I don’t want to hate you.”

“As if anything you thought mattered to me,” Astrolabe snarled. Emberglow gave up, falling into silence. She quickly emptied the rest of her bags, including her own Book of the Saints, a few personal effects, and her journal and quills, into the hooflocker at the bottom of the bed.

“I’m going down to the parlor,” Emberglow announced to the silent room. Astrolabe grunted and swished her tail angrily, but didn’t turn around. With a shrug, Emberglow turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Just the mere presence of a physical barrier between her and Astrolabe brought a sense of guilty relief. She did her best to put a smile on and trotted downstairs to the parlor.

“Is Astrolabe coming down?” Lady Whispery asked from where she was reclining on a pile of pillows. There were no other Knights about, but Emberglow could hear the sounds of other ponies moving about the building.

“I don’t know,” Emberglow said softly, trying to keep any hint of distress or animosity out of her voice. Lady Whispery’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

“Oh well. If she needs more time to unwind, I can speak with her in a bit.” Lady Whispery shifted uncomfortably on her pillows, standing up with a grunt of pain. “Sorry. They never tell you about the muscle soreness and discomfort that comes with pregnancy.” Emberglow just nodded as Lady Whispery walked over and pulled a single typewritten sheet off the bookshelf. “So I mentioned that you would have some free time each day to choose your own guided study. There are several other Knights Radiant staying here, and each one is an expert in a different field. You’ll be able to pick your courses of study while you’re here. It’s not just the Radiant that will be teaching you; your mentor, Steadfast Word, sent me a letter. He suggested you may benefit from some of the civics and politics lessons offered by various Mystics and Jubilant.” She passed the sheet over to Emberglow. “This lists some of the specialty teachers and subjects that are available to you.”

Emberglow’s mind lit up with possibilities as her eyes scanned the list. There were all sorts of options; psychiatry, specialized pegasus combat training, shield spells, even things like military tactics. She felt spoiled for choice.

“I don’t have to pick now, do I?”

“No.” Whispery smiled indulgently. “We’ll take some time and talk it over tomorrow."

After a half hour, Astrolabe came down as well. She was all perfect politeness and smiles, and seemed eager as Lady Whispery handed her a copy of the same page. Together, the three of them discussed schedules and class options until Lady Whispery said it was time for dinner. The two squires followed the quiet Knight into the kitchen to help her prepare.

Dinner was a peanut-sauce cucumber and carrot stir fry, seasoned with all sorts of exotic spices from across the sea. Emberglow felt totally comfortable helping out in the small kitchen, and she had to admit that any lack of experience Astrolabe showed, she made up for with an eagerness to learn that surprised Emberglow. The two of them studiously ignored each other as much as possible, communicating only when absolutely necessary.

The dining room was beautiful in its simplicity. The Knights Radiant swore an Oath of Poverty, so their furnishings were an exercise in practicality and stability without extravagance. The table was solid wood, and the dishes were simple and sturdy. While they cooked, the other Radiant stationed at the Shrine had gathered and eagerly awaited their meal.

Dinner was friendly and homey. The other Knights were eager to meet the new squires, and went out of their way to make the squires feel comfortable and welcome. Emberglow felt like even Astrolabe’s chilly presence couldn’t cool the warmth she felt at that moment. She knew the next few months would probably be full of gruelingly difficult study and effort, but knowing that this would be a part of the everyday made even the thought of all that effort appealing.

After dinner came evening prayers, and a devotional prepared by one of the Knights. The squires were strictly warned that the next day would be intense, so it was suggested they turn in early to get as much rest as possible. The two squires cleaned up after dinner and retreated to their bedroom. Emberglow decided to try to reach out a little.

“Good night, Astrolabe,” she said softly just before the other mare turned out the light.

“Shut it,” Astrolabe spat. It hurt, but part of Emberglow was simply glad the conversation was over. She tried not to sigh out loud as she nestled into the warm covers of her bed.

True to her word, Lady Whispery woke the both of them up at five thirty and provided them with jogging sweats. The two mares changed quickly and followed Lady Whispery into the cool clear night.

After the light morning exercise the ponies had a few minutes to shower and change into their robes, and then it was off to breakfast in the palace’s huge, vaulted dining hall. It was the squires' first time in the imposing, mostly empty building. Emberglow couldn’t stop thinking about where she was long enough to enjoy her breakfast. Her imagination went wild; the Diarchs had lived here. Had they eaten meals in this room? Had conversations with servants? Taught lessons to the Saints? A billion questions echoed through her mind.

Their first lesson was a grueling, three hour marathon lesson on healing runes. Lunch was followed with a history and theology lesson taught by Lady Whispery. They read from the Book of the Saints, mostly, but the most interesting part was a disclaimer that came at the end of the lesson:

“Knights represent the best and brightest that ponies have to offer. We are the elite, the greatest, the first and last line of defense against the darkness and evil that fill the world. It is a grave responsibility, and it is only set upon our backs because we are able to bear it. While you are learning here at the Palace you may see and learn things that are disturbing to you, or that challenge your faith in ways you didn’t think you could be challenged. This is a test of your integrity and faith. Stay true to the Saints and you will be fine.” Both of her students asked what she meant, but Lady Whispery simply explained enigmatically that it would become clear over the course of her lessons.

Days turned into weeks, and then into months. Unlike in the Ivy Seminary, there were no large classrooms, merely Knight tutors teaching groups of squires no larger than two or three at a time. One of the most fascinating was Lady Whispery. She wasn’t exaggerating when she spoke about her instruction challenging faith. It was opening Emberglow’s eyes to a number of uncomfortable facts.

The stories in the Book of the Saints were morality tales, presented in a sort of ethical black and white. The good guys were always good, the bad guys were always bad, et cetera. There was no room for nuance or shades of grey. Lady Whispery turned all that on its head.

“The Book of the Saints is first and foremost a religious text, not a historical one,” Lady Whispery told the two squires one day. “Though the events detailed occurred in truth, the stories are presented in a way to teach us lessons first, and remain true to the details of the event second. That is not to say that they are false, or fiction. Merely that we need to be aware of the tone in which the Saints penned their own lessons. There may come a time when you come face to face with evidence or ideas that contradict what is taught in the Book. Remember, regardless of what you learn, the Book of the Saints is the true will of the Diarchs.”

It had taken a few moments for Emberglow to work out exactly what Lady Whispery was implying. Did such evidence even exist? She felt a strange, uncanny sort of discomfort deep inside, perhaps even a premonition. It was as if the Knight Radiant was trying to warn her of something, but didn’t want to even put it into words. It reminded her of her thoughts on the way into the city earlier, about how the entire holy city was built by tainted unicorn magic.

From Lady Whispery they learned not just of the acts of Saint Rarity, but of generations of Knights Radiant throughout the Diarchy. “We have all kinds of mares in our history, from heroes to scoundrels, from cowards to martyrs. Each one is an example to follow or a warning to be heeded. One of the most frightening stories in our history is that of Lady Sweet Breeze and Sir Arctic Breeze. They were twins, and they rose their way through the ranks of their orders until she was Grand Master of the Radiant and he led the Angelic. They were as close as siblings could ever be.

“They teach that nopony saw the betrayal of the Angelic coming. But this is untrue. Lady Sweet Breeze did, because her beloved brother told her everything. She begged him to stop, to move off the path he was trotting down, but he was implacable. She could have warned the other orders what was coming, or even gotten help from some of the other Grand Masters. But she did nothing more than try to convince him to change his mind. She couldn’t bear to see anypony hurt her brother, so she remained silent.

“This is the peril of our Order. Our sin, our weakness,” Lady Whispery taught. “Much like the Angelic, we often think with our hearts, rather than our heads or our faith. Remember, the Book will not lead you astray. The Diarchy may have imperfect ponies leading and guiding it, but at the helm are the Sun and Moon. Stay obedient, and you will never be led astray.”

The story of the fall of the Angelic took a dominant place in several of Lady Whispery’s lessons. The Radiant spoke of it differently than Emberglow was used to. She remembered her religion teachers at the Ivy Seminary speaking of the Day of Hope, the hypothetical fabled day when the Knights Discordant were redeemed and returned to the fold, as at best idle superstition, at worst ignorant heresy. The Radiant viewed it almost as an inevitability, though Lady Whispery was sure to stress that this wasn’t something that they were to speak to other Knights about. Everypony in the Orders had a different view on the subject, and it wasn’t the role of the Radiants to create debate. When Emberglow asked why the Radiants taught these views, however, Lady Whispery was silent.

“You will learn that when you swear your oaths,” she told the two of them mysteriously. Astrolabe shrugged it off, but Emberglow’s curiosity was piqued, and Lady Whispery’s silence was maddening.

A few nights later, as Emberglow slipped into the bedroom to prepare for the night, Astrolabe was there, standing next to the window. She stared out into the palace grounds, her gaze troubled. There was a sheet of folded paper in one hoof.

There was a part of Emberglow, maybe even a healer’s instinct, that wanted to fix whatever was wrong with Astrolabe. She even opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated. Last time she’d tried to share words with Astrolabe, she’d been told to shut up. Regretfully, she closed her mouth again and moved over to her own bed, trying to steel herself for another night of awkward silence with the frustrating mare before Emberglow finally drifted off.

“Um,” Astrolabe whispered, and Emberglow looked up. Astrolabe looked uncomfortable, even angry, and her eyes were fixed on the floor between them. Angrily Astrolabe smashed the paper onto the nightstand between their beds. “I…” That was about all she could manage, shaking her head with frustration.

“This is going to be a long few months if we can’t even talk to each other, Astrolabe.” Emberglow kept her voice low; she didn’t know how much sound carried between the walls of the Shrine of the Generous, but she didn’t want Lady Whispery to overhear and think they were fighting. She paused before she could begin changing, if only to hide the nervous twitch she seemed to get in her hooves whenever Astrolabe tried to speak to her directly.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Astrolabe snarled, blinking tears that Emberglow hadn’t noticed. Emberglow shrugged and waited. “I… I’m sorry.”

“What was that?” Emberglow’s ears jerked towards the other mare, her eyes narrowing with confusion. She was absolutely sure she’d never heard Astrolabe say those words to her.

“I got a letter from Green Fields,” Astrolabe muttered. “She’s moving on to her own squiring, after you got her suspended. She… wanted me to pass on a message.”

“And?”

“She’s sorry, okay?” Astrolabe’s eyes finally met Emberglow’s, and they burned with hurt. Emberglow didn’t quite understand.

“She’s… sorry?”

“Are you deaf?” Astrolabe snorted. She snatched up the letter again and read, her voice twisted with sarcasm. “‘Please tell Miss Emberglow how deeply I regret my actions at the Ivy Seminary. I was cruel and vicious, and I never should have tormented her the way I did. Please pass on my sincerest apologies for destroying her dress, and all the harmful pranks I pulled. And please ask if she would mind if I sent her a letter myself, to say these things to her directly.’” Astrolabe huffed and crammed the letter back down on the table.

“Is that it?” Emberglow asked. Honestly, she didn’t know how to feel about all this. On the one hand, it felt like a win; she’d never expected an apology, so this was a welcome surprise. On the other hand, there was a small, mean part of her, a dark, shriveled, wounded part of her heart that wondered what Green Field’s angle was, or what she stood to gain from making this apology. It hurt to think that way, so she tried to shove it deep down.

“No. She also said…” Astrolabe trailed off. Emberglow waited, watching while Astrolabe’s gaze darted between Emberglow and the letter she’d slammed into the nightstand, before blurting as quickly as she could. “ShesaidIhavetoapologizetoo!”

“Oh,” Emberglow was stunned, and a burning spark of her own anger ignited deep inside that wounded part of her. She clenched her eyes shut as she tried to shove the anger aside, but it slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Do you even mean that? You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Astrolabe challenged, her face flushed with emotion.

“You know what I mean,” Emberglow snarled, surprising herself with her own bubbling fury. The image of the dress spun in her mind, and bitter tears brimmed in her eyes. Her anger congealed into impulsive, acrid words, and she spat them out without thinking. “You’re just a dumb sheep. You’ve never had an original thought in your entire life. You’re a follower, Astrolabe.”

“What do you know, commoner filth?” Astrolabe shrieked.

“Am I wrong?” Emberglow’s heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears. “Everything you did to me was her idea, right? Not yours?” Astrolabe sneered, but didn’t deny it. “You’re like her lapdog, always doing everything Green Fields tells you to.”

As soon as she said it, Emberglow knew she’d gone too far. Astrolabe’s face twisted in a paroxysm of rage. Her hooves trembled as she reached for the closest thing; the letter she’d been holding. She crumpled it into a ball and hurled it at Emberglow with a shriek.

“You can just burn in Tartarus, peasant bitch!” The letter bounced limply off Emberglow’s shoulder, but Astrolabe was already reaching for something else to throw. Emberglow decided it was time to go, darting out of the room and slamming the door shut behind her before Astrolabe could decide to start throwing hooves. She flinched as she heard two thuds of impact as something, probably books, thudded against the door. When Astrolabe didn’t bother to open the door and continue their altercation, however, Emberglow breathed a sigh of relief.

“What was that all about?” Lady Whispery’s stern voice made Emberglow jump so high she almost took flight. With a sheepish glance behind her, she looked into Lady Whispery’s disapproving eyes. “Well?”

“It was my fault, Lady Whispery,” Emberglow admitted reluctantly, panting a bit as she came down from the adrenaline of the fight. “She was trying to apologize, and I—I uh, yelled at her. Escalated things. I shouldn’t have, I’ll go back and…”

“Squire, wait,” Lady Whispery ordered. “If I heard correctly, she’s quite upset. Go cool off. Go for a walk, or something. I’ll speak with you both in the morning at breakfast.”

“But I should…”

“You should follow my instructions, squire. I’ll get your side of the story in the morning.” Lady Whispery’s voice brooked no argument, so with drooping ears and shoulders, Emberglow slunk out of the Shrine of the Generous.

The moon was full and heavy in the starlight sky, and Emberglow found herself thinking of her strange dreams about the mare in the moon. She hadn’t dreamed about the mysterious voice since she came to Old Canterlot, but being out in the night made Emberglow feel at least a glimmer of Her presence.

A gentle moonlight jog didn’t seem like a bad idea at all, suddenly. She set out at an easy pace, moving through the paved trails of the palace grounds, letting all her thoughts slip away. The only things she was aware of were the silvery moonlight and the gentle breeze over her fur.

Emberglow picked her trails at random, paying no attention to the direction she was going. It wasn’t against the rules as long as she stayed on the paved paths, so she allowed herself to wander, revelling in the cool night.

As she ran, she idly wondered what was out there in the city itself. Her gaze drifted upwards to the spires she could see just above the wall, on the other side. What kind of ponies had lived in those spires? What had their lives been like?

Her thoughts floated gently until rather abruptly halting when she stumbled right into another pony with a thud. The pony grunted in pain, and the two of them tumbled onto the ground.

“Emberglow?” came the muffled voice of the pony underneath her.

Emberglow scrambled up. “Lofty?” she yelped. “Oh Saints, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and I ran right into you, I’m so sorry...” She stopped apologizing because Lofty was laughing.

“I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m not,” Lofty snorted, groaning a bit as Emberglow helped him to his hooves. He had on a pair of saddlebags over his squire robes, and he nervously checked them with his hoof as he stood. Emberglow wondered what he had brought outside with him, but he didn’t open the bags to look. “I don’t know why, but I expected to see you tonight.” He paused, then added with a grin, “Well, maybe not in such a dramatic fashion.”

“Um, really?” Emberglow asked, blushing. Lofty chuckled, and shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess.” Lofty scratched at the back of his head, embarrassed. “I know it sounds weird, but it was just a thought I had when I left my room. I knew I’d see you tonight.”

“Uh…”

“Look, um, it’s going to sound really ridiculous when I say this, but bear with me, okay?” Lofty began, his voice nervous. “I… sometimes have weird dreams. Dreams where I talk to the moon. Or, a mare from the moon. I...” Lofty faltered, trailing off awkwardly. “Never mind. It’s silly. I should—”

“You dream about her too?” Emberglow breathed. Lofty’s eyes went wide, and he reached out with one hoof, grabbing Emberglow’s shoulder tightly. There was a desperate sort of glee in his eyes. “The first time was that night. The night you“ — she took a sharp breath — “confessed to me.” He was nodding quickly.

“I thought I was crazy, the first time.” Lofty spoke quickly, almost stumbling over the words. “I even asked Lady Mercy Song. She said it might be…” His voice dropped to the barest breath of a whisper. “You know. Her. The Diarch of the Moon.”

Emberglow’s eyes shot wide. Luna. Even thinking the holy name felt blasphemous. She’d never made the connection.

“You think she’s speaking to us?” Emberglow squeaked, trembling. Lofty nodded silently, his face filled with awe. She should feel terrified. Awed. Insignificant and unworthy. Instead she looked up at the moon and felt…loved.

Accepted.

Comfortable.

“You feel it too?” she whispered. “Like when your mother smiles at you.”

“Oh Saints, no,” Lofty snorted. “I hated my mother.” He looked up at the moon himself. “No, for me it’s more like a sister. Except one that doesn’t hate you and judge everything you do.” His eyes moved to Emberglow, shining with emotion. “Like when you smile at me, Emberglow.”

Emberglow blushed, but couldn’t help but smile. In an instant, all of the hurt, the lingering awkwardness and scars of their falling out, dissolved in the look they shared. Lofty’s own smile was almost as bright as the moon.

“So, was she the one who brought you out tonight?” Emberglow asked, still glowing a bit from his compliment earlier.

Lofty nodded. “You too?”

“I don’t think so.” Emberglow cringed as she remembered what brought her outside. “It was a fight with Astrolabe.”

“Oh. What’d she do this time?” Lofty sighed. Emberglow reddened.

“Doesn’t matter. It was my fault anyways,” she muttered. “What was your dream?”

“She showed me the palace wall, and a crack in the wall. I’ve been coming out here for the past few nights, trying to find the spot she showed me. But in my dream, you were there too,” Lofty said. “I think you had to be out here for me to find it.”

“Lofty, that makes no sense,” Emberglow said, but deep down she doubted. It sounded like dream logic and they were, after all, talking about taking instructions from a mare in their dreams.

“I know. I don’t care. Help me find a crack in the wall, behind some topiary. It should be large enough for us to fit through—“

“Lofty! You’re thinking about going out into the city?” Emberglow gasped, nervously rubbing her hooves together. “You know that’s forbidden.”

“I’d do anything to make Her tears stop, Emberglow,” Lofty said solemnly, and Emberglow’s throat tightened. He was right, and she knew it; she felt the same thing he was expressing every time she heard the sorrow in the mare’s voice. “If She wants me to see something out in the city, I’m going.”

“But still,” Emberglow protested nervously, glancing up at the moon. “I don’t want to get caught.” She hated herself a little for saying that. It felt cowardly. There was a small, usually silent part of her that envied her friend’s boldness.

“You’re coming with me?” Lofty said, his voice teasing.

“I didn’t say that,” Emberglow scowled at him. “But you really should think about this. What happens if they catch us? Do we get kicked out?”

“I don’t think they’d do that,” he scoffed. “Especially not to you. They need every Radiant they can get, right? And we’ll be careful. It’s only a problem if we get caught.” His voice lowered and became more fervent. “Besides, I have to do it for Her. I wish I could explain it, but I can’t.”

She nodded carefully. “I’ll come with you, Lofty.” She glanced up at the moon herself. Wordlessly they began trotting near the wall, scanning for the topiary. The whole time, Emberglow felt a growing coldness of guilt in the pit of her gut. She was breaking the rules! Even though a part of her felt Lofty was right, it still didn’t help the growing discomfort that turned her stomach and made her heart pound.

Emberglow didn’t know what she was looking for, but it wasn’t long before Lofty whooped in victory, pointing at a tall, rounded bush. Sure enough, just barely large enough for the two of them to crawl through on their bellies, was a small crack in the wall.

“Emberglow, if you don’t want to go with me, I understand,” Lofty whispered as he eyed the crack. “But I feel like I have to. If Lady Mercy is right, and I’m really dreaming about Her, I have to see what She wants me to see.”

“I’m coming, Lofty. I want to know, too.” He nodded once, a jerky, nervous movement, and shuffled down onto his belly to squeeze through the crack. She waited for him to pass through, glancing to the right and left on the trail to make sure they weren’t being watched before following after him.

Outside, the ruined city was almost pitch black. The inner grounds were well lit by regular electric lights, but nopony ventured outside at night. Out here, the only light was the faint, silvery moonlight streaming in from between the buildings.

“C’mon,” Lofty whispered, nearly inaudible. “Let’s get out of sight from the wall.” Emberglow glanced up at the top of the wall. There were no patrols yet, but that could change any second. She followed him as the two galloped deeper into the dark ruins.

On the way into Canterlot the ruins had been full of wonder and mystery. Now, shrouded in inky blackness, they were terrifying. Broken spires cast moonlight shadows over shattered cobblestone streets. Tightly packed, broken buildings closed around them claustrophobically. Once they were out of sight of the wall, they moved slowly, picking their way cautiously between the bits of rubble. Emberglow felt herself subconsciously drifting closer to Lofty.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Lofty teased sotto voce. Emberglow scowled at him, an expression he probably missed in the blackness. “You don’t believe the silly stories they tell about the ghosts out here, right?”

“I’m not scared!” Emberglow hissed back. She felt her cheeks flush pinker than usual when she realized how much like a pouty foal she sounded like. “What stories?”

“Oh, right, you spend all your time hanging out with the jerk.” Lofty sighed. “There’s a ghost in these ruins. She wanders about the buildings in a hooded black robe, moaning and crying about her lost love. It’s said she gobbles up squires who wander out of the palace into the ruins.” Lofty’s voice changed as he told the story, taking on a theatrical lilt.

Emberglow laughed, a nervous, high pitched sound that was less amusement and more worried denial. “You don’t expect me to believe that, right? That’s just a ridiculous story they tell to keep squires out of the ruins. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“I don’t know,” Lofty teased. “Creepy ruins, moonlight shadows. There could be all sorts of things out there.”

“Well, there’s no such thing as ghosts,” she muttered. “Anyway, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“I was just going to follow the moon,” Lofty replied cryptically. Emberglow almost smacked him for the nonsensical reply, but looking up at the silvery orb hanging high above them,then back at the twisting streets and alleys ahead, she understood what he meant. There was always one moonlit path just ahead that looked just a little less shadowed, just slightly better lit, or just a touch clearer. The two squires walked close together, nearly brushing up against each other’s sides.

“Wait,” Emberglow said, pointing with one hoof. They were on a street full of ruined shops, complete with broken, unreadable signs and shattered facades. Behind the display window of one shop, broken probably hundreds of years ago, Emberglow saw what looked like the figure of a pony. Both squires ducked, backing into the shadows across the street from the shop.

“Is that a pony?” Lofty whispered. Emberglow narrowed her eyes. It was hard to see, but a beam of moonlight was falling right through the display window on the pony shaped figure.

“No… it’s a ponnequin,” Emberglow said with wonder. “This was a clothing shop of some sort. She moved forward, but Lofty grabbed her.

“Emberglow! You’re gonna go galloping inside the dangerous ruins without looking first just to check out a clothing shop?” In the shadowy night, his face looked at least a little nervous. “I thought you were the one who was nervous about being out here?”

“I’m just getting a closer look,” she shot back, but proceeded more cautiously as she drew closer to the shop.

Even in the shadowy moonlight, Emberglow could tell the shop was whimsically designed. A short staircase, rounded outwards, led to a gaping open doorway that may have once held a wooden door. On either side of the entrance were wide display windows, missing nearly all of their glass. She stepped carefully across the broken cobbles in the street, her eyes stuck on the building.

It was strangely fascinating to her. A thousand years ago, a pony, or maybe even a unicorn, had run this shop. He (or she) had lived their life, sewing dresses and suits, running their business. She wondered about that pony, about their story. What had his hopes and dreams been? His loves and fears? It all felt so mundane and yet so mysterious.

There were more ponnequins inside, toppled and desiccated. Emberglow could see open doorways to more rooms in the back of the store, as well as a rounded staircase reaching up to a balcony high above. She looked back at Lofty.

“C’mon,” she called out. Not waiting for him, she trotted up the stairs into the building itself. Lofty scurried across the street after her. “I don’t suppose you brought something that makes light, did you?”

“In fact, I did,” he said smugly. He reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a rune gauntlet. “We’ve been issued our own, for practice between classes. Here.” He held the apparatus out to Emberglow. “You were always more clever at spellcasting than I was.”

“Thanks,” she said, and put the gauntlet on. Dragging her hoof through the air, she drew the runes for a simple floating light orb. It was a variation of the same simple spell they’d cast together, their very first time casting rune spells with each other back in Sir Sablebeard’s class. An orb of light appeared, floating above Emberglow’s head and bathing the room in pinkish light.

The mysterious shop was, almost disappointingly, empty.

“Why did she want us to come here?” Lofty said, his voice echoing in the empty shop. Emberglow shrugged.

“You’re sure this is where she was leading us?” Emberglow asked. Her voice felt too loud for the room. “What if…” she gulped. “What if we were wrong?” She didn’t want to be wrong about the mare in the moon. She wanted Her to be real, to be the loving, nurturing creature she felt in her dreams.

“We’re not wrong,” Lofty looked around the room. “There’s something here we were meant to see, I’m sure of it.” His gaze fell on one of the ponnequins that appeared to be still standing. “Hm. That one has clothing, still.”

“That’s impossible…” Emberglow began, glancing where he was pointing. Indeed, in the shadows was a figure with a black cloak.

Then, both squires let out a shriek of terror when the figure moved, lifting a black cloth-draped hoof to point at them.

“You don’t belong,” it rasped at them. It’s voice was like silk dragging across gravel, somehow both rough and smooth. “This isn’t your place. You don’t belong.”

The pony was somehow behind them, appearing as if out of the shadows to block the doorway. Emberglow’s eyes shifted to the large, open windows. There was enough space to jump out if they had to, and it was only a few feet’s drop to the ground. Carefully she began edging towards one, and Lofty got the idea and followed.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I don’t remember,” the dark figure whimpered, its voice echoing soulfully through the mostly quiet shop. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Nothing?” Lofty sounded curious. Emberglow shot him a glare, and he shrugged.

“Nothing. I sold my memories for—“ she trailed off, her voice like the last wisps of a fading wind. “—time. For more time.”

“Time?” Emberglow asked.

“They all died. All but one. I needed more time to find the one that went missing. Why don’t I remember their names?” She sobbed at the last, a desperate, aching sound.

“Why are you here?” Lofty’s voice was getting stronger, more confident. When Emberglow eyed him, and the open window, he simply looked significantly up at the moon, just peeking through the open window into the darkened shop.

“Because I thought she might be here,” the figure said. “I thought I felt her here. Sensed her essence. But it was only a relic, hidden and left behind and forgotten. Like me.”

“Who is she?”

“I don’t remember!” the figure wailed in despair, stomping a hoof in frustration against the floor. “It’s my fault she’s missing—“ The pony collapsed onto the floor, shaking with dry sobs.

“What happened?” Emberglow asked. Her own voice felt hoarse with fear, but she couldn’t help her own growing curiosity. Besides, the figure was frightening, but appeared harmless. “What is your fault?”

“I don’t remember,” the figure repeated. The hood lifted just slightly, and Emberglow felt the fur on her neck stand on edge as she felt the weight of the creature’s gaze. “Who are you? You’re not her. You don’t belong here.”

“I think—“ Lofty began carefully, taking a cautious step towards the hooded figure. “I think I was sent here to meet you. By the mare in the moon. Do you know why?”

“No.” The figure looked up at the moon itself, the mouth of its hood turning towards the open window from its spot on the floor. “Maybe. I need to find her. It’s my fault she disappeared.”

“Is there something I can—“ Lofty corrected himself. “—we can do to help you?” Emberglow heard the empathy in his voice, the longing to resolve this creature’s distress, and she nodded. She felt the same.

“You can find her.” The figure gestured at the shop around them. For an instant, Emberglow thought she caught a glimpse of the pony’s hoof through the cloak it wore; it was far too skinny. “You have to find her!”

“But we don’t know who ‘she’ is,” Lofty reasoned. “Can’t you just give us a hint?”

“I can’t!” it wailed. “I don’t remember!” The figure jerked it’s head upright, the black, shadowy hood staring at them. “I don’t remember anything!” It surged to its hooves, and just then a stray breeze caught the hood of its cloak, pushing it back off the figure’s head. Underneath was a bare skull; no flesh, no fur, no mane, simply desiccated white bone, shining in the moonlight. Black, deep empty eye sockets glowed faintly with a hint of blue light, and atop the thing’s head was a severed stump, where a horn had once been attached. It was all too much for Emberglow; with a yelp of terror, she leaped out the open window, barely able to keep her hooves as she tumbled down to the cobblestones just below. The sharp sounds of hooves on stone told her Lofty was just behind.

The two fled in a panic, galloping as fast as they could from the nightmare pony they’d just seen.

“Did you see the stump?” Emberglow gasped, out of breath and barely staving off panic. Lofty nodded as the two dashed through the streets. “Whatever that was used to be a unicorn, Lofty. A unicorn!”

“I think it was just a ghost of some sort,” he shot back.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts!

“Then what do you call that?” Lofty almost shouted. “It was some sort of walking skeleton pony! I thought those sorts of things only existed in foal’s stories!”

Emberglow knew the kind of stories he was talking about; outlandish fantasies about Knights and other heroes fighting dire monsters in far-off lands. But despite their panicked reaction, the skeleton pony hadn’t felt threatening like the monsters in those stories. Just… sad. Sad, and scared, and helpless.

“I—”

“Stop where you are!” somepony shouted as the two squires were suddenly illuminated by a moving circle of light. Both ponies froze at the authoritative voice, trembling with exertion and not a little terror. There was a clatter of hooves on stone as the source of the light, a flashlight enchantment shining off the rune gauntlet of an armored Knight Mystic, moved closer. Emberglow felt her stomach sink. The stallion shone his light over the two, who flinched and squinted away from the bright light.

“Squires,” he sighed, sounding annoyed. “Of course it was squires.” He turned and called back to an unseen partner. “No need to sound the alarm, Quiescence. Just a pair of troublemakers sneaking out of the palace.” He turned a stern eye on the two, and Emberglow couldn’t help but shrink before him.

“Um—“ she began, but Lofty interrupted her.

“I’m sorry, sir, it was all my fault,” he said in a rush, glancing between Emberglow and the Mystic. The tall stallion raised an eyebrow. Emberglow stared at her friend. “My friend, here, was only coming to get me. It was a stupid dare, see. Some of the other squires in my dorm goaded me, and I let them.” His voice sank with shame.

“Oh?” The Mystic managed to sound both amused and stern, which made Emberglow feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe they wouldn’t be expelled, or jailed, or questioned by the intimidating inquisitors.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. My friend heard I was going, and she tried to stop me. Please don’t punish her, sir, just me.”

“Did you see anything out in the ruins?” he asked, leaning close to scrutinize Lofty. Lofty shook his head frantically.

“No sir,” he lied. “We thought we saw something a few times, but it was just a trick of moonlight and shadows, sir.” He injected his voice with just enough hopeful pleading that the Mystic laughed, a short, staccato chuckle. “Wasn’t it?”

“Yes, squire, that’s all it was. There are no ghosts in the ruins,” the Mystic said, rolling his eyes. “You two, follow me. Stay close, and do not wander off.” The Mystic turned, and the two squires fell into step right behind him, sharing nervous glances.

“Sir, what will—“

“Be silent, squire, unless I ask you questions. What is your name?”

“Lofty Tale, sir.”

“And you, mare?” The Mystic’s light enchantment swung over the ruins, sweeping in front of them to light any obstacles in their path.

“E-Emberglow, sir,” she stammered.

“Very well, Emberglow and Lofty Tale. A bet, you say? And your friend simply came to try and stop you?” He snorted. “Is this your first time sneaking outside the walls?”

“And last, sir,” Lofty said, his fearful eyes meeting Emberglow’s. The two shared a nod of agreement.

“And last,” the Mystic laughed harshly. “This is no place for foals, even foals that are almost Knights. Since you’ve been obedient, and you seem frightened enough, I think a warning may suffice this time. But!” he held up a hoof in warning, pausing and looking over his shoulder at the cringing squires. “I know your names, and if either one of you are caught in the city without permission again, the consequences will be severe!”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” Lofty nodded.

The Mystic escorted them back through the gates, remaining stern and silent the entire time. The knowing looks of annoyance they received from the other guards at the gate made Emberglow want to shrink inside herself and hide. Finally they were back inside the well-lit palace grounds.

“Do I need to escort you back to your beds?” the Mystic asked. Emberglow hoped he was just being dramatic.

“N-no, sir,” Emberglow stammered. “We’ll head straight there.”

“Good. I hope to never see you again,” he said finally, before turning back to the gate. With only a glance, Emberglow and Lofty scampered away.

“You lied for me,” she breathed. “You were going to claim fault for both of us.”

“You want to go back and confess the truth?” Lofty snorted. “I don’t know what would happen if we told him what really happened, but I don’t want to find out. Do you?” She shook her head. “I thought not.” He paused, looking Emberglow close in the eye. “I don’t think we should tell anypony anything that just happened, Emberglow. I kinda regret even telling Lady Mercy. Something tells me it could be bad.”

Emberglow nodded. She didn’t know what would happen, but it probably wouldn’t be good. She shuddered when she thought of interrogations by angry Knights Mystic, arrest, expulsion… quickly, she shoved those terrifying ideas out of her head.

Finally, the two split off towards their respective paths, pausing just long enough so that Emberglow could return Lofty’s rune gauntlet to him. Emberglow galloped the rest of the way to the Shrine of the Generous, only stopping right at the door to catch her breath. There was no ceremonial guard outside at this time of night, and Emberglow couldn’t see any lights on inside. Once her breathing had returned to a normal rate, she slipped inside, hoping nopony was awake that she would have to explain herself to.

As silently as she could, she crept upstairs to the room she shared with Astrolabe, carefully pushing the door open with one hoof and peeking inside. In the sliver of moonlight that their window let in, Emberglow could see the shadowy form of the other mare, asleep in her bed. Emberglow silently crept into her own bed, not even bothering to take off her robe for the night.

Emberglow wasn’t surprised that sleep proved elusive. For what felt like hours, her heart was still pounding with terror and adrenaline. What had that creature been? What was it doing here? Did the Mystics know about it? And why did it seem so sad and lonely? There was a part of Emberglow that even felt guilty for panicking and running away like that. She did her best to clear her mind, going through the deep breathing exercises that Lady Mercy Song had taught her. It took a long time, but finally she was able to clear her head and slip into sweet sleep.

Emberglow wasn’t surprised when the dream came. One moment she was laying on her mattress in the Shrine of the Generous, and the next she was laying on a bed made of clouds, looking up at the infinitely vast night sky. The stars twinkled in pinpricks of light that spilled over the canvas above her, like glitter scattered by a careless toddler. The moon seemed so much larger than it was supposed to, and the sky seemed almost too small for it.

“Please tell me what happened,” she said to the moon, then jerked a hoof to her mouth in shock. She’d just asked a question. Of one of the Diarchs. She should be terrified, shaking in her hooves. She should be on her stomach, grovelling in worship. Instead she’d demanded answers to her petty concerns.

The moon didn’t appear too affronted, however. She seemed to bounce a little in the air, making the night sky ripple and the stars swirl around it. Emberglow thought it felt faintly like somepony giggling softly. She suddenly felt a wash of comfort, like her mother tucking her into bed for the night.

“I’m sorry, Emberglow,” the voice floated down around her like a gentle ray of moonlight. “I wish I could have prepared you better.”

“You can hear me?” she wondered. The mare in the moon sometimes seemed to not understand or respond to her questions.

“Sometimes,” the voice said. “Not always. But sometimes I am stronger, and I can hear better.”

“That makes no sense,” Emberglow complained, and the moon bounced a bit again as the voice laughed.

“While you are in this place, I am stronger,” the voice explained, still tinkling slightly with amusement like bells echoing in the distance. “No matter who uses it now, this city used to be mine. If you sleep here, I can hear and respond, sometimes. I promise I will always respond when I can, Emberglow.” She heard a sigh, and the night seemed a little darker. “What you saw tonight was a very old friend of mine. Somepony who is lonely, afraid, and sad, and doesn’t even remember why she is that way, or how she got there.”

“Who is it?” Emberglow asked, eager and curious.

“Somepony who let her guilt outweigh her good sense, I’m afraid. She was obsessed with fixing a mistake, and used a terrifying, dire spell to do so. Now, all that is left is the pitiable, wretched creature you met. An immortal, perhaps, but one without any memories.” Emberglow looked up to see falling stars shooting across the sky, leaving streaks of light like the shimmering trails left behind by tears.

“Oh,” Emberglow whispered, feeling guilty. “We… Lofty and I ran, when we saw what she was. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, my little pony. I only wanted the two of you to meet her. Someday, perhaps, one of you will be back, to bring her redemption and rest.”

“Who was she?” Emberglow asked again.

“An old friend,” the voice said cryptically. “I owe her a great debt. She helped give me perspective, once. I was fighting with my beloved sister. I was… jealous, bitter, and angry. She helped us see things from each other’s perspectives. To… walk a mile in each other’s horseshoes, so to speak.” She sounded amused. “It took me many years to realize just how valuable that experience was for us.” The voice paused, as if waiting for something, and the silence that fell was pregnant with expectations.

Ember lay back on her cloud, watching the stars whirl playfully through the sky. This was all so much bigger than her, and she still didn’t understand so much. But she knew she had to help Her, if she could. “What do you want me to do, then?”

“I need you to remember this, Emberglow,” the voice whispered. The sky above stopped its whimsical dance, the stars settling back in their places as the voice became serious. “Remember what you saw, and what you heard. All of Equestria is hurting just like that mare is. We’ve forgotten what made us hurt in the first place. You’re a healer, Emberglow. A doctor. We need you to help heal our hurt.”

“I don’t…” Emberglow gasped, suddenly feeling like she was drowning. She didn’t quite understand what she was being asked to do, but it felt enormous. Somehow she was supposed to heal whatever was wrong with the entire nation? “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to yet,” the mare cooed soothingly. A warm breeze blew over her, gentle and calming. “You are just one pony, after all. But even long journeys begin with small steps. Finish your training. Become the healer you were always meant to be. Take your vows, but keep your eyes and ears open. Let your stalwart heart and your compassion be your guide, in all you do.”

When Emberglow woke the next morning, Astrolabe was sitting up in bed, staring at her forehooves and her rumpled bedsheets. She didn’t look up at Emberglow, but a twitch of her ears in Emberglow’s direction told her Astrolabe knew she was up.

“I’m sorry,” Astrolabe whispered. The apology still sounded reluctant, and Astrolabe’s hooves kneaded the bed, like an angry cat. “I’ll… t-try harder. To be n-nice.” Emberglow wondered if Lady Whispery had demanded the apology. She glanced over at the nightstand; the letter from Green Fields was back on top. It had been carefully smoothed out after Astrolabe had crumpled it to throw at her.

“Thank you,” Emberglow said. She was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry too.” It came out in a rush. “F-for what I said. About you always doing what Green Fields said.”

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” Astrolabe spat bitterly. “I’m just Green Fields’ little flunky, doing whatever she says.”

“I’m sure you’re more than that…”

“Spare me.” Astrolabe snorted. “Just go. Please? I-I can’t deal with this right now.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” Emberglow said as a farewell, quickly rounding up a change of clothes and her toiletries for the bathroom.

Once she was in the shower, she twisted the faucet and let the hot water pour over her face and mane. She tried to let the shower wash away the turmoil of her thoughts, but it wasn’t working. Her mind kept going over the creature she’d seen last night. Logically, she realized she should probably tell somepony. Maybe a Mystic, maybe Lady Whispery. But her heart said no. The creature had startled her when its hood fell back, but Emberglow couldn’t remember feeling any hostility or danger from the mystery creature.

Thinking of the skeleton creature made Emberglow think of what the mare in the moon had said about the mysterious figure, about walking in another pony’s hooves. Guiltily she recalled her own interactions with Astrolabe.

“It was just a dress,” she said out loud, cringing at the pain the words brought. Even telling the lie in a shower, alone, felt blasphemous. “She may have been nasty, but she’s matured since then. A little.” This felt more honest. “She’s scared, and misses her friend.” That bit she wasn’t sure about, but it sounded right. “Saint Rarity, help me please.” She wasn’t sure when her lonely shower monologue had become a prayer, but it felt appropriate. “I want to get along with my future Sister. I don’t want to hate her. Help me understand her, and maybe even forgive her.”

She stepped out of the shower, dressed, and trotted downstairs to the dining room, but when she entered the room, Astrolabe was not there yet. Lady Whispery was all alone, waiting with a plate full of pancakes. She motioned with one hoof, and Emberglow sat down in front of the pancakes, her heart pounding with nervous fear.

A lecture regarding the way she’d argued with Astrolabe was practically guaranteed. Given that Emberglow felt at least partially responsible for the fight escalating the way it did, she felt a sense of guilty dread at the approaching conversation.

Another thought occurred to her. What if Lady Whispery knew something about her sneaking out into the city? What if the nameless Mystic guard had passed on their names to their teachers? She had to suppress a shiver of horror.

“Please, just relax,” Lady Whispery said gently. It was impossible, but Emberglow did her best to pretend. She tried not to shake as she took a bite of breakfast. “I need to talk to you about yesterday.” Emberglow nodded. “Astrolabe told me a bit of your… hm… history together. About how she and her friend hurt you.”

“She… did?” Emberglow asked, rather surprised at the other mare’s honesty.

“I’m not going to judge what happened in the past, Emberglow.” Lady Whispery’s voice sounded tired. “As far as I’m concerned, each of you came to me with a completely clean slate. But you both came with baggage, didn’t you?” She sighed. “I want you two to find a way to get along. But I can’t risk this feud the two of you have driving you out of the Radiant. We need every single pony who’s willing to sign up. So I have to ask: do I have to find seperate rooms for the two of you? Separate training, seperate class time?”

There was a small, petty part of Emberglow that leapt at the idea. Giving up would hurt, but there was something to be said for the peace of mind she’d feel, not having daily reminders of her torment back at the Seminary. She’d have less distractions to completing her studies. But...

“No,” Emberglow said softly. “I can make it work. The fight last night was my fault. She was trying to apologize, and I… reacted poorly.”

“Hmm…” Lady Whispery mused, the hint of a smile on her face. “That’s not how Astrolabe paints the incident. She keeps the blame for herself, said she was being rude and halfhearted in her apology.”

“She… does?” Emberglow was once again surprised. Suddenly she wanted to talk to Astrolabe again. “I…”

“If you don’t need me to switch rooms for you, I’ll respect that.” Lady Whispery interrupted. She sounded pleased. “I expect no more screaming arguments, though. And no throwing things.”

Technically, only Astrolabe had thrown things, but Emberglow wasn’t about to correct the Knight. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“I’ll leave the situation for you two to handle. If you need me, though, I promise to be an impartial mediator. Please come to me before things get as bad as they did last night, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow replied, more enthusiastically this time. It felt good to have an adult show that much trust in her, to allow her to resolve her own problems. Perhaps it was because she and
Astrolabe were nearly adults, and Knights, themselves, but it was still nice to have her growing maturity acknowledged that way.

A few minutes later, Astrolabe wandered cautiously into the dining room. Lady Whispery rose, offering to put coffee on for the three of them and make a stack of pancakes for Astrolabe. It was clear she was giving them a moment to themselves.

Astrolabe sat at the table, her eyes darting between Emberglow and the door to the kitchen.

“I don’t like you,” she finally announced. Her voice was soft and bland, almost emotionless. It lacked the passion or anger Emberglow would have expected.

“I’ve never understood why,” Emberglow commented. Astrolabe snorted.

“You wouldn’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand how Green Fields could change her mind about you so quickly. It makes no sense. But” — she let out a sigh — “for her sake, I can keep the peace.” She rolled her eyes, glancing at Emberglow with a wry expression. “For real, this time.”

“You’re really loyal to her, aren’t you?” Emberglow asked. “It’s kinda surprising.”

“Thanks?” Astrolabe raised an eyebrow. Emberglow blushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that as an insult. I actually find it admirable. I… had a hard time making friends when I was younger.” She gave a weak laugh. “I still do.”

“I’m not going to be your friend,” Astrolabe blurted out, quickly enough to make Emberglow jerk a little.

“No, that’s not what I…”

“I know,” Astrolabe interrupted awkwardly. “This is difficult.”

“Can we start over?” Emberglow offered. “Like, from the beginning? Introduce ourselves, shake hooves, pretend we never met before this?” Astrolabe looked her up and down, and shook her head.

“You would offer that, wouldn’t you?” she said wryly. “How can you not hate me? We planned it together, you know. Messing up your dress. It was just luck that I was in the infirmary when it happened.”

“That makes sense,” Emberglow said. She ignored the surge of anger she felt at the confession. “I don’t want to hate you, Astrolabe. Hate is ugly and leaves a nasty taste in my mouth.”

“But the noble and perfect Emberglow does feel it, right?” Astrolabe’s voice was thick with sarcasm. Emberglow took a deep, calming breath and nodded.

“Yes. I h-hate you, Astrolabe. You and Green Fields tortured me for months. But I don’t want to hate you.”

“At least you can admit it,” Astrolabe said. She took her own deep, calming breath, then held out her hoof. “Start over. Okay. Let’s try it out.”

Dear Emberglow-

Sorry about the short letter. I’ve got very little time. It’s a good news/bad news situation.

The Northern Empire ambassador in Jubilation agreed to pass on letters to the Empire’s ‘Princess’! Finally, we have a line of communication to the leader herself! Things are looking up, and I owe it all to you and your help.

The bad news is, now that there’s a chance for success, my superiors have decided that somepony with a “more eloquent quill than mine” should take over the letter writing part of the diplomatic process. I’m being temporarily reassigned while letters are exchanged with the Empire. I’m disappointed, but they’re asking me to help with a team of Knights hunting pirates on the southeastern coast of the Diarchy. At least I won’t get bored.

Maybe I’ll see if you could get assigned down here once you swear your oaths. Could be fun! I might not be able to write for a while, so work hard and stay safe. The next time I see you will be at your assessment. IF YOU’RE PANICKING ABOUT YOUR ASSESSMENT I ORDER YOU TO STOP IT NOW! You’ll be just fine.

Saints bless and keep you,

Lady Turquoise

Emberglow reread the letter with a smile as she imagined Lady Turquoise on a sailing ship. She wondered, idly, how the Knight would handle life on the seas.

It had been six months since Emberglow had said goodbye to Lady Turquoise, and it had passed like a dream. Unlike graduation day at the Ivy Seminary, the time the squires spent in Old Canterlot would not end with a big ceremony with everypony attending. The squires had assessments scheduled, where they would sit in front of a panel designed to determine if they had met the requirements for Knighthood. Emberglow was nervous, even though Lady Whispery (who was doing just fine on near-total bed rest) and Lady Turquoise, nearly six months ago, had assured her it was nothing to be concerned about.

The assessment took place in the council room where the Council of Five, the leading body of Knights, usually met. The whole process was to take more than two days as each squire was called in individually and assessed. When the day arrived, a trainload of Knights from the city arrived at old Canterlot. They were the Knights who had mentored each of the young squires, here to participate in their assessment. Emberglow spotted Lady Turquoise in the gaggle of rainbow colored robes and waved, but the Knight was too engrossed in a conversation with another pink-robed Jubilant to notice. The Knights disappeared into the palace building itself, leaving the squires in a state of nervous excitement regarding their upcoming transition to full Knighthood.

Just like all the other squires, Emberglow was ready. She’d been preparing for this moment for more than six years; three in medical school, followed by three years in Knight training. She was ready to move on to her Knighthood, to serve Saint Rarity as one of her sworn children.

The squires spent the day of assessment in the palace’s large dining hall. After six months, the awe and wonder of the place had worn off for some, but not for Emberglow. As she watched her fellow squires socialize and relax with each other, part of her wanted to chastise them.

“Familiarity indeed breeds contempt,” she muttered the adage. The squires were all together, so she was standing near Lofty, who overheard her comment.

“What do you mean?” he asked, and she laughed self-consciously.

“This place. We’ve only been here six months, and already we’re laughing and joking. Eating snacks and reading books and sparring. I get that we’re bored, but this place…” she waved a hoof in a wide arch. “This is where the Saints walked, Lofty. The Diarchs.” She pointed at a pair of squires over in the corner, a mare and a stallion who were cuddling and giggling as they flirted. She motioned to another group who were laughing raucously at some joke.

“I get you,” Lofty said. “But what would you do about it? We can’t all be as holy as you, Emberglow.” The last was meant teasingly, but it pricked Emberglow with guilt. Maybe she was being too prideful, too judgmental.

“You’re probably right,” she sighed. “I’m going to find a quiet corner or something to read. Or write in my journal. Or I don’t know. I’m finding it hard to concentrate.”

“You and me both, Emberglow,” Lofty said. “I can’t help but be terrified that I’m going to walk into my assessment and have laid bare every single weakness, every single failing, every imperfection, and have it paraded before me, before finally being driven out of Canterlot Palace with a mob of angry Knights on my hooves.” Emberglow laughed at the extreme scenario, but a small part within her was afraid of exactly the same thing, no matter how irrational it seemed. “At least you get to go before me. They’re going in alphabetical order.”

Emberglow had noticed. Astrolabe’s assessment had come and gone a few minutes ago. The other mare had left the palace with a satisfied smirk on her face, so her assessment had to have gone well. She did pause on her way out of the palace long enough to give Emberglow a polite nod. While things were still tense between them, Astrolabe and Emberglow had established a sort of detached, professional politeness in the past few months that was a huge improvement on anything that had come before.

Every few minutes an armor-wearing Mystic stallion would enter the hall and loudly call another name. Finally, the Mystic called out for Emberglow. Her heart was pounding, thumping in her ears as she followed after the stoic, purple-armored figure. Quickly they walked down empty hallways before finally reaching a pair of huge double doors that reached high into the ceiling.

“These are the chambers of the Council of Five,” the Mystic said to Emberglow, then paused. “It used to be their throne room.” His voice was full of wonder and reverence. There was no question who ‘they’ were. Emberglow stared at the doors. “Go on in.”

“I’m… afraid to touch the doors,” she whispered, starting at her own voice. The Mystic stallion smiled indulgently.

“It’s just fine. They’re waiting for you.”

Hesitantly, Emberglow reached out and laid a hoof on the door. She pushed, and the door swung open slowly. The room was vast, and well lit, with two empty thrones on the far end. The thrones were white and dark blue, respectively. The rest of the room was taken up by a large, oval table with five chairs. One was at the head of the table, just in front of the empty thrones.

In each of the five seats was a pony. Emberglow recognized two of them, Lady Whispery of the Radiant and Lady Turquoise of the Jubilant. Lady Whispery’s chair was different from the others; it reclined, and was covered with soft, velvet pillows. Also sitting at the table was a Knight from each of the other orders. With the exception of Lady Whispery in her robes, the Knights all wore their armor, each one clean and polished and resplendent in the colors of the Saints. The Mystic was young, a stallion with grey eyes and a short cut orange mane. The Adamant was a mare, middle aged and wearing a rainbow-colored patch over one eye. The Vigilant was an ancient stallion. There was a pile of documents spread out in front of each of the Knights.

“We are here to consider the candidacy of Squire Emberglow,” the Mystic intoned, reading off a sheet he held in front of him. “Squire, we have reviewed your paperwork and you have completed your training as a Knight. We’ll begin with your mentor Knight. Lady Turquoise, what say you to this mare joining our ranks?”

“Squire Emberglow is intelligent, resourceful, and strong. She is honest and faithful. During our time together, I found no fault that would keep her from being an asset to us.” Lady Turquoise’s voice was confident and sure, and she smiled at Emberglow as she spoke. Emberglow smiled back, touched.

“Very well. Squire Emberglow, you have proclaimed your intent to join yourself with the Knights Radiant. Lady Whispery, what say the Radiant to this squire joining your ranks?”

“We would be pleased, and proud, to have this mare among us,” Lady Whispery said. “She is talented and brave. The Radiant see no reason why she should not join.”

“Thank you, Lady Whispery,” the Mystic said. “Are there any objections from the other Orders?” The ancient stallion from the Vigilant raised a hoof, and the Mystic motioned for him to proceed.

“Squire Emberglow,” he said, his voice trembling with age. “I read in your history that you spent a great deal of time meeting with a counselor, a therapist, during your time at the Ivy Seminary. Can you elaborate on the circumstances of this, and perhaps explain why we should advance a squire to Knighthood if she displays mental deficiencies?”

Emberglow’s breath caught in her throat. Both Lady Whispery and Lady Turquoise looked at her, their expressions worried and surprised. Emberglow tried to inhale, to get enough breath to speak. What was she supposed to say? What did he want to hear? Nearly paralyzed by fear, she panicked, opening her mouth and beginning to speak. The unadorned truth spilled out.

“I was bullied at the Seminary, because I’m a sponsorship,” she stammered. “It was intense. More than I was prepared for. I ignored them for nearly the entire time. Almost once a week they would break into my room and vandalize my possessions. I had resolved to suffer in silence, and not say anything to anypony. Finally the torment culminated in the destruction of… of…” There was a hitch in her throat, and she struggled to push the words out. “Of something very precious to me. But friends and instructors intervened. One of the students got expelled, and my instructors insisted I speak to a counselor about what had happened, Lady Mercy Song of the Radiant. She said I had been traumatized.” She glanced from face to face at the table watching the eyes and faces of the various Knights. The two who knew her looked worried, the Mystic politely curious, and the Adamant looked bored. The Vigilant, the one who had challenged her, was impossible to read. “I struggled, but I’m here right now.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“The greatest of us did not reach greatness because we experienced nothing but clear skies and smooth sailing,” the aged stallion intoned sagely. “We were battered by storms and by waves, and we’re all the stronger for it. The strong meet their trials with courage. The wise know when to seek help from their allies. You have learned both lessons. I have no objections.” The Mystic opened his mouth to speak, but the Vigilant held up his hoof. “On a personal note, I should like to apologize for the harm caused by my great granddaughter. Her expulsion has been a trial, but she has weathered it admirably, and has learned from her mistakes. You have my apology, and my thanks.”

“You’re…” Emberglow began, but then closed her mouth when the Mystic cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Sir Fields. Any other objections?” He looked at the Adamant mare, but she shook her head. “Very well. Squire Emberglow, we find you worthy to join our number. Please repeat for us the Oath of the Squire.” Emberglow nervously cleared her throat.

“I am a Knight of Equestria. I uphold the Five Exalted Tenants with my life. I protect my fellow Knights from harm. I hold close to my heart the Elements of Harmony: Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, and Joy. I serve the Diarchy, its leaders and its citizens. I keep watch against heresy and corruption. I defend Equestria from enemies outside and within, with my life and breath.”

“Thank you, squire. Lady Whispery, I remit her to your care,” the Mystic finished. Lady Whispery stood slowly, grunting a bit with discomfort. Hurriedly Emberglow rushed over to her side to offer a hoof.

“You okay, ma’am?” Emberglow asked, and Lady Whispery rolled her eyes.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Squire, I’m not as fragile as I look. C’mon, we’re due back at the Shrine for the remainder of your ceremony and assessment.”

“There’s more?” Emberglow asked, and Lady Whispery nodded silently. Emberglow tried to stay close to the Knight without appearing to hover. Regardless of what she said, the pregnant mare could really go into labor at any moment. As a healer, Emberglow felt a duty to be ready to help however and whenever she could. The Knight, however, was silent until they reached the Shrine of the Generous.

To be honest, Emberglow was confused. The assessment had been much easier than she’d built up in her own head, despite being challenged a bit on her mental health. Now, after weeks of anxiety, it was all suddenly over except for whatever mystery would be taking place in the Shrine. She felt an odd sense of both relief and emptiness.

Soon enough they were at the door to the Shrine, and Lady Whispery ushered them inside. Once the door was closed and locked, Lady Whispery spoke again.

“There is one last truth we would share with you before you become our sister, Emberglow. You are commanded to keep this secret, never to speak of it or reveal it to anypony else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said, hushed into reverence by the serious tone in the Knight’s voice.

“You have been taught that sometimes the truth of the Book is not always the same as the truth of history. You hopefully have the wisdom to realize this is no contradiction, though weaker minds would lose their faith and fall away. You also know that only the Diarchs are perfect, incapable of sin or error. So it stands to reason that the Saints were imperfect.”

“Yes,” Emberglow admitted. It may have been logically accurate, but it was sinful in the extreme to even think about. The two of them moved into the parlor, where the couches and cushions had been moved aside, leaving a blank, carpeted floor. Lady Whispery reached out with her rune gauntlet, tracing a complicated pattern of runes in the air. The runes glowed in the air, and a corresponding glow lit up in the floor, shaped like a circle roughly two ponies across. Lady Whispery stepped back, motioning Emberglow back so that neither of them were in the circle. It shined, filling the room with a warm orange glow. Finally a section of carpet on the floor disappeared to reveal a spiral staircase crafted of stone. Glowing runes, the same orange as the one on the floor, illuminated the path downwards.

“Come,” Lady Whispery said softly. “Come and learn of Lady Rarity’s sins.” Emberglow’s mouth went dry. “We remember, not to tear down what she was, but to learn and grow closer to her perfection.” They began down the staircase, Emberglow followed close behind.

“The Book of the Saints is not the only document that survived from the Dark Times,” Lady Whispery began. “Though the remaining texts do agree that Lady Rarity was kind and beautiful, pure and generous, they also speak of a mare with faults. With difficulties. Lady Rarity could be vain. She could be cruel, and she could be greedy. You will not find these facts or these stories in the Book of the Saints, but they are truth. None of these, however, are her greatest fault.”

At the bottom of the stairs was a small chamber, with featureless stone walls and floors. There was no furniture except for a narrow plinth, only three hooves square, rising up to eye level for most ponies. Something spherical rested on the plinth, covered in a white cloth. Surrounding the plinth were the other Knights Radiant staying at the Shrine of the Generous. They remained silent as Lady Whispery continued to speak, though their faces were full of joy and pride as they looked at Emberglow.

“Lady Rarity’s greatest strength, her generous spirit, was also her greatest weakness. Her willingness to see the best in others sometimes blinded her to their faults. She loved without condition and without judgement. When she should have remained vigilant against corruption, she instead made allowances, compromise, and acceptance. This is our challenge. To show compassion without compromise. To love the sinner, but not the sin. The Radiant draws those who share our Saint’s weaknesses, so her struggles become ours.” Lady Whispery moved to stand right next to the plinth. She motioned to the object covered by the cloth.

“This is the last remaining piece of physical evidence of Lady Rarity’s greatest failure. Like all of the Saints, she was aware of the danger unicorns posed. But she failed to act when it mattered most. You see, Lady Rarity’s little sister Sweetie Belle, who she loved dearly, was a unicorn.”

Emberglow’s breath caught in her throat as Lady Whispery slid the cloth off the plinth, revealing a crystal clear spherical orb. Frozen inside was a single unicorn’s horn, cut cleanly at the base. Emberglow gasped. Besides her presence at her brother’s birth, she’d never seen a unicorn’s horn before, and certainly never one that was full grown. It was small, perhaps only a few inches longer than her hoof was wide. Spiraled grooves ran up the horn towards the tip. The appendage itself was a soft purplish pink color. Emberglow was holding her breath.

“This is Sweetie Belle’s horn,” Lady Whispery intoned. “It retains some magic still. It is the most important relic of our order, both a holy connection to Saint Rarity herself and a profane reminder of her sin. We use it very rarely, for it is dangerous.”

“What does it do?” Emberglow whispered, wincing as her own voice echoed in the strange room.

“It is an oracle. We bring new Knights here, to swear their oaths to Lady Rarity and to catch a glimpse of their future. You will experience two visions. One is the same vision we all share. The Day of Hope. The second will be personal, private to you. You are not to share it with anypony.”

“What do I do?” Emberglow asked.

“We here will swear you to our Order, then you will touch the orb. After you have had your vision, we will provide you with the infusion that changes you from an average mortal into a Knight. Your visions will give you strength to withstand your ordeal. Are you ready?

“Okay.” Emberglow gulped, her heart pounding. “I’m ready.”

“Good. Repeat after me. ‘I give my life to the service of Saint Rarity. I walk in her hoofsteps’,” Lady Whispery paused after each phrase, giving Emberglow a chance to speak the words out loud. With each phrase Emberglow spoke, the horn within the orb began to glow with a faint cyan color. Each phrase made the glow brighter, until the entire orb shone.

“I will go where I am needed, and bring healing and light. I will give of my gifts freely, and take no payment, living in holy poverty. I will keep myself untouched, and take no mate nor raise up children. All that I am, all that I have, belongs to the Diarchy and my fellow ponies. My oath is for life.”

As Emberglow finished the oath, the horn within the orb was glowing bright enough to drown out the orange light of the runes on the walls. Emberglow couldn’t take her eyes off the magical glow.

“You are ready. Reach out and see your future.”

Emberglow reached out, mesmerized by the glow. Her hoof brushed up against the crystal of the orb. It was cool to the touch; somehow she’d expected warmth. The blue glow of the horn overtook her entire vision, seeping in at the periphery until all she could see was blue. She couldn’t feel her hooves or her wings any longer; it was as if she were floating in a sea of blue fluff.

“Another pony comes begging for wisdom,” a whispering voice slithered into her mind, slipping between her thoughts and insinuating itself into her brain. “Another neophyte unprepared for the truth.”

“I… what?” Emberglow said. Her voice was muffled, and her thoughts were cloudy.

“Are you the one, little pony?” the voice demanded. The blue light cleared, showing a night sky full of stars. Six bright lights, spread equidistant from each other, grew in brightness in the sky, surrounding the moon. Each one was a different color; pink, red, blue, orange, purple, and magenta. They looked like crystals, and they glowed with magical brilliance. Suddenly the pink crystal disappeared from the others, firing like a shooting star towards Emberglow, while the magenta gem began to shine ever brighter. There was something baleful about the light. “Six there were, now five remains. One rules from the shadows, the others follow blindly. Hope is lost, but the lost can be found. The Sleeper will awaken at the hooves of her children. The Generous will find the lost and restore Hope to Equestria.” The blue light flowed in once again, blocking out the vision.

“But what of you? Oh, what a fascinating aura,” the voice said, and Emberglow wanted to squirm. There was something deeply uncomfortable about the way she felt scrutinized. Once again the blue light cleared away, and Emberglow could see a second vision. Suddenly she could feel air under her wings. She was flying. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was. There were only clouds. She swooped down, trying to land on the clouds below her. At least then she’d be able to poke her head through the white fluff and see what land lay below. As soon as she descended, however, the clouds parted. Below was a tall mountain, beset on all sides by a vicious storm. One of the gems from her vision before, glowing with orange light, sat atop the mountain. “Can you do it? Can you brave the storm? You are the one, if you choose it. You may even find a richness you never thought possible. Stay true, Emberglow. Stay true…”

Suddenly she was falling, tumbling helplessly through the air as she screamed in terror. The orange light from the gem disappeared, and the mountain gaped open underneath her, swallowing her until everything was pitch black. Cold seeped into her bones; a nightmarish, agonizing, biting chill that sucked away her strength and made her limbs stiff. As she fell, she saw a light. It was a baleful, cold blue, and it grew as Emberglow fell towards it.

The coldly glowing figure was shaped like a pony, but not; its muzzle was longer, and it was taller. It’s hooves were bound in chains that faded off into the darkness underneath it, where Emberglow could hear the metallic clanging of some infernal machine.

Suddenly Emberglow’s free-fall came to a halt, and the figure lunged at her, it’s maw full of frozen, icicle-like fangs. They snapped closed right in front of her, and she flinched back in terror.

“Set us loose,” the creature demanded. It spoke with the voice of a thousand whispers, a harsh, dead wind that blew Emberglow back even as it oozed into her ears like ice water. “Set us loose so we can rend you and freeze you and consume you. We will eat you frozen flesh and trample your cities to dust. Set us loose so it can begin.”

“This one is not yours to harm, monster,” a reply thundered through the darkness. Emberglow recognized the voice of the mare in the moon, from her dreams. Was the vision a dream? “She’s made for bigger things…” the voice faded, the creature faded from view, and the blue light filled her eyes again.

Emberglow blinked. The vision was gone. The glow was gone. She lay, crumpled at the bottom of the plinth, while the various Knights Radiant gathered about, watching her carefully.

“Was it… what did I see?” she rasped. Her throat was sore.

“Everypony sees the vision of the gems. ‘The Generous will restore Hope to Equestria’,” Lady Whispery quoted. “The other vision is private. It is not to be shared.” Emberglow nodded, shakily. It wasn’t as if she understood what it meant anyways. “Can you stand?” Emberglow nodded again, rising to her hooves. Two of the other Knights lifted the white cloth back over the orb. A third approached, clutching a small vial in one hoof. “Are you ready for the next step?” Emberglow eyed the vial. The liquid inside was pitch black, with glinting sparkles inside. It looked as if somepony had sprinkled tar with glitter.

“I-I am ready,” Emberglow said shakily, wondering if it were true. She was still thinking of what the voice in her vision had said. What did it mean? What storm was she being warned of? She was the one? She had no time to think more, because the Knight had removed the seal from the top of the glass vial and passed it to Emberglow. Emberglow took it, looking inside. She took a sniff; it smelled musty, like stale bread.

“This holy infusion will fill you with more magic than you have ever experienced,” Lady Whispery said. “It will propel you to physical heights you could not attain on your own. It is permanent. You will be as strong as an unenhanced earth pony, and you will be faster and more enduring than any normal pegasus. The process will be very painful. Some ponies report hearing voices, or seeing images. Pay them no mind; nopony has ever been able to discern a significance to them. Keep your mind on your faith, on Lady Rarity, and on your goals, and you will endure this trial and be all the stronger for it. When you are ready, drink.”

Emberglow didn’t hesitate for a second. Her heart pounded with fear, but in this small, frightening looking vial was everything she’d wanted since she was a foal. This was it. Knighthood. The way she was meant to serve the Diarchy, and Lady Rarity. Maybe this was the storm her vision had warned her of. She upended the bottle and poured the surprisingly fluid potion into her lips. The black substance rolled over her tongue. It tasted vile, of dust and grit and chalk. She had to force herself to swallow, feeling the gritty texture off the potion slipping down her throat.

“Fearless, ain’t ya?” she heard one of the other Knights say, as if from a great distance. Suddenly she realized there was a roaring in her ears, a stuffiness in her hearing and in her head. “It’s okay. Sit down a bit. Lay down if you need to.”

“How long?” Emberglow breathed out, her voice coming in a pained rasp. Her head was beginning to pound, a sharp pain radiating from the center of her forehead. She heard screaming, pained, short gasps of pain and fear. They might have been coming from her. She felt wet all over, as if she'd been dunked in liquid from head to hoof. Suddenly even the gentle orange light was too bright, and she clenched her eyes shut.

“It always seems longer for the pony who’s going through it,” Lady Whispery answered. Emberglow wanted to protest; Lady Whispery hadn’t really answered the question. But the pain had spread now, beginning in her head but pushing its way through her entire body, making speech impossible. Her muscles ached, her bones ached, even her feathers were twitching with sharp tinges of agony. She tried to open her eyes for a brief second, only to be overwhelmed by the brightness. Soon even sound became too much as her senses were overloaded. Desperately she pawed at her ears with her front hooves, trying to shove them shut. The clatter of the glass vial on the stone floor from her hooves sounded like a gong crashing in her ears. She was fairly sure she was whimpering and crying.

Then the voices began, first simple muttering, whispers she couldn’t understand. They grew in volume, a hundred thousand voices overlapping in her head, each one a cacophony of emotion. Anger, terror, pain, but also laughter and ecstasy and embarrassment, every emotion possible running through her ears, and through her head. The pain spiked, and it felt like somepony was driving a spike into her head, just above her eyes.

For a brief moment, there was nothing but pain and sensation. The light reached through her eyelids, the sounds reached through her blocking hooves, and the pain permeated every pore, every capillary, every joint, and even the marrow of her bones.

And then there was nothing. Silence. Blackness. Once again Emberglow was herself; just a poor, tired, aching mare, gasping and whimpering and frothing with sweat on the stone floor of the room. Slowly she lowered her hooves. Somepony was speaking. A gentle voice.

“Mom?” she whimpered, before her brain caught up with where she was and what she was doing. “Lady… Whispery?”

“Emberglow? How do you feel?”

“Uh...” she moaned, letting her eyes slip open just a hair. She could see the Knights all gathered around her now. One of them, probably Lady Whispery, was patiently and gently rubbing the sweat out of her eyes, and off her limbs. The pain was sluicing from her limbs, disappearing just as suddenly as it had come. In an instant, she realized that she felt the difference. She felt the strength in her limbs, and in her wings. Shakily, she stumbled to her feet.

“Yes, that’s how I felt. Kneel, Emberglow,” Lady Whispery ordered. Emberglow complied, rising just enough that she was kneeling on one foreleg. Lady Whispery was carrying a spear, and with the flat part of the blade, reached out and gently touched the center of Emberglow’s forehead. Through her weariness, her heart overflowed with pride and joy. “It is with honor that I proclaim you Lady Emberglow. It is with pleasure that I call you sister. You are one of us now, bound to our sisterhood forever.”

Author's Notes:

I know I've said I don't like author's notes, but this one is absolutely necessary.

This chapter was a nightmare (and not the fun kind that turns into best princess when you zap it with rainbow lasers). It is now beautiful and amazing and I owe it all to my miracle worker of an editor, Cyonix. He even wrote parts of the dream sequence late in the chapter. Thank you so much, my friend. You are an absolute gem.

Chapter 11

Excerpt from the Book of the Saints, Chapter Eleven, Verses 1 through 13

1- On the day that Saint Rarity the Generous was informed of the horrible plight of the ponies of Manehatten, she decided upon action.

2- She would travel to the city and bless its inhabitants, covering the shame of their nudity with clothing of her own make.

3-For days she labored, crafting a hundred dresses. The other Saints wept at her generosity, and decided to help. Together they crafted a hundred more.

4- But evil was at work in Manehatten. The unicorn Suri Polomare, jealous of Saint Rarity’s holiness and desiring her downfall, conspired with her servant the unicorn Coco Pommel to sabotage the Saint’s gift.

5- Saint Rarity traveled to Manehatten, and with a gift of funds from Saint Pinkamena, contracted a mare, named Prim Hemline, to distribute her gift to all of Manehatten.

6- But Suri used her poisoned words and dark magic to deceive Prim, turning her against the Saint. When Saint Rarity went to plead with Prim to resume their work, the servant Coco crept into the room where the dresses were kept, and burned them with her vile magics.

7- Saint Rarity returned in failure, head hung low. When she saw the ashes of her gift, her tears flowed freely, dripping from her face to the ashy floor. Wherever a tear landed, a fibrous plant sprung up.

8- On each stem grew a dress or suit, more fantastic than the hoof made ones from before.

9- Your generosity and your tears have made a miracle, the other Saints cried, shedding their tears alongside Saint Rarity’s example.

10- When the evil Coco saw the miracle, she wept, her stony heart cracked by the soft heart of Saint Rarity. She lamented her guilt, and bowed down before Saint Rarity, begging the holy mare to take pity on her, and end her life as she deserved.

11- But Saint Rarity took mercy on the mare; rather than take her life, Saint Rarity only took her horn.

12- Now you may live your life free of the evil of your magic, Saint Rarity said. Go, and sin against ponies no longer. So Coco, safely hornless, followed after Saint Rarity, blessing her with word and song.

13- But Suri Polomare was never heard from again.

1112 AF, New Canterlot City

Emberglow couldn’t help but strut a little in her white robes. It was her first posting, and though she had received her very own set of armor, it didn’t quite make sense to wear it in public if she was just on her way to the airship docks. She could still wear her official Knight uniform, however, and she did so proudly. The linen, dyed a brilliant white, practically sparkled in the morning sun, and the embroidered cutie mark of Saint Rarity herself (not Saint, but Lady, she reminded herself) stood out on the robes’ flank like three blue badges of the highest honor. On her back was a brand new pair of saddlebags, also marked with her Lady’s cutie mark, and packed full of her personal effects: some smallclothes, her journal and pens, and her personal copy of the Book of the Saints. Emberglow felt amazing, though she tried to reign in her pride a little. Pride led to arrogance, which always hid sin, as the Saints themselves had said.

The airship dock was on the south side of town. It was called a dock, but in actual fact it was more accurately a collection of warehouses and office buildings built into large tree-like structures reaching high into the sky, ready to receive the dozens of airships that came in every day from all over the Diarchy, carrying goods and ponies from far away. It was always busy; hundreds of ponies moved about quickly, some hauling freight, some on their way to jobs, and others, like Emberglow, there to catch a flight to elsewhere. It was bustling, but Emberglow noticed that her official robes provided a small calm around her. Nopony ignored her; they gave her space, and most afforded her at least a polite nod or deferential greeting. She knew she wouldn’t have time for pleasantries, but she tried to have a friendly smile on her face for each pony that looked her way.

There was one pair of ponies among the crowd she was keeping a particular eye out for, however, and the constant crowd of ponies was making it difficult to search. She nearly took to the air to look for them, but heard a familiar voice shouting before she could spread her wings.

“Lady Emberglow! Lady Emberglow! Over here!” came her mother’s voice. Emberglow looked over to where her parents stood, right in front of Airship Dock C. Her mother was enthusiastically waving a sign, which was clearly hoof-painted and made of cardboard, that read ‘Good Luck Lady Emberglow, SAINTS BLESS’ on it. Her father was standing next to her and had the sense to look mildly embarrassed at his wife’s antics. Emberglow waved at them, thought for a moment, and lifted off, floating above the crowd and over to where her parents were waiting. The crowd below parted for her landing, with a few odd 'pardon me, my Lady’s’.

“Lady Emberglow!” Needle Point gushed, dropping the sign to the ground and hugging her daughter tightly.

“Mom… I’m your daughter. I’m pretty sure you don’t have to call me ‘lady’.”

“Nonsense. We’re in public. It’s only proper. Besides, if you were half as proud of the title you earned as I am, you’d say it too,” her mother responded. Emberglow laughed.

“I’d just miss it if you never called me ‘sweetie’ again.” She pouted at her mother. Needle Point giggled.

“Well, if you insist then, Lady Sweetie,” Needle Point said, and all three of the ponies laughed. “What? The proper forms must be seen to, at least in public.”

“It’s only been a month since your Knighting,” Textile commented, before his wife could further embarrass their daughter. “They sure didn’t give you much time between then and your first assignment.”

Emberglow shook her head. “No, they didn’t. The need is pretty dire, though.”

“Your letter said as much. You’re going off to hunt pirates?” He seemed to be holding back an amused grin at the idea.

“It does sound like something out of a foal’s adventure tale, doesn’t it?” Emberglow smiled. “But yeah. The regular navy has been having problems tracking down a zebra captain terrorizing merchants in the seas southeast of Klugetown, so they’re calling in a specialized group. I’m going to be with some elite regular army ponies, as well as three other Knights. Steadfast told me it would be a pretty easy assignment for me to get some combat experience.” She nearly forgot that she no longer had to refer to him as ‘Sir’.

“And who are these other Knights you’ll be working with?” Textile asked.

“I’ve only met one of them, Lady Turquoise. The other two are Knights Adamant.”

“Oh, the Knight Jubilant you squired for.” Needle point nodded. “Such a nice mare. I must admit, it makes me feel less nervous that you’ll know at least one pony in… whatever is the name of the border town you’re going to be in?”

“Port Luminescence. It’s a grandiose name, if you ask me,” Emberglow said. “Turquoise has been there nearly a month now, so I’ll be meeting her in the Port. I was told I might meet one of the Knights Adamant on the airship, but I don’t see anypony in robes or armor, so maybe he or she is taking a later flight.”

“Speaking of armor, where is yours, Lady Sweetie?” her mother asked with a grin.

“Packed in a crate on board. These robes are so much easier to move in, and I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself,” Emberglow said. Her parents smiled indulgently.

“Not draw too much attention? Didn’t you see the crowd parting around you? You already draw lots of attention, my gorgeous, proud, amazing daughter,” Needle Point gushed, her eyes getting misty. “And I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, so you could go off on your first mission without worrying about your silly mother and now I’m failing you and I’m terrible and…” Emberglow was laughing as she wrapped her sobbing mother in a tight hug, smooshing Needle Point’s face against her shoulder as the older mare wept tears of pride and worry.

“Mom, I love you so much.” She laughed as she felt tears in her own eyes, as well. Textile was grinning too, but Emberglow heard him try to sniff sneakily. “I’ll be fine. You cry all you want. I’ll write as often as I can.”

“You’d better, Lady Sweetie,” Needle Point sniffled into the linen of her daughter’s robes. Emberglow released her mother to hug her father goodbye as well. “And be safe. And remember to brush your teeth, and if…”

“Mom. I’ll be fine. I have to go get on the airship now, okay?” Her mother ignored her, and as soon as Emberglow let go of Textile, Needle Point grabbed her in another hug, nuzzling her face into Emberglow’s shoulder again. “Um, mom? The airship is leaving soon. Mom?”

Emberglow somehow managed to extract herself from the teary mare. Needle Point reached down and picked up her abandoned sign, waving it frantically as Emberglow entered the building that housed Airship Dock C.

The airship dock was a large pillar, with several wooden platforms extending off open doorways on the sides for floating ships to tie to. Cargo ships used the lower entrances, which were all connected to two large freight elevators. There was a spiral staircase in the center of the building, going through all the floors, and a passenger elevator for those heading towards the higher airship docks. Emberglow moved towards the elevator, stepping aside politely as an older pegasus couple was about to board.

“Oh no, after you, Lady Knight,” the stallion said with a bow.

“No, there’s plenty of room for three. Come on, you two,” Emberglow said, ushering the couple onto the elevator with her. “Besides, I’m basically a Knight in name only. I only swore my oaths a month ago. On my way to my first assignment.”

“Your first assignment, eh?” the stallion said, while his companion merely smiled shyly. He pushed the button labeled ‘5’, and the elevator began to rise. “Which floor?” he asked politely.

“Floor seven, please.” He pushed the button for her floor, and she nodded her thanks. “I’ve been stationed in Port Luminescence. I’m support for a team that’s going to be hunting zebra pirates,” Emberglow said proudly. The old stallion nodded.

“I wasn’t navy, but air recon for the army,” the old stallion said. “We loved it whenever there were Knights Radiant nearby. It meant more ponies came back alive. Saints bless you for what you’re doing.” The elevator dinged, and the doors opened on floor five. The two older pegasi shuffled out, the mare calling out shakily, “Saint Rarity keep you safe!” as the doors closed.

Emberglow smiled and waved. The elevator resumed its upward motion, and dinged one more time on floor seven. Several ponies were ready to move into the elevator as soon as it opened, but surprised and deferential expressions quickly filled their faces as they waited for Emberglow to disembark first. It all felt a little surreal.

Floor seven had three exits, leading to fenced wooden boardwalks that extended outside of the building. Only one held an airship — Dock 7-β, according to sign above the exit. A flight attendant waited at the entrance to the boardwalk. Emberglow walked over, and the flight attendant, an earth pony dressed in airship crew uniform, perked up with a customer service smile as Emberglow approached.

“Lady Emberglow, welcome! You may board The Lost Lamb as soon as you like. I have been assured that your armor is in a crate safely onboard. Your…” the stallion’s voice hesitated for just a moment, almost imperceptibly. “…travelling companion is already onboard in your shared cabin. Have you traveled by airship before, my Lady?”

“I haven’t, no.” Emberglow shook her head.

“Please be aware that some passengers, even Knights and pegasi, might experience motion sickness while travelling on board an airship. Should you feel ill, please inform an attendant. There are treatments for airsickness…”

“I know all about them, thank you,” Emberglow said. “Can you tell me where to find my cabin?”

“Of course, my lady. You are in cabin 1-C. Please go down the gangplank, onto the ship, and take the first set of stairs off the deck down into the passenger area. 1-C will be the second door on your right. Would you like me to summon an attendant to show you the way?”

“No thanks. I should be fine,” Emberglow said.

“Then I wish you a pleasant flight, Lady Emberglow.” He bowed to her as he finished speaking.

She was already walking down the boardwalk as soon as the attendant finished his farewell. She saw a few other earth ponies in the process of boarding the airship, and she wondered briefly what it might be like to be afraid of heights. Still, even though they were clearly nervous of the long drop on either side of the fenced boardwalk, the various earth ponies tried to move out of her way to allow her to go first. Emberglow grinned; they needn’t have worried. As soon as she was clear of the building and on the open boardwalk, she spread her wings and flew onto the deck of the airship itself, bypassing all the waiting ponies.

The door to her cabin was marked with a metal plate with ‘1-C’ engraved onto it. She briefly thought about knocking, but it was her cabin too, wasn’t it? Shaking her head, she reached out and turned the handle, pulling the door open.

The first thing she heard was the snoring. Loud, ripping chainsaw-like noises came from a cream-colored mare sprawled on the bench on the north side of the cabin. She was dressed in blue robes, complete with the embroidered symbol of Saint Rainbow Dash, though her splayed position revealed that the robes weren’t the only thing she was wearing. Emberglow could see enough of her hooves to note that the mare was wearing fishnet stockings; the kind that were just barely not too provocative, but clearly intended to be sexy. There was nothing sexy about the drool dripping from her clumsily open maw, however, creating a tiny wet spot on the shoulder of her robe. Her forehooves were clutched around a throw pillow that matched the bench’s upholstery, but her hind hooves were spread wide, uncaringly, and only luck seemed to be to blame for the mare having any sort of decency left. Her mane was black, with a pink streak, and the Knight was wearing makeup, of all things, a black lipstick and dark, magenta eyeshadow.

There was a second bench across from the first, and a tiny bathroom in the back, so Emberglow could have entered silently and ignored the mare. There was something about the insultingly casual way the mare was positioned in her sleep, however, that bothered Emberglow. She entered the cabin, and ‘accidentally’ slammed the door shut behind her.

“THE BEAR IS IN THE CARBURETOR!” the mare shrieked violently, jolting to her hooves and out of whatever dream she’d been experiencing. Her blue eyes blinked rapidly a few times, before a blush tinted her creamy, freckle covered cheeks. “Um, sorry about that. I was dreaming. Hi.”

“Hello,” Emberglow said cautiously. “My name is Emberglow.”

“Bubblegum,” the other mare said simply, stepping down from the bench she’d been standing on and holding out a hoof for Emberglow to shake. The mares shook hooves, and Emberglow sat down on the bench opposite where Bubblegum had been sleeping. Bubblegum sat as well, taking a slightly more dignified pose than she had been in before. “So we get a Radiant this time? Awesome. That’ll really let me cut loose. Bubblegum?”

It took Emberglow a few moments to realize that the mare hadn’t just turned her name into a question; the other Knight had reached into the pocket of her robes and produced a hoof full of wrapped candies. Emberglow shook her head, and Bubblegum shrugged, unwrapping two of the pieces with her teeth and throwing them casually into her mouth.

“More for me, then,” Bubblegum said, chomping loudly on the gum. Emberglow decided she wasn’t quite impressed with the mare. “So Delver Deep said we’d be getting some new blood. You look young.” Emberglow narrowed her eyes; she couldn’t be more than two years younger than the mare sitting across from her.

“Delver Deep?” Emberglow asked, ignoring the comment about her age.

“Yeah, he and I were assigned to Port Luminescence together a few years back. It’s been pretty boring up until now, but Knight Command’s deciding to get serious about this ‘Black and White Beard’ fellow. I hear another Knight’s already in the Port.”

“That would be Lady Turquoise of the Jubilant, whom I squired for. There’s going to be some regular army, as well. Elite marines, I’ve been told.”

“Good. Hope we get at least one more heavy gun. Nopony except Knights dares to wear armor on the seas, so some more artillery will cut right through those pirate bastards.”

“You’re surprisingly cavalier about pony lives,” Emberglow remarked neutrally. Bubblegum shrugged.

“Maybe so. But you haven’t heard the stories about this guy. He’s a brute; he and his crew have sunk five ships. That’s about a hundred pony lives, all on his stripey shoulders. Well, he and his crew’s,” Bubblegum said. “But whatever. Tell me about you. How long you been a Knight, newbie?”

“I took my vows twenty-nine days ago,” Emberglow admitted reluctantly. Bubblegum crowed with laughter, much to her annoyance.

“You really are fresh. That’s great. Port Luminescence will be a fun place to break you in. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to show you all the sights. The opium dens, the whorehouses, the gambling spots, the beer garden…” the mare snickered. Emberglow was a bit worried that she might not be joking. “It’s a right den of sin, our lovely Port.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Emberglow deadpanned, but the other mare just grinned. “Fine, tease me.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, newbie. I was just teasing. I can be a bit much, sometimes. My husband says so, for sure. He’s always lecturing me about it.” Bubblegum’s voice was fond.

“Husband?” Emberglow asked, mostly to be polite.

“Yeah. When I first took my vows, I asked for a semi-permanent posting, so I wouldn’t have to move very often. That way, I can have my hubby close by. His name’s Wind Storm. He works as a weather pony, so he can get a job wherever I’m stationed. He’s a pegasus, like you.” The mare lowered her voice and held a hoof to her lips, whispering conspiratorially. “I have a real thing for feathers.” Emberglow blushed crimson, and Bubblegum giggled. “Sorry about that, newbie. You’re gonna be fun, I can tell.”

“It’s fine,” Emberglow said flatly. “It must be nice, being so close to your husband.”

“You have no idea,” Bubblegum said. “Oh wait… you really do have no idea, do you. I’m sorry, I forgot you Radiant are afraid of sex or whatever.”

Emberglow stared at the expression on the other pony’s face. It was as if Bubblegum really had no idea how annoying she was. Still, Emberglow had started out this trip in such high spirits; she could sense that every second she spent speaking with this mare was going to dampen them, one annoying drip at a time.

“I’m sorry, and I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been a long day, and I was hoping to catch up on some sleep before we reached our destination. The flight’s going to be six hours, after all.”

“Oh. Oh, right, look, n… um… Emberglow, I’m sorry. My hubs says I have no filter, and I say stupid stuff,” Bubblegum said, her ears splayed back as she rubbed the back of her head with one hoof. “I promise, I don’t mean to be a jerk. I’ll leave you alone and let you read or sleep or whatever.”

Emberglow sighed. Bubblegum seemed like she meant what she said; maybe it was best to just accept her apology with grace.

“Fine, Bubblegum. I accept your apology,” Emberglow said. “We’re going to be fighting alongside each other, so I suppose I can try to be patient.” She tried a small smile, which Bubblegum returned with enthusiasm.

“Great. I’ll do my best to rein in my Bubblegummyness,” she giggled. Emberglow had to repress a shudder at the massacre of innocent Ponish words. “Are you…”

The question was interrupted as the entire ship rumbled, quivering slightly. Emberglow started, rising up a bit in her seat as the entire cabin shook.

“Don’t worry, that’s just normal takeoff stuff,” Bubblegum said. “Your first time flying in an airship? You must have been a sponsorship in Knight training, then, huh?”

“Yes…” Emberglow said, trying not to sound nervous. “How did you make that leap?”

“Most noble ponies have flown on airships loads of times, Emberglow. Sponsorships like you and me usually didn’t grow up with enough money for luxuries like this.” Emberglow looked at the mare. “Yup. I’m one too. Also, did anypony warn you about airsickness?”

“I’m a fully trained medical professional, I know all about airsickness,” Emberglow said primly. Bubblegum looked at her with a patronizingly sympathetic look.

“Sure, but you’re gonna wanna take your air sickness pills before the symptoms show up,” Bubblegum suggested. “They work better as prevention, not treatment.” There was a sudden lurch as the airship separated from the dock. The floor seemed to jump a few inches, and Emberglow’s stomach felt like it went the other direction.

“You… might be right.” Emberglow admitted.

“Yeah, I heard it can hit pegasi pretty hard. When you’re moving, but your body can’t see that you’re moving, it’s pretty nasty.” Bubblegum eyed her sympathetically. “I took my pills before I came on board. It always gets me. I’ll go get you some.” Emberglow didn’t even have time to protest before the mare was out of the cabin, the door swinging open behind her.

“Didn’t even close the door,” Emberglow muttered, rising up to pull the door closed.

By the time Bubblegum had returned with a pair of tiny pills and a canteen of water, Emberglow was starting to feel the motion.

“Is it possible to get out and fly alongside the ship?” she moaned miserably to Bubblegum as the cream-furred mare entered their cabin. “I swear I can keep up.”

“Not so fast, newbie. First off, we’re moving a lot faster than you think. Unless you’re as fast as Lady Dash, I seriously doubt you’ve got the wingpower to keep up with an airship. And even if you were, you wouldn’t be able to sustain it.” Emberglow was a little surprised that Bubblegum knew so much about flight, for an earth pony. “Now, take your pills.”

Emberglow swallowed the two little pills with a sip of water from the canteen. The cold liquid made her stomach do interesting things, and not interesting in a good way.

“I think I need to go up on deck,” Emberglow admitted. Bubblegum gave her a sympathetic look.

“Because you need to hurl?” she asked tactlessly. Emberglow stood up shakily.

“Because motion sickness is defined as the difference in your brain between perceived motion and actual motion, so if I’m up on deck, maybe my brain will realize my body is moving,” Emberglow lectured. The ship made a slight lurch. “And yes, also because I need to hurl.” Strangely, the use of such an unscientific term might have made her even more nauseous. Bubblegum backed out of the way as Emberglow rushed out of the room, onto the deck of the airship.

The feel of air moving against the fur of her face was like a magic balm. While Emberglow’s nausea didn’t go away, it receded into the background, going from raging beast to mild discomfort. Emberglow spread her wings to feel the wind moving underneath her feathers.

The airship had a pretty standard construction; a large, ovular balloon was tied to a wooden hull by thick cables. The canvas balloon was painted midnight blue and yellow, the colors of the Diarchy. A few other ponies were milling about on deck, attendants, crew members or just other passengers. All nodded deferentially to the two Knights standing on deck.

“Feeling better?” Bubblegum asked. Emberglow nodded. “Then c’mere. If this is your first time on an airship, you don’t wanna miss this.”

Bubblegum nudged Emberglow towards the edge of the airship with one shoulder. While several of the earth ponies nearby seemed to shy away from the wooden railing that stood on the edge of the ship, Emberglow had no such nervousness; what would happen if she fell off, after all? Following Bubblegum’s pointing, she looked over the railing and gasped.

New Canterlot City spread out beneath her like a child’s play city. Miniscule ponies went about their business, wandering between tiny buildings; Emberglow could barely make out individuals. They looked like tiny bugs, and she leaned over further to get a better look. Emberglow had gone up as high as the raincloud line before, but this airship was flying so much higher than that.

The five offices of the Knight orders were visible, as was the Central Cathedral, with the entire city rolling out from that main point. She could see the emerald wooded area of the Everfree, with its walking paths and public gardens.

“I can see the Ivy Seminary! And the Merchant’s Walk! My parents’ shop should be somewhere…” she pointed vaguely at the street where it would be, realizing that she’d never been this high above the clouds. Her motion sickness was completely forgotten.

“Don’t you fly often?” Bubblegum asked. “Ya know, cuz you’re a pegasus?”

“Not a lot, no,” Emberglow admitted. “My parents are earth ponies. I just never needed to, I guess.”

“Well, if you’ve never been up this high, it sure is a sight,” Bubblegum said, leaning over next to the other Knight. “Never gets old, for me.”

“You’re not afraid of heights?” Emberglow asked.

“Nope. I was a little afraid of them before I married Wind Storm, but he takes me flying every once and a while. Now, half the time one of our hot dates ends with a cloud walking spell.” Bubblegum waggled her eyebrows lewdly. Emberglow rolled her eyes, and Bubblegum giggled. “Sorry. Feeling better?”

“A bit,” Emberglow said. She really was. She’d probably end up spending the rest of the flight on deck, if she could.

“Well, be careful. When those pills kick in you’ll get drowsy. Wanna find something to eat?” Bubblegum asked. Emberglow considered for a brief second.

I’m not feeling that much better,” she admitted. “Go, I’ll be here, or wander back to our cabin if I get sleepy. You don’t need to foalsit me.”

“Okay, your loss. I’m gonna find me some hayfries. Let an attendant know if you’re feeling worse, kay?”

“I will. Go,” Emberglow said, waving a hoof. She wanted to enjoy this moment in peace, and Bubblegum was a bit aggravating, if well-meaning.

Emberglow sat at the railing as New Canterlot City slowly passed beneath her, watching the buildings getting shorter and less extravagant as their airship finally passed beyond the city’s furthest suburbs. As the last buildings faded out of view, she began to feel a drag on her eyelids. Now it made more sense that her travelling companion had been fast asleep when Emberglow had first found their cabin. She cautiously made her way down the stairs to their room, pleasantly surprised that her stomach had settled. She laid down on the bench, curling up in a much more ladylike position than Bubblegum had before, and closed her eyes for half a second.

The door to their cabin banged open loudly, and suddenly the room was much too full of exuberant pony.

“Emberglow! You awake?” Bubblegum called out. “Oh. You probably are now, huh?”

“Yes, I am,” Emberglow sighed. “What do you need?”

“We’re sharing the airship with two of the marines who are serving under us. They’ve been out to Port Luminescence before, and they’re great ponies. Wanna come meet them?” Bubblegum asked.

“You’ll forgive me if I drop unconscious in the middle of our conversation?” Emberglow asked tiredly. Bubblegum giggled.

“Pills kicked in, eh? Good, I’m glad you’re feeling better. C’mon, I wanna introduce you to Gearsmith and Gadget. I ran into them in the dining room. Leave your saddlebags here, they’ll be perfectly safe. Who would steal from a Knight?”

That the airship was big enough to include a dining room was a surprise to Emberglow. She got up from her spot on the bench, following after Bubblegum with resignation after sliding her saddlebags onto the bench. The blue-clad mare was prancing with excitement.

“Who are these two?” Emberglow asked.

“Earth pony soldiers. A father and his daughter, actually. He’s an artillery expert, and she’s his assistant and engineer. They’re good solid soldiers, and fun to be around, too.” Bubblegum led the way to the stairs leading deeper into the bowels of the ship. The wooden doors to the dining room were labeled with a metal sign, much like the door to their room, except this one read ‘mess’. The two ponies entered into a dining area that could perhaps hold, at most, a third of the total ponies on board the airship. The room was mostly empty; a wrinkled old mare sat by herself nursing a cup of steaming coffee, and another two ponies, dressed in Diarchy Marine blue and yellow uniforms, sat across from each other, having a lively conversation. The stallion was facing the door, while the mare had her back to the two Knights. The mare was blue, with sunshine yellow mane tied back in a braid. The stallion was shorter than his daughter and stocky, with the same color light blue coat and a black mane.

“Hey guys, I brought the other Knight to meet you. She’s on the same anti-puke pills as me, though, so she’s a bit out of it. Emberglow, meet Gearsmith and his daughter Gadget,” Bubblegum said, pointing at each of the ponies with her hoof as she introduced them. Gadget turned around in her seat to look at the newcomer, and Emberglow’s breath caught in her throat.

Sunshine bangs framed a freckled face that just sparkled with cheer; the mare was grinning, and her green eyes shone like gems. Her hooves were resting casually on the table in front of her, which held an empty plate from whatever meal she’d just shared with her father. As she turned to look at Emberglow, a single lock of yellow hair fell into her face, and she brushed it aside with a casual flick of a hoof. Emberglow could see that the mare was athletic; her body was fit, and she wore her uniform well on her lithe form. She wasn’t beautiful; cute would be more accurate. Emberglow had always known she was attracted to mares, for as long as she could remember, but no mare she’d ever seen had affected her at first sight like this one. There was something about those eyes, that smile that made Emberglow want to stare for hours. Looking was fine, right? If that was all she did? Emberglow had to remind herself to breathe, hoping that nopony had noticed her sinful reaction.

Fortunately, it seemed nopony had. The two soldiers stood respectfully as the Knights approached, but having seen Bubblegum’s attitude towards decorum, Emberglow got the impression that it might be for her benefit, and not Bubblegum’s.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Emberglow,” the stallion, Gearsmith said with a bow. “You don’t know how much we’ve wished for a healer on our team.”

“Your services will be in high demand,” his daughter said with a nod. Oh, by all the Saints, did her voice have to be cute too? “So you’re brand new?”

“I think her armor’s still gonna be hot from the forge when we get it out of its crate,” Bubblegum giggled.

“Sorry, Lady Emberglow. Bubblegum did already mention that you were pretty fresh out of training,” Gearsmith said. “Please, have a seat. Are you hungry?”

“Um, not really, no,” Emberglow said, a bit nervously.

“Yeah, dad. Didn’t you hear what Lady Bubblegum said about the nausea medication? The poor mare is probably suffering,”

“I’m not that bad off,” Emberglow protested. “The pills kicked in about five minutes ago.” She had a seat next to the blue mare, and Bubblegum moved around the table to sit next to Gearsmith.

“Good. Flights are rough. I remember my first flight years ago, to the Zebrican front. Our squad medic had to put me on an IV due to fluid loss,” Gearsmith mused. “Gadget here took to airships like they’re solid ground, the lucky thing. Not a hint of motion sickness.”

“It doesn’t always affect all ponies equally,” Emberglow agreed. Her eyes kept shifting to look at the mare next to her.

“You would know, you’re the doctor,” Bubblegum said, laughing at her own joke. Emberglow noticed the other two didn’t laugh; Gadget rolled her eyes, and her father merely looked blankly at the Knight Adamant. “What? I thought it was funny.” It was gratifying to know that other ponies were sometimes just as annoyed by Bubblegum as she was.

“Please don’t think all of us are like Lady Bubblegum, here,” Gadget said, her voice flat.

“Gadget! Show the proper respect,” Gearsmith scolded. “I’m sorry, Lady Emberglow. Lady Bubblegum has encouraged us to… well… be less vigilant in keeping up proper decorum with her, and showing less than a pony of her station deserves.”

“It’s fine,” Emberglow said. “You won’t offend me, I promise.”

“Yeah, some ponies just get so stuffy around Knights,” Bubblegum chimed in. “I wonder why?”

“Hmm, maybe because you’re the super-pony heroes that keep all of Equestria safe from its enemies?” Gadget mused. “Lady Bubblegum, I’ve seen you in a fight. You’re very impressive,”

“Aw, thanks Gadget,” Bubblegum gushed. “So, what brought the two of you back to New Canterlot City?”

“We had a few weeks of leave, so we went home to visit Mom. She’s a gardener for one of the noble families in the city,” Gadget said, nodding at Emberglow. “How about you, Lady Bubblegum?

“Oh, I was in the city for a hrmfrmsh…” Bubblegum trailed off into undecipherable gibberish.

“What did you say?”

“Um… gurglmurf.”

“Sorry, didn’t catch that. Did you say ‘disciplinary hearing’?” Gadget pressed. Bubblegum looked away, her face red.

“Yes,” she muttered.

“Which number is this one?” Gearsmith asked, sighing.

“Hey! Weren’t you the one who was just talking about proper decorum or whatever?” Bubblegum complained.

“I think that might have been more for Lady Emberglow’s benefit. You’ve already told us you don’t care, so you can’t have it both ways,” Gadget mused. “Which number is this one?” she asked, repeating her father’s question.

“Fourth…”

“And this time it was for…?”

“Somepony at Knight Command took issue with the doodles I was drawing on my official reports,” Bubblegum groused. “They were ‘offensive’ and ‘needlessly silly’ and ‘not showing the proper respect to the hardworking ponies who blah blah blah…’”

“Were they silly, offensive, and disrespectful?” Gadget asked.

“Well, of course they were! What else would I draw? Paperwork is boring,” Bubblegum grumbled, but then suddenly perked up. “But hey! I don’t have to do them anymore!”

“Why not?” Gadget asked.

“’All official reports and written debriefings of official Knight actions will be written by the most junior member of the squad,’” Emberglow recited. Bubblegum nodded.

“Yup. That. It’s in the rulebook,” the other Knight said, then looked at Emberglow in surprise. “Wait, you memorized the rulebook?”

“Just the parts pertinent to me,” Emberglow said defensively. What was wrong with knowing the official procedure?

“Yeah, lay off poor Lady Emberglow,” Gadget chimed in. “Just because you’re lazy, doesn’t mean everypony is.”

Everypony laughed at that, even Emberglow, who felt a warm sort of tingle that the mare had come to her defense.

“So, maybe you ponies can tell me a little about Port Luminescence,” Emberglow said.

“It’s a cesspool,” Bubblegum said, grinning. “But a fun cesspool.”

“I think Lady Emberglow wants a more useful answer,” Gadget said. “Have you lived your whole life in the capital?”

“No, my family lived in Rainbow Falls until I got my cutie mark,” Emberglow replied. “But New Canterlot City is pretty much all I remember.”

“Okay. Then the Port’s gonna be a very different experience for you. Most of the buildings are wood, and just about nothing is over two or three stories high. Also the roads aren’t paved, which is usually fine…”

“Unless the delta floods, and then it becomes a swamp,” Gearsmith supplied grumpily.

“Yeah, the Port’s built on a river delta, it does get flooded every so often. Good thing you can just fly above the mud, huh?” Gadget said cheerfully. “The Port is also livelier than New Canterlot City. Um, how to put this nicely…”

“There’s a lot of sailors there, and sailors tend to like whores and booze,” Bubblegum said.

“Isn’t prostitution illegal?” Emberglow asked. Bubblegum and Gearsmith laughed, though not unkindly. Gadget gave her a sympathetic look.

“Of course it is, Lady Emberglow. But sometimes the law doesn’t mean as much in the border towns.”

“What do you mean?” Emberglow said, shocked.

“Sometimes, staying alive is a big deal in the edges of the Diarchy. You focus all your energy on just staying alive and staying ahead. Certain things just aren’t a priority, and law enforcement can get lax on those subjects. The local constabulary has much more problematic issues on their plates than public drunkenness or prostitution, so it gets ignored.”

“That sounds awful.” Emberglow stared at the mare, open mouthed.

“It’s not so bad if you ignore it too.” Gadget shrugged. “Wow, that sounded a lot less terrible in my head. Look, think of it this way. We’re here to do a job. The pirates around the Port are making life miserable for the ponies that live there. If we clean up the pirates, they’ll be happier, less stressful, and better able to live good lives. We just try to leave other details to other ponies.”

“I don’t like it.” Emberglow’s eyebrows narrowed.

“You’re not going to change it overnight, either,” Gadget reasoned. “Maybe just focus on being an example? When the degenerate ponies of the Port see how happy you are, maybe they’ll all follow suit?”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Emberglow asked, searching the mare’s face.

“Well, no. But sometimes it’s rather nice to talk to somepony that isn’t a jaded cynic,” Gadget said, glancing at her father. “Or just a loudmouth weirdo.” Bubblegum grinned cheerfully. “And who knows? If I’m wrong, that’s a win for everypony, right?” Emberglow had to laugh at the cheerful outlook. Whatever the Port held, she was at least grateful at the presence of two ponies she could get along with.

The next few hours of flight were uneventful. Gearsmith stayed below to have a conversation with Bubblegum about firearms, something Emberglow wasn’t really interested in. Emberglow spent most of the time on deck, though she did take some time to convince Gadget to come over to the ledge with her. While the earth pony was not prone to motion sickness, she was rather nervous to be so close to the edge, and the subsequent deadly drop to the earth below. Once at the ledge, however, Gadget joined her in admiring the rolling waves of golden farmland below them.

“What are they growing down there?” Emberglow asked idly, watching the fields of grain crawl by beneath them.

“Food,” Gadget replied with a smirk. Emberglow laughed. “Obviously some kind of grain. Probably barley; there’s lots of breweries in the region. You… you’re allowed to drink beer, right?”

“Well, there’s a commandment against drunkenness, but it’s the same as for everypony,” Emberglow said. “The Vigilant and the Jubilant do take a Vow of Sobriety, but the Radiant only take vows of Chastity and Poverty.”

“Chastity. Oof, I’m sorry,” Gadget said. “Must be rough.”

Normally Emberglow would have brushed the question off. But for some reason, she didn’t this time.

“It can be,” she admitted softly. “But I’ve always known what I wanted. Ever since I was a filly, I wanted to join the Radiant.”

“Well, at least you still have beer,” Gadget joked, clapping Emberglow on the back. A rather sudden jolt of the airship, really just a light shake, made Gadget suddenly stumble and grip Emberglow tightly around her back. “Whoops, uh… sorry,” she said, taking a moment to regain her hoofing before letting go.

“It’s all right. Are you okay?” Emberglow asked, her stomach fluttering at the touch.

“Yeah, just a little nervous next to the edge. Hey, we should be able to see the ocean, soon. You ever seen the ocean?”

“N-no, never. We couldn’t afford a lot of vacations,” Emberglow stammered.

“You’re in for a treat then, Lady Emberglow.”

It took about fifteen minutes as the land shifted from flowing fields of barley to tall, lanky wild grass. The ground was rolling, gentle hills, and Emberglow could see they were covered in sand. Soon enough, the sparkling water came into view. Soft waves lapped onto a sandy shore; water glittering like a dragon’s horde stretched endlessly into a grey horizon. The light reflecting off the water was so bright her eyes hurt, but she didn’t care. It was beautiful.

“That’s… incredible,” Emberglow said. “It’s not like a lake at all. It never stops.”

“Nope,” Gadget said, grinning. “We’re lucky it’s such a nice day. The waves are tiny. It would be the perfect day for a beach trip. Too bad we don’t have any leave for a while.”

“First leave we have,” Emberglow said, slightly breathlessly. “We can all go. I need to visit a beach.”

“Don’t worry. Sir Delver Deep, the Knight Adamant in charge of our squad, is a good commander, and well prepared. He makes sure all his pirate hunters know how to swim. So, you might be getting a beach trip sooner than you think. Unless you already know how to swim?”

“No, I never saw a need,” Emberglow said. “New Canterlot City’s pretty landlocked.”

“Yeah, I get that. Sir Delver made us all learn as soon as we got assigned to the Port. Even Lady Bubblegum. She was a mess; nearly had a panic attack when we shoved her into the water,” Gadget laughed. “She’ll probably try the same with you. Bit of a hazing thing, really. Don’t worry, nopony will let you drown.”

“Swimming doesn’t really scare me all that much,” Emberglow said. Honestly the idea seemed exciting to her. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“It’s fun,” Gadget replied. The two ponies stood silently as their conversation drifted off, staring down the beach and at the twinkling waves. The sounds of the airship surrounded them; creaking planks, stretching ropes, even the businesslike conversations of the sailors and attendants as they wove around the various passengers on deck, performing their tasks. Emberglow was content to sit and listen for a while, letting the atmosphere wash over her, her gaze locked on the ocean. Maybe this was what some ponies called ‘the calm before the storm’. Once she reached the Port, her new life as a Knight would really begin. But for now, she just wanted to sigh, hang onto the railing of this airship, and watch the waves dance in the sunlight.

“Look there!” Gadget said, pointing at a rock outcropping rising from the ocean. “That’s called Sea Shine Rock. Port Luminescence begins just on the other side. In a minute, you’ll be able to see the first of the buildings. I’ll go let my dad know we’re almost there. You keep watch, it may not be the loveliest sight, but it is neat to see the town you’ll be living in from the air.”

Emberglow smiled as her new friend departed, before turning her gaze back to the rock, and the lands that lay beyond.

“That was cute. Have fun flirting?” Bubblegum’s voice asked suddenly from behind her. Emberglow jumped, spinning around in a start.

“I wasn’t… you shouldn’t… how long…” Emberglow stammered, took a deep breath, and continued. “We were not flirting. That would be illegal. And morally wrong. You know that,” she accused.

“Sure, whatever,” Bubblegum said airily. “Honestly, the whole topic bugs me. Why would the Holy Diarchs say it’s bad to be gay, then make a bunch of ponies love the same sex? It makes no sense. I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with it.”

“I don’t know much about the topic either,” Emberglow said carefully. “Only that it’s the will of the Diarchs.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bubblegum said again, looking Emberglow up and down. “Not like I’d say anything anyways.”

“Say anything about what?” Emberglow said, letting her voice get a little offended. Bubblegum just shrugged and walked away, leaving Emberglow feeling quite unsettled. She turned back to watch the approach of Port Luminescence, but the peace and serenity of earlier was completely absent. With a sigh, she wandered back down into the cabin to retrieve her saddlebags, then went back on deck to see what she could see of Port Luminescence.

Gadget had been right; the Port wasn’t much to look at, even from the air. Brown streets wound haphazardly around wooden buildings, most with faded and chipping paint. A few of the buildings had gardens on top, strangely enough, creating the illusion of green roofs. There was no logic or sense to the layout of the town; unlike New Canterlot City, which spread from a logical central point, Port Luminescence just meandered about every which way, as if drunk. Emberglow could see the airship dock; rather than an entire city block, with several different docks springing into the air, Port Luminescence had only one, with two arms springing out of the top like tree branches. One of the branches already had an airship parked at it; the Lost Lamb steered towards the other.

The activity on deck was growing from calm labor into organized chaos. Purposeful sailors dashed about readying lines, securing sails, and doing whatever it was sailor ponies did to get ready for docking. Emberglow was a little worried she might be in their way, but reasoned they would say something if she was. Or not, she corrected herself, looking at the respectful nods those who passed by her gave; she was a Knight, after all, and still dressed clearly in her white robes.

When the airship reached the dock, several of the sailors tossed lines to ponies waiting on the dock itself, who quickly tied off the ropes into winches that would secure the airship to the dock. Several lines were tied, and a wide gangplank was extended to the deck of the airship. A trapdoor in the hull of the airship was also opened and a second, even wider railed gangplank was extended so that dockworker ponies could begin unloading the luggage and other freight of the airship. Emberglow hesitated a moment, wondering if it was safe to disembark, but when she saw other ponies beginning to move towards the gangplank, she shrugged and went down the wooden plank herself.

The first moment her hooves touched the wooden floor of the dock’s boardwalk was disorienting. Going from a moving, shifting vehicle to stable ground took a moment to get used to. Emberglow paused, allowing her body to get used to not moving any longer, before trotting towards the central pillar that held up the entire dock structure. The inside was much smaller than the one in New Canterlot City, with only a single freight elevator and a spiral staircase going down. She wondered if somepony would see to her armor in its crate, but then remembered that she had had nothing to do with getting it onboard in the first place, so she probably didn’t have to worry about it here. She trotted down the stairs and out the large door into the streets of Port Luminescence, waiting outside the doors for the others to disembark and catch up.

“Welcome, Knight Emberglow, to the vast, shining metropolis of Port Luminescence,” Bubblegum said grandly as she caught up with the other Knight. “Please note the finely paved, immaculately clean streets, the elegant construction of the architecture, and the joy to be seen on all the smiling faces.” Several nearby ponies scowled at the statement, before going about their way.

“It’s lovely," she deadpanned. "Where are the other two?”

“On their way. We’re supposed to meet at the army building. It’s a few blocks to the south. The Knights have their own house that Knight Command purchased a few years back, but I’ll show you where that’s at when we’re done meeting with Sir Delver. Gadget and Gearsmith stay at the barracks with the rest of the soldiers; they don’t need to check in with Delver, so it’ll be just you and me for the next few hours.”

“Lead the way,” Emberglow said patiently, and followed Bubblegum through the streets. Everything the other ponies had said about Port Luminescence was true; it was filthy but lively. Walking down the streets, it was clear that things were more difficult here than the back home in the capital. Stallions and mares each seemed to have harder muscles, and many ponies had scars. There was no air of hostility, however, as ponies called raucously to each other in greeting, laughed loudly at each other’s jokes, and were generally being boisterous. It was different than what she was used to, but not nearly as bad as she had feared.

The office of the army was one of the few three-story buildings in the area. It was surrounded by a tall fence, with two shorter buildings fenced in, alongside what looked like a small exercise yard. One of the smaller buildings was long but narrow, probably a barracks of sorts. There were two uniformed guards at the gate, armed with spears. The three-story building was labeled with a wooden sign outside the door, that stated simply, ‘Diarchy Army Headquarters’.

“Welcome back, Lady Bubblegum,” one of the guards said, saluting with his hoof to his chest. “Sir Delver and Lady Turquoise are waiting inside, in Sir Delver’s office.” The two guards pushed the double wooden gate open for the Knights, and they entered into the army headquarters complex. They found their way into the large, three story building, where Bubblegum guided Emberglow up the stairs to an unmarked office door. The Knight Adamant knocked on the door, waiting for a muffled, “Come in!” before turning the handle and entering the office.

The office was undecorated, containing only a single wooden desk covered with papers, using rocks as paperweights. The walls were simple but clean whitewashed wood, and a few odd seating pillows lay scattered on the floor. The light was provided by a simple chandelier, gas powered, hanging from the ceiling.

Two ponies waited for them inside the spartan office. Emberglow knew to expect her former mentor, Turquoise, who quickly moved over to hug her former squire. Like the younger Knights, she was dressed in her own pink robe.

The other Knight wasn’t wearing a robe, but armor. His armor was clean, but clearly well used, its blue painted surface covered in hundreds of tiny nicks and gashes. He was sitting behind his desk, and had risen when Emberglow and Bubblegum had entered, waiting politely while Emberglow and Turquoise greeted each other. He had a black coat, and a very short, cut grey mane. It made the much more colourful light blue of his armor stand out.

“Knight Private Emberglow, reporting as ordered, sir,” Emberglow said, saluting the dark stallion with hoof to chest after she ended her hug with Turquoise. Even though she no longer had to refer to other Knights as Lady or Sir, it was still regulation to refer to the commander of one’s squad, or team, as sir or ma’am.

“Glad to see your flight was uneventful, Emberglow. I’m Delver Deep. I see you’ve already met Bubblegum, and Turquoise has already told me much about you. All favorable, don’t worry. Hard working, brilliant, and clever, I’ve heard. I’m glad to have you.” The stallion turned to Bubblegum. “How many?”

“I have no idea what you—”

“How many, Bubblegum?” the commanding Knight said with a smile and a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Um...”

“You know I can just look it up in the official reports. They will send them to me, eventually.”

“Three sir,” Bubblegum muttered.

“Three weeks? That seems light,”

“Three months, sir,” Bubblegum said, sounding annoyed.

“That makes more sense,” Delver replied. Emberglow and Turquoise glanced at each other in confusion.

“Any money riding on the outcome, sir?” Bubblegum asked, grinning at her superior officer.

“Bubblegum,” he said sternly. “If you don’t take these things seriously, how will you ever learn proper decorum?”

“Never, sir,” Bubblegum said with a grin, and Delver sighed. “So, were there bits riding on it?”

“I had fifty bits that you wouldn’t get away with anything less than two months’ docked pay for your little stunt. You’ve just made me a very slightly richer Knight, Bubblegum. At the expense of three months of your own salary.”

“Glad to help,” Bubblegum said cheerily. It was odd to hear this talk of salary; Emberglow reminded herself that three of the Knight Orders, the Mystic, Vigilant, and Adamant, didn’t swear the Oath of Poverty.

“What… did she do?” Turquoise asked, sounding as if she barely dared to.

“I was doodling on my official reports.” Bubblegum shrugged. “Somepony back at Knight Command didn’t like it, is all.”

“Dicks. You drew giant dicks on official reports. With smiley faces. And name tags written with badly misspelled versions of the names of the very ponies that you were sending reports to. Did you really expect to get away with it?”

“Sometimes I just do things,” Bubblegum muttered. “I don’t always waste time thinking about what’s gonna happen afterwards.”

“Quite. Now go see your husband. I’m sure you missed him.”

“Yes, sir!” Bubblegum cheered, pumping her hoof in the air. She rushed out of the room without another word, leaving a stunned Turquoise and a gently laughing Delver.

“She seems odd,” Turquoise said diplomatically.

“Very odd,” Delver said. “She’s been serving under me for two years now. She’s different, but loyal to her squad, and very good in a fight. She’s saved my soldier’s lives a dozen times, and mine too. It’s worth the occasional aggravation of having to put up with disciplinary hearings, and three months docked pay.”

“She’ll be okay, right?” Emberglow asked cautiously. “I mean, she’ll have enough money to manage?”

“She’ll be fine. Or rather, they’ll be fine. Wind Storm, her husband, is very down-to-earth,” Delver said, with a chuckle at his pun. “He’s good with money, and he gets a decent salary as the head weather pony in charge of things around the Port. She’ll suffer, but not enough to cause real problems.”

“That’s good,” Emberglow said, relieved.

“But will she actually learn her lesson?” Turquoise asked. Delver shook his head.

“Next month it’ll be some other mischief. She doesn’t really do it on purpose, she just has no impulse control. An idea enters her head, she thinks it’ll be funny, and next thing you know it, it’s another flight back to New Canterlot City for another disciplinary council and a few more months docked pay, or whatever discipline tactic they’re working on next. If she weren’t so blasted useful, and if her infractions were more than just foalish silliness, I’d be seriously worried about her position as a Knight. As it is, they’d never kick her out for something this stupid.”

“You think it’s funny,” Turquoise accused, pointing at the stallion. Delver laughed.

“A bit, yeah. Sometimes it’s nice to be around somepony that has no filter. Every so often she says all the things we wish we could, but are too polite to consider. But anyways, on to other business. Emberglow, have you been briefed on the situation here in the Port?”

“A little, but not much,” Emberglow admitted. “I know there’s a zebra pirate tormenting ships between here and the colonies on the Zebrica continent. I know he’s sunk five ships so far, and stolen large amounts of cargo.”

“Let me fill you in a bit on the local politics,” Delver said. “Port Luminescence is ruled by a stallion they call Portmaster Blingshine. The stallion is a pirate, pure and simple.”

“A pirate?” Emberglow asked, cocking her head. Had she misheard? “Aren’t we hunting pirates?”

“Well, he’s a pirate who works for us. Or, more accurately, he’s a pirate whose goals align with ours. Blingshine is wealthy, and as long as he cooperates with the army, and any nearby Knights, he keeps getting wealthier. Our job is hunting down the pirates, but our second job, no less important, is keeping Blingshine happy. If we got rid of him, he would simply be replaced by the same kind of pony, one who may or may not be willing to work as closely with us. So we turn a blind eye to some of the more unsavory things that happen in this town, in the name of keeping the peace with Blingshine. Meanwhile, he knows not to go too far over the line, lest we cut our losses and try again with the next scoundrel who will hold his position.”

“I… see,” Emberglow said, though she was still a little confused. “Can you spell it out for me in practical terms?”

“Mostly, stay out of Blingshine’s way. He’s going to want to meet the new Knight. He’s going to try to bribe you, seduce you, and manipulate you. Turn him down without insulting him, and we won’t have additional problems. If you think he’s doing something to hurt or hinder us, let me or Turquoise know before you act on it, and we’ll act together.”

“I can do that, sir,” Emberglow said.

“Now I believe you need directions to the house we’re staying at?” Delver asked. “I’d be happy to find a soldier who can show you the way.”

“If it’s okay with you, sir, I’d love to show her,” Turquoise said, smiling slightly at Emberglow. “We haven’t seen each other in several months, besides at her assessment. I’d like to catch up.”

“Oh. Of course, that makes sense. We’re done here. Emberglow, we’re meeting here, in this office, at zero-seven-hundred hours tomorrow morning to go over our plan of action. Until then, your time is yours. Feel free to explore the town, or rest in our house. The rougher elements of the Port should leave you alone when they see your uniform, but if not, remind them why they should, hmm? Have a good night, you two.”

“You’ll like the house, Emberglow,” Turquoise commented as they left the building. “It has a full-time caretaker and a gardener. He grows the most amazing fresh produce on the roof, and she’s a phenomenal cook.”

“I saw quite a few rooftop gardens on the way in,” Emberglow said. “Is that because of the flooding?”

“Yes, it can get quite nasty around here. Luckily for you, you don’t have to deal with it when it gets really muddy,” Turquoise said, with good-natured envy and a glance at Emberglow’s wings. “The house also has a huge, relaxing tub in the basement. I know…” The older mare trailed off thoughtfully, looking at Emberglow. “You don’t think it’s cheating, do you? Making use of luxury that already exists?” Emberglow laughed.

“You’re the theologian, what do you think?” Emberglow asked, both amused and surprised that her former mentor would be asking her opinion, though she supposed they were equals now. Turquoise smiled.

“It’s not sinful, even with our Vow of Poverty, to make use of resources provided specifically for Knights like us. Resources such as big giant hot tubs and bubble bath.”

“Actually… a bubble bath might be absolutely fantastic. I’ll explore the city some other day,” Emberglow said with a sigh of anticipation. The two mares shared a friendly laugh as they trotted off through the streets.

Chapter 12

Emberglow’s Journal Entry, dated 1112 AF

I think I’m going to turn this dream journal into a regular journal. My intent was to record the strange dreams I had about the mare in the moon (I know who Lofty thinks she is, and I think he’s right, but I still don’t want to write Her name down) but I haven’t dreamed of her since I left the capital. Can she not contact me when I’m this far away? Either way, I wanted to start recording my non-dream thoughts and feelings, and this seems like the perfect spot. Don’t worry, journal. I’ll still record every dream.

The port is not at all what I expected. I have no really clear memories of what life was like outside of New Canterlot City, but I’m sure Rainbow Falls was nothing like this. The ponies don’t seem to care about the Saints at all. They offer lip service, but I’m starting to suspect that even that is just because I’m within earshot. I’m trying to get used to seeing prostitutes and drug dealers plying their wares in broad daylight, but I don’t think I ever will.

The radio reports from NCC say they’re having an oddly unseasonal cold snap. The news says the early frost has destroyed tons of crops in the northern Diarchy. I’m worried about my parents; the food shortages threaten to drive up prices, and they’re not wealthy.

This is probably the first time I’ve felt jealous of my comrades in the Adamant. I find myself full of sinful covetousness, wishing I had their salary so I could send it home to my parents. Knowing them though, they’d probably try to find a way to refuse.

I’m finding myself oddly afraid of this unnatural weather. it’s not hitting us this far south, but something in the news reports made me think of the creatures from my vision, when I touched the orb back before I was Knighted. The frigid, cold creatures. Even writing about them here makes me shiver.

Ugh. That’s enough journal writing for today, I think. I’d rather not give myself nightmares.

1112 AF, Port Luminescence

Turquoise affectionately called the Knights’ home in Port Luminescence the Turtle. It was wide and squat, only two stories tall compared to the other three- or four-story ‘manors’ that it shared a neighborhood with, though that name hardly seemed apt to Emberglow when compared to the grand stone structures of New Canterlot City. Port Luminescence’s wealthiest neighborhood had finer houses than the rest of the town, but that merely meant the wooden and stucco houses were slightly larger and less covered in mud. The Turtle didn’t have much by way of a yard or grounds, though the squat roof did hold an impressive garden, and it was wider than most of its neighboring buildings.

The interior held enough space for personal rooms for six Knights, including two bathrooms (one of which contained the all-important giant tub!), one on the upstairs with the bedrooms, the other downstairs near the entrance. There was a kitchen and a dining room, complete with an elegant long table and electric lights hanging from the ceiling. The caretaker and gardener, an aged earth pony couple, stayed in a small suite next to the kitchen. Lime Peel and Painted Plow were quiet, respectful, and competent, and Emberglow liked them the moment she met them. They kept the place spotless, and as soon as Emberglow and Turquoise walked into the Turtle, Emberglow could smell the evidence of Lime Peel’s expert culinary skills. Turquoise had inhaled deeply as soon as the front doors were open, proclaiming ‘tacos!’ cheerfully as she ushered the younger Knight into the manor.

The two mares took turns with the giant bubble bath before dinner. Lime Peel assured them they could eat when they were done, and Emberglow felt like she really needed the soothing soapy water after her long airship ride. She stayed in until the water began to grow cold.

Dinner was delightful, though the large dining room, designed for nearly a dozen ponies, felt quite empty with only Emberglow and Turquoise. Delver was working late, and Bubblegum was spending time with her husband at the modest home they shared. The soldiers who would be joining them for the mission, including Gearsmith and Gadget, were housed at the barracks near where Emberglow had met Sir Delver. So the older Knight and her former squire indulged on hoof-made tortillas and perfectly seasoned beans and vegetables while Emberglow and Turquoise caught up. Afterwards, Turquoise showed Emberglow to her room.

It was larger than she was used to at nearly three times the size of her room at home. It was empty, and perhaps a bit soulless in its lack of decoration. There was a simple box frame bed, a small shelf for books, and a simple desk, all sitting on a polished wood floor.

To the right of the door sat a wooden crate; it was her armor. Porters from the airship dock had already brought it. She slipped her saddlebags off her back, setting them at the foot of her new bed. The crate had already been pried open, the lid lying loose on the top.

“Is this your new armor?” Turquoise asked from the hallway outside Emberglow’s room. Emberglow nodded silently, her eyes fixed on the box like a foal lusting after her Hearth's Warming presents. “Well? Might as well open it. I want to see, too.”

Carefully Emberglow lifted the lid of the crate. Inside was a brand new, shiningly pristine set of white armor.

“Aw, it’s not pink,” Turquoise whined. Emberglow snorted her amusement.

“I would have been disappointed if it was,” she replied, running her hoof lovingly over the three blue diamond motif painted on the flank of the armor.

“I’m proud of you, Knight,” Turquoise said, and Emberglow looked up with surprise at the strained voice of her former mentor. Turquoise’s eyes were shining and wet, and the pink-robed mare rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m so proud.”

“Getting emotional, Lady Turquoise?” Emberglow teased. Turquoise’s ears twitched.

“Hush, you. I’m not crying, it’s liquid pride. Besides, you don’t have to call me Lady any more. You know that.”

“A year of habit doesn’t go away in an hour, Turquoise,” Emberglow said. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be Lady Turquoise to me, even if I don’t say it.” The older Knight laughed, and drew Emberglow into an affectionate embrace.

“Well, get some rest. If I know Delver, tomorrow will be busy. We’ve got some diplomatic responsibilities to take care of first before we can set sail, and dealing with the locals can be exhausting. I’ll come get you for breakfast at 0700, if you’re not up yet.”

“I’ll be up,” Emberglow said. She was a natural early riser. “Good night, Turquoise.”

“Night,” the other mare said, and slipped into the hallway, pulling the wooden door closed behind her and leaving Emberglow alone to unpack her sparse possessions: a pair of spare robes and underthings, her personal copy of the Book of the Saints, the official Knight Code of Conduct manual, and her journal. Last of all were her good luck charms; a pair of carved wooden ponies, and a metal medallion carved to look like her cutie mark. These she placed on her shelf.

“Well, we’re here, Lucky,” she whispered gently to the carved unicorn. “I’m so excited. And nervous. I hope I’ll be good enough.”

The bed was just as comfortable as it had looked, but with her body full of nervous energy and her head full of excited thoughts, it still was a few hours before Emberglow was able to drift off to sleep.

The next morning Emberglow was the second into the dining room, ten minutes before seven in the morning. Delver sat by himself at the long table, idly chewing on some toast while he looked over paperwork. He was already dressed in his armor.

“Good morning, sir,” Emberglow said as she approached. The black coated stallion looked up and waved a hoof, fork and all, at Emberglow.

“Morning, Knight. Sleep well?” he asked politely. Emberglow nodded and pulled out a chair across from him, taking a seat. “Wonderful. Busy day today.”

“That’s what Turquoise said. Something about meeting the locals?”

“Sometimes keeping Blingshine happy means playing his ridiculous games. He’s known for a week that a new Knight was coming to town, and he wants to meet you. He always asks to meet with any new Knights that come to town. He’s going to try to feel you out.”

“Why? What’s he after?” Emberglow asked. There was a light hoofstep entering the dining room as Lime Peel approached the table. Both of the Knights’ ears perked up as they looked up at the elderly caretaker.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, lady. Lady Emberglow, what would you like for breakfast?” the lime green earth pony mare asked gently.

“Um…” Emberglow hesitated, not really knowing what she could ask for. Delver came to her rescue.

“Breakfast is casual here, and the caretaker will make pretty much whatever you want. Lime Peel makes great pancakes, and the eggs are always fresh. None of that powdered crap you get on the war fronts, mind you. Real maple syrup, too. Can’t get good coffee with all the piracy between here and the zebra republic, though,” he said.

“Can I get Prench toast, then?” Emberglow asked. “And any coffee is fine.” It hurt a little to say that sentence out loud, but she’d manage.

“Of course, Lady Emberglow. I got some blueberries and fresh cream in the icebox, if you want those on top of your Prench toast,” the caretaker replied. Emberglow nodded, her mouth watering in anticipation.

“How do you take your coffee?” the elderly caretaker asked.

“Black, please,” Emberglow said. Lime Peel bustled off, leaving the two Knights alone. “So what should I expect from Blingshine?”

“He’s going to prod you. Test you. He wants to know what kind of Knight you are, if you have any buttons he can push, all while under the veneer of a polite meeting. I’ve got us scheduled to go meet with him for lunch.”

“Any advice?” Emberglow asked, feeling apprehensive. Delver paused, considering.

“Honestly, Blingshine is the reason I requested a Knight Jubilant be assigned here. I’m not a diplomat. Turquoise has been here a month and already she’s brought my stress levels down measurably. So you’ll have to talk to her more about that. If I were to suggest anything, it would be this: be polite but vague in your answers. Be aware of your emotions and your reactions, and don’t let him push you. He’s going to want to figure out how you fit into whatever petty plots or schemes he’s got going on, so if you give him nothing, he can’t use you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Emberglow said. “I’ll keep all that in mind.”

Turquoise wandered into the dining room shortly afterwards, smiling but slightly bleary eyed from sleep. She slumped into her chair and waited patiently for Lime Peel’s return. The caretaker entered the dining room to drop off a fresh stack of Prench toast in front of Emberglow.

“Morning, Lime,” Turquoise mumbled. “Eggs and toast. Black coffee, please. Sunny side up on the eggs.” Lime Peel left the dining room with a smile and a nod for Turquoise.

“Morning! Coffee and pancakes, please!” A cheerful shout came from the door to the dining room as Bubblegum, followed by a pegasus stallion Emberglow had never met, blew into the room. Turquoise flinched at the volume, her ears instinctively flinching away from the verbal explosion.

The Knight Adamant was dressed in her blue armor. Similar to Delver’s, it was clearly well-maintained and well used, with the obvious scratches and nicks that indicated combat usage. Emberglow was slightly surprised by the obvious care Bubblegum took in her armor; she’d expected the mare who was so sloppy with her discipline and professionalism to be sloppy with her possessions as well.

The stallion was tall and lanky, with a coat the color of storm clouds and a windswept pale green mane. He was wearing simple brown trousers and a white linen shirt, the kind of style that, if he added a tricorn hat and an eyepatch, would look like he was a pirate from the illustrated foal’s books Emberglow used to read. He had an earnest, friendly sort of look on his face.

The overly cheerful Adamant pointed at Emberglow. “That’s the new girl I told you about, Windy.”

The pegasus, Wind Storm, eyed his wife critically, as if silently waiting for more. Bubblegum stayed pointing at Emberglow, a silly grin plastered on her face. Finally she noticed her husband’s disapproving gaze, and looked at him with confusion.

“What?” she asked. He sighed, and moved gently past his wife to approach Emberglow with a bow.

“Hello, Lady Emberglow, I am Wind Storm. I apologize for my wife’s rudeness.”

“Nice to meet you, Wind Storm,” Emberglow said, trying not to laugh at Bubblegum’s pouting face. She decided she quite liked Bubblegum’s husband; he seemed to be a grounded sort of stallion. She stood up and held out a hoof to the other pegasus, and they shook.

“You don’t know how glad I am to know there will be a Knight Radiant out there on the seas with my Bubblegum,” he said as he squeezed her hoof with both of his. His eyes were worried, full of love and earnestness. Emberglow felt a lump in her throat, suddenly feeling the weight of her new responsibilities as she looked into this stallion’s eyes. “You’ll keep them safe?”

“Of course,” Emberglow said, her throat suddenly dry. Bubblegum grunted, moving up to bump her husband with her flank.

“Why are you getting so serious all of a sudden? I’ve been just fine this far,” Bubblegum groused. She brushed past Emberglow and her husband to find an empty seat at the long table. Her husband sat down next to her.

“You’ve been lucky,” Wind Storm teased, though Emberglow thought she heard a note of worry behind the light tone.

“Enough,” Delver cut in, just as Bubblegum had opened her mouth to protest. She scowled at him, but Wind Storm nodded respectfully. “We have business to discuss.”

The itinerary for the next few days was a busy one. In addition to Emberglow’s meeting with Blingshine for lunch this afternoon (which would be attended by Turquoise and Deep Delver, but not Bubblegum, for ‘diplomatic reasons’), there would be a chance for Emberglow to meet all the marines who would be serving with the Knights. The afternoon after the meeting would be filled with a tour of the ship they would be sailing on, and swimming lessons in the ocean. Even though she knew it would be business, Emberglow was excited for the beach. Over the next week, Emberglow would get a crash course in both swimming and ship-to-ship combat before the Knights and their marines embarked on the Lady Elegant, a three mast merchant ship deliberately built to disguise the presence of both the Knights, and the three pairs of heavy cannons. Emberglow thought it a good omen to be embarking on a ship named after her patron Saint.

“Thank you for letting me join you for breakfast,” Wind Storm announced after the ponies finished an amazing breakfast with somewhat mediocre coffee. “I’ve got to get started. The Port’s clouds won’t bust themselves, and the Weather Bueareu hasn’t scheduled any rain for a week.”

“We should all be about our tasks,” Delver said. “Emberglow, you’re with Turquoise and Bubblegum this morning. They have business at the barracks as well.” After saying their goodbyes to the caretakers, they set off for the barracks, a building inside the walled compound that housed the headquarters for the Diarchy Army. The two spear-armed guards, wearing polished gunmetal colored armor, saluted the three Knights as they entered.

In the mowed grass lawn in front of the barracks, ten marines stood at attention waiting for the Knights. Each one was wearing long jacket-style blue uniforms with yellow trim. She recognized Gearsmith and Gadget; the mare broke her stance long enough to grin and wink at Emberglow before resuming her position. Three of the ponies, including Gadget, wore the bar of a Private First Class on their right shoulder. Gearsmith had the double bar plus crossed sabers of a corporal.

“Knights! Welcome back to Port Luminescence! All three fire teams of Strike Squad Epsilon are ready for your inspection!” the pony closest to them called out. She wore the same uniform, only with three bars and crossed sabers on her shoulder. She was an earth pony, with white fur and a three-toned green mane, cut short in a military style.

“Thank you, Sergeant Arrow,” Turquoise said. The inspection was mostly a courtesy; the Diarchy armed forces and the Knight orders shared an odd relationship. While technically not part of the military command structure, marines were often assigned as support to teams of Knights. “This is Lady Emberglow, of the Radiant.”

The Sergeant was a perfect picture of military discipline, but Emberglow could see the pleased look in the mare’s eyes as she stepped forward to offer her hoof for Emberglow to shake. Her grip was strong.

“I heard we would be finally getting a Radiant. Ever since Morning Dew went on maternity leave we haven’t had a medic. Your presence will save lives, Lady Emberglow. Thanks for being here. My command has informed me that you will be our acting squad medic for the duration of your stay here,” the Sergeant said. “Are you familiar with marine medic protocol?”

“A little,” Emberglow said. There was some precedent for Knights being temporarily placed in the command structure of regular army units, so it was covered briefly in the Knight Code of Conduct book she had brought with her. “I won’t be able to give orders or anything, except as it pertains to medical care and the health and wellbeing of your soldiers. Is that correct?”

“More or less. I’ll go over the procedures with you in detail, if you wish,” Sergeant Arrow said. “For this morning, I wanted to introduce you to the squad and go over any questions with you.”

“We have a few hours until our lunch appointment,” Turquoise said. “Emberglow, if you’re fine here, you can meet the marines while Bubblegum and I go to speak with the local quartermaster about our provisions for the ship.”

“Boring stuff,” Bubblegum chimed in cheerfully.

Both of her more senior compatriots were looking at her for her assent. It felt odd to be treated as an equal; for the last several years she had been a med student, then a page, then a squire. Something about being seen as an equal to these two Knights was weirdly frightening and elating at the same time. She grinned at her own silly thoughts.

“Um, of course.” She turned to Sergeant Arrow, trying to sound confident. Military ponies responded to confidence, she thought. “Sergeant, I’d like to meet with each of your squad, and go over anything I should know in their medical records. Do we have time for a quick check up each?”

“I don’t see why not,” Sergeant Arrow said. “You can use Morning Dew’s old office while we’re in Port Luminescence. I’ll show you where she kept the medical records.”

The old Squad Epsilon medic’s office was in the same building that housed Delver’s office. It contained a desk, an examination table, a filing cabinet, and an empty cabinet.

“No supplies?” Emberglow asked the sergeant as she inspected her new domain. Sergeant Arrow shrugged.

“I think Morning Dew took everything with her before she shipped back to Harper’s Ford. We didn’t think you’d need anything, because of your, um, magic.”

“In addition to my Knight training, I have also been classically trained as a doctor,” Emberglow informed the sergeant while she opened up the filing cabinet. At least the squad’s records had been left inside. She ignored the incredulous look the sergeant was giving her. “I believe in an inclusive approach to pony health. Medical technology and science exist for a reason, and magic isn’t always the best solution to every problem. Would it be possible to requisition some basic medical supplies from the navy? I can give you a list of what I will need.”

“Of course, Lady Emberglow,” Sergeant Arrow said professionally, hiding her surprise. In truth, Emberglow didn’t care if ponies thought she was odd, as long as she could keep them healthy. She flipped through the folders, each one with a pony’s name written in narrow, tight hoofwriting. She found the one she was looking for, labeled with the name ‘Ice Arrow, Sergeant’.

“Shall we get started?” she asked with a smile. Sergeant Arrow stared at her, confused. “How long since your last physical, Sergeant Arrow?” The pony said nothing, but looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Sergeant? Last time I looked, Navy and Marine regulations both require a physical for each soldier at least once every six months. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Lady Emberglow,” the sergeant said, sounding miserable.

“So how long has it been?” Emberglow asked. “Remember, I can…”

“Two years, Lady Emberglow,” Sergeant Arrow said in a rush.

“I see,” Emberglow said simply. “Well, uniform off, up on the exam table please. You may leave your smallclothes on.” She ignored the pained sigh the sergeant gave, instead taking a moment while the mare disrobed to glance through her medical file. There was nothing alarming, except a note in the same tight hoofwriting as the outside of the file, regarding a near paralyzing fear of needles and immunizations.

“This is Morning Dew’s hoofwriting, correct?” Emberglow asked. She looked up to see Sergeant Ice Arrow, wearing nothing but underpants, sitting and trying not to shiver on the examination table. Her body was muscled, tight with years of experience and exercise. A collection of blade scars decorated her front legs and shoulders, and Emberglow could see a long healed, rather nasty bullet wound in the mare’s barrel.

“Yes, Lady Emberglow,” Sergeant Arrow said.

“Very well,” Emberglow said confidently. “Morning Dew was quite impressed with your health. You eat right, exercise regularly, and generally lead your troops by example. You’re also months overdue for at least four immunizations.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the older mare said miserably.

“Fortunately for you today, I have no supplies yet, so I won’t be doing any poking today,” Emberglow said. “Just a basic physical. But you can’t hold it off forever, sergeant. Just remember, it won’t be nearly as bad as when you got this,” she stepped over to the table and patted the sergeant's bullet wound. Sergeant Arrow flinched.

Despite the promise of future shots, Sergeant Ice Arrow stoically endured the remainder of Emberglow’s physical examination. In truth, without common instruments such as a sphygmomanometer or a stethoscope, there was not much she could do. The whole exam only took ten minutes, and afterwards a relieved Sergeant was dismissed and asked to send in the next pony on file, a Cerulean Mallard, PFC. While Emberglow waited, she read over Mallard’s file. Nothing much stood out, except for a slight limp caused by a five year old spear injury to one of his rear legs.

One by one, each of the marines of Strike Squad Epsilon came in for Emberglow’s quick examination. To a pony, every single one was respectful, and excited to have her joining them. Each one was eager to meet her, and despite years of being a bit of a studious loner with few friends besides her parents and Lofty Tale, Emberglow found herself enjoying the chance to meet the soldiers she would be fighting alongside and keeping alive and healthy. After several sessions of examinations and chats, though, she soon found herself holding Gadget's file.

Medical records were confidential. An entire class in medical school had been dedicated to medical ethics, and the responsibility of a healer to keep her patients’ confidence. Only a Confessor or a Knight could violate that confidence, and in the latter case, only if the pony was accused of a dire crime. Doctors and other healers often had to have a complete picture of a pony’s lifestyle, so sometimes embarrassing or secret details could be found in their medical records. Emberglow knew that her own included a statement about her homosexuality, as many doctors considered it a mental illness. Not enough to keep her from serving as a Knight, however. Emberglow’s stomach practically did flips as she read the words in Gadget’s records.

Confessed Homosexual. Non-Practicing.

It was the same words listed in Emberglow’s medical records. She had already dismissed the last soldier; Gadget was on her way. What would she say? Would she confess to her fellow sufferer? Emberglow had never really spoken to another pony who was struggling with the same attractions she was; except for a few brief conversations serving soup to ponies being punished in the stockades. Or maybe she should simply ignore it? Pretend she hadn’t read? No, that wouldn’t work; just as she knew her own records were marked, Gadget would know what was written in hers.

And how was she supposed to do an examination objectively? She’d performed physicals on mares before, but none of them had been so…

The office’s wooden door opened, and the blue earth pony stepped inside, looking nervous.

“Lady Emberglow, it’s good to see you again,” Gadget said, her voice unsteady. Emberglow managed a smile.

“Come in, Gadget. Please disrobe and move up to the examination table. You may leave your smallclothes on.” It was a miracle her smile didn’t waver, and her voice remained calm. “Your records are all in order. Up to date on immunizations, no significant health concerns, no major injuries. You’ve taken care of yourself.”

“I try, my lady,” Gadget said. She had managed to get out of her uniform, and was sitting up on the table in nothing but her underpants, and Emberglow’s eyes dragged over the mare, just as cute in her fur as she had been in her uniform. With great effort, Emberglow kept her jaw from dropping as she took in every line and curve of the mare’s body, every perfect muscle and every immaculate strand of her blond mane. She stepped over to her patient, unable to look her in the eyes.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a stethoscope just yet, I’ll have to check your heart and lungs the old fashioned way,” Emberglow said, while wondering how she could possibly hear the beating of another pony’s heart over the pounding of her own. “Please lay back.” The soldier complied, laying on her back on the table. With shaking hooves, Emberglow checked Gadget’s pulse first, feeling for the strong, steady beat of the earth pony’s heart. Then she placed her ear on the patient’s chest, trying not to marvel in the softness of the blue fur as she listened for any breathing problems. It was just like all the other physicals she had done, except for the nearly debilitating infatuation that was growing in her chest like a warm glow. When she raised her head from the other mare’s chest, their eyes met, and Emberglow realized she hadn’t been as successful as she had hoped in hiding her reactions.

“You’ve read my file,” Gadget said softly. “All of it.” Emberglow nodded.

“I’m your doctor, marine. Not your Confessor,” she replied. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing in your file I need to be worried about, so there’s no cause for concern. You seem perfectly healthy, too.” Something passed between them, from Gadget’s green eyes to Emberglow’s teal ones. Emberglow realized her hooves were shaking, one of them still resting on the mare’s chest from the examination. She hastily removed it and stepped back, the distance between the two mares feeling like a sudden necessity. Emberglow opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly couldn’t think of anything. What could she say? Nothing either of them could say or do would do anything to change the situation they were in. Emberglow didn’t know about Gadget, but the Knight had promised herself ages ago she would never act on her forbidden impulses. She imagined, due to Gadget’s membership in the army, that the earth pony had made a similar promise. She closed her mouth again, letting the pregnant silence continue its gravid hold as she turned away.

“You can get dressed, Gadget. Thanks for coming in. Can you send in your father next?” She tried to make her voice cheerful, and not shaky.

“Of course, my lady. And if the others haven’t said it yet, we’re all so glad you’re here. Having a Knight Radiant is a blessing, and I’m glad it's somepony like you,” Gadget said. Emberglow turned, smiling over her shoulder at the other mare.

“Only every other pony including the Sergeant has said so, Gadget. But thanks for saying it again anyways. I only hope I can live up to your expectations.”

The moment had passed, and Emberglow had survived without doing anything too sinful or even too embarrassing. She distracted herself by looking over the next file, Gadget’s father Gearsmith. For a middle-aged soldier pony with plenty of combat experience and dozens of old war wounds, he seemed to be in fairly good health himself. Idly, she wondered if Gearsmith knew about the little notation in Gadget’s medical file. Soon enough the older, blue-furred stallion entered her new office with a polite greeting.

“Hello, Lady Emberglow,” he said. “How are you acclimating to the town?”

“I haven’t had much of a chance to see it yet,” she responded. “I sure like The Turtle, though.”

“The Turtle? Oh, the house you Knights live in. I’ve seen it once or twice. Quite nice,” he said. “What do you need me to do?”

“Strip down to your underpants and get up on the exam table,” she said. The motions of a physical were automatic, and she performed her tasks with casual precision. Just as his file claimed, Gearsmith was in good health, with a strong heartbeat.

“How long have you been a soldier?” Emberglow asked.

“It wasn’t in my file?” Gearsmith snarked, laughing, before answering anyways. “I lied about my age when I was fifteen to join up with the navy. I’ve always loved ships, so I started out as an engineer on a supply ship running guns and ammo between Port Daywatch and Camp Swift Victory, in northern Zebrica. When we were ambushed by a squadron of zebra raiders, I took up the rifle of a fallen comrade and realized I was a damned good shot. Since then I’ve always carried a heavy gun.”

“And your wife?” Emberglow asked.

“We met in Daywatch. Merry Gray was in the army briefly, but… well, not everypony is built for war and fighting. She took a medical retirement as soon as she became pregnant with Gadget. I took a post training heavy gunners in New Canterlot City, and she got a job as a groundskeeper for the Sorbet family.” Gearsmith laughed at a memory. “The kid took after me too much, I think. Merry had talked about how excited she was to have a daughter, and I think she was looking forward to, well, doing girly things with her. You know, frilly dresses, tea parties, that sort of thing.”

“Not the way things turned out?” Emberglow asked, grinning. She was enjoying the conversation with the older soldier.

“Oh no. The kid was much more at home with me tinkering with airship engines and firearms than she was in a fancy parlor. Not that Merry ever loved her any less, but Gadget did turn out quite the surprise for both of us. Didn’t surprise us at all when she turned sixteen and wanted to enlist. The army takes ‘em as young as that, but only with parents’ permission,” Gearsmith sighed. “I was sure Merry was gonna kill me when Gadget asked us. Instead she just smiled sadly, and said she’d let the kid go as long as I went to watch after her and keep her safe. So we both ended up in the same unit, with the kid as my assistant.” He blinked, and his ears pinned back suddenly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to ramble on about my daughter. That’s not exactly why we’re here, is it?”

“Don’t apologize, I’m having fun,” Emberglow said with a smile. She had finished her simple exam, and motioned for Gearsmith to get dressed again. “The whole point of these physicals is to get to know my squad, after all. I don’t even really have the instruments to do a proper physical. It’s nice to get to know the ponies I’ll be working with.”

“’Your squad’, eh new girl?” Gearsmith teased. Emberglow blushed.

“Well, yeah. Sergeant Arrow did say I'm officially the squad medic,” she said.

“I’m just teasing, Lady Emberglow. You’ll fit in here just fine,” he said as he finished putting on his uniform. “Is there anything else you needed?”

“Yeah, uhm, I was wondering about something,” Emberglow asked, thinking that the older, more mature stallion might be the best pony to ask about this particular curiosity. “I’ve read that some military units engage in, um, mostly harmless bouts of practical jokes, teasing, and harassment, often slightly ritualistic in nature, towards new members.”

“What?” Gearsmith said, confused. Emberglow could see his mind working, the gears turning as he pieced together what she had said. “Oh, you mean hazing?”

“Yes, that,” Emberglow said nervously. “Does your strike squad do hazing?”

“Well, yeah, each military unit does a little. It’s usually harmless.”

“Even your strike squad?” she pressed. She’d read a few accounts, both in fiction and nonfiction, of hazing rituals in military units. While most writers described the activities as mostly harmless, the accounts had sounded disturbingly similar to what she had experienced in the Ivy Seminary. She tried to keep her voice casual, but something must have slipped, because Gearsmith’s ears perked up as he eyed her sharply.

“Something the matter, Lady Emberglow?” Gearsmith asked. She said nothing, and the older soldier reached out as if to pat her on the shoulder with one hoof, before hesitating at the last second and lowering it. “By the Saints, ma'am. You’re nervous about it happening to you?” He sighed. “Don’t be. We may act casual around Lady Bubblegum, but that’s just how she is. Our soldiers would never dream of treating you that way.” He smiled, a little warily. “Please don’t think me overreaching, Lady Emberglow, but, well…” he hesitated, scratching at the back of his mane with one hoof. “You’re young. Really young. Younger than my daughter. But ponies are gonna forget that, because you’re a Knight. I forgot that for a bit myself. Because of who you are, you’re not going to be treated like other soldiers.” His smile widened. “You haven’t heard what the other soldiers were saying in the barracks last night. We’re an elite combat unit, ma’am, but we lose ponies too. Still will, probably. But having you around is one of the best things for morale that’s ever happened. There’s no way anypony in the squad would mess with you like that.”

“So what, I’m like a mascot?” Emberglow asked, giggling at the horrified look Gearsmith gave her. “It’s okay, Gearsmith. I was just nervous about it, that’s all. It’s hard to be the new girl, you know? Thanks for making me feel better.”

“Any time, ma’am. Want me to send in the next pony?” he asked.

“Sure. And Gearsmith? I don’t mind being a mascot. Just don’t expect perfection.”

Maybe Delver and Turquoise had biased her with their descriptions, but Emberglow was not impressed by her first glimpse of Blingshine’s manor.

“This is it?” she deadpanned as the three Knights approached the two-story stucco structure. Delver nodded patiently, but Turquoise laughed.

“Tell us how you really feel, Emberglow,” she said while giggling.

“I mean, when you said ‘manor’, I assumed something perhaps a bit grander and less garish,” Emberglow explained. Like the Turtle, the "manor" was only two stories tall, but it was wide and expansive, with huge open windows and a gigantic porch. The entire mansion was contained within an enclosed grounds, surrounded by a stone wall two ponies tall. Emberglow could see the leaves of palm trees reaching over the estate walls. The outer wall was interrupted by a pair of gilded brass gates, needlessly ornate with curving, flowery designs. Two burly looking guards stood at the gates, eyeing the Knights as they approached.

“If you think the outside is bad…” Turquoise muttered under her breath. Emberglow glanced at her. Her tone had been full of snark, but her face was a diplomatically blank mask. She glanced back at the earth pony guards, who were dressed in cheap-looking, polished brass armor and carried sheathed, curved cutlasses.

“Welcome to Blingshine manor, yer honors,” one of the guards slurred. His partner pulled the gate open for the Knights. “His governorship is waiting for ya in the garden. I’ll show ya the way.”

“Thank you, good stallion,” Turquoise said serenely. They had agreed beforehand that she would do most of the speaking.

Just as Turquoise had said, the inside was even more cheaply flamboyant than the outside. Emberglow could see garishly colored curtains hanging in each of the manor’s exterior windows, an explosion of clashing hues. The grounds were immaculately kept, complete with large carved topiaries in the shape of sultry, curvaceous mares in scanty attire. Emberglow might have been bothered if it weren’t so comically ridiculous.

The guard led the way to an outdoor garden, where a banquet table sat underneath a canvas canopy. The table was spread with an array of exotic fruits and vegetables, many of which were clearly imported, being not even remotely suitable for the current climate or time of year. There were baked pastries as well, and even what looked like a pair of fish dishes. Emberglow knew that some ponies living near large bodies of water sometimes consumed fish, but she caught the scent of the meat and decided that she probably wasn’t going to be one of them.

At the head of the table sat their host, Blingshine. He was a pegasus, with white fur and a golden mane. His clothing was much like his property: a garish, overly decorative silk eyesore comprised of clashing colors. Each limb was bedecked with gold and silver bands; even his wings were decorated with wing bands, chains, and jeweled adornments. When he stood and smiled at his guests, Emberglow counted at least four false golden teeth. To Emberglow, it all felt so needless, as if Blingshine felt the need to loudly announce to everypony around him just how wealthy he was, in the most vulgar way possible.

Blingshine wasn’t the only pony at the table; flanking him on either side of his chair were a pair of mares dressed in a sad imitation of Blingshine’s topiaries. Their flushed faces were caked with makeup, and their eyes were a bit glazed over. Emberglow saw a mostly empty bottle of wine sitting next to Blingshine’s spot, which explained the flushed faces and drunken giggles that bubbled out of the two floozies.

Emberglow did her best to steel her expression at the disgust she felt. She looked at Blingshine, noting his sharp gaze and knowing smile.

“Welcome to my manor, honored Knights,” he almost bellowed, his bombastic voice filling the space under the canopy. “Lady Emberglow, what a pleasure to meet you. Your compatriots have told me so much about you, but their words do not do justice to your beauty.” He held out a hoof to her.

Emberglow tried not to scowl at the ‘compliment’. It took one glance at Blingshine’s companions to realize just what the pirate governor’s standards of beauty were. She fixed a plastic smile on her face and reached out to shake his hoof, but had to bite back her surprise when instead of shaking, he leaned down to kiss her hoof, maintaining eye contact the entire time. The action was surprisingly gentle, though she still shuddered at the touch of his lips on her hoof. There was a glint in his eyes that let her know he hadn’t missed her reaction.

“Thank you, governor,” she managed politely, extracting her hoof from his as soon as she could without offering insult.

“Please, sit and eat. Help yourselves to whatever you like. If there’s something you’d like but you don’t see, let me know and I’ll see if I’ve got any in the larder.” He laughed as if he’d made some great joke, and his floozies giggled sycophantically.

“We are grateful for the meal you’ve provided, Governor Blingshine,” Turquoise said smoothly. “Please allow us to say a blessing over the food before we begin.” He motioned for her to continue, with only a brief flash of annoyance crossing his expression.

Emberglow half expected the sometimes volatile Turquoise to use the opportunity to needle Blingshine, but she merely said a simple, heartfelt prayer over the food before the three Knights took their seats. The three locals looked uncomfortable, but stayed silent until everypony was seated.

“So!” Blingshine called loudly as Emberglow eyed the garish feast before her, wondering how much she needed to eat to be polite. “Tell me about our newest Knight.”

“I’m not all that interesting.” Emberglow kept her voice even and polite, just like Turquoise had suggested. “I only took my vows a month ago. I’ve spent the last few weeks in seclusion and prayer, contemplating my future and pondering on the Book of the Saints.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Turquoise smirk in approval. Emberglow carefully selected some fruits and greens and made herself a simple salad; even if the richer fare was being offered for free, Emberglow still felt uncomfortable taking full advantage of the pirate’s feast.

“That sounds… enlightening.” Blingshine picked up a silver goblet and took a sip of his wine. “Here, let me pour you some of this vintage. It’s an absolutely delightful red, and perfectly sweet.”

“Oh, thank you, but could I have water instead?” Emberglow asked blandly. “Drunkenness is a sin, after all.” The two simpering mares shuffled uncomfortably, glancing at their own goblets. Emberglow heard a sound coming from Turquoise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of amusement.

Inwardly, Emberglow was pleased. Turquoise had suggested that one way of dealing with Blingshine was to be as vague and boring as possible. A stallion that had so clearly dedicated his life to sin would be utterly uninterested in hearing about her four weeks of prayer, meditation, and solitary study. So of course she’d find a way to work it into every bit of conversation she could.

“Of course,” Blingshine answered smoothly. He reached over to a separate carafe and filled her goblet with water. “The same for the two of you?”

“Yes, please,” Turquoise chimed in cheerfully. Delver also nodded. Blingshine plastered on an insincere smile as he filled their goblets, though his attention was mostly on Emberglow.

“You’ll enjoy this, I’m sure,” he said. “Now, enjoy the feast!”

As the ponies ate, the conversation turned superficial. Blingshine and the two older Knights exchanged meaningless pleasantries, while Emberglow and Blingshine’s companions listened silently. Blingshine frequently made conversation with a mouthful of food, and a not insignificant percentage of his wine often spilled onto his shirt or chest. Emberglow found herself wondering, with no small amount of disgust, how a stallion with such hideous table manners as Blingshine had managed to catch the eye of two mares, clearly many years younger than himself. She’d read once that some ponies found power attractive, though it made no sense to her.

Still, while the company was less than ideal, at least the food was appetizing. Emberglow found herself enjoying her salad despite herself; the greens were fresh, and paired nicely with the crumbly cheese, ripe strawberries, and candied walnuts she mixed on her plate.

“You’ve been quite silent, Lady Emberglow. Please, I’d love to know more about our newest Knight.”

The possessive phrasing irked her, though Emberglow imagined that was deliberate. “What would you like to know?” she asked, then cringed inwardly. She shouldn’t have given him such a broad opening.

“I’d love to know about your background. What family did you come from?” There was a small, slightly victorious grin on his muzzle. Emberglow noted the odd wording of the question; he was clearly assuming she came from some noble family.

“My parents are tailors,” she told him, hoping it would be bland enough to bore him. Instead his grin became almost vulpine.

“So you’re a sponsorship, then? A mare of rare talent and luck. You must be quite exceptional.”

“Not really,” Emberglow said humbly, for once not acting. “I got where I am because of hard work and hours of study. If you’re interested in self-improvement, I’d be happy to share my study techniques with you.”

Turquoise suddenly choked loudly, forcing Delver to pound her on the back a few times. With an embarrassed look, she took a drink of water. “Sorry,” she rasped. “Choked on a piece of fruit.” Emberglow knew her mentor well enough to know she was holding back laughter. “What do you say, governor? Interested in learning all about Emberglow’s study techniques? She’s an apt teacher.”

“Well, I…” Blingshine sat back, an expression of discomfort clear on his face. “Perhaps if…”

“Oh, I’d really enjoy that,” Emberglow decided to poke just a bit. “We could use the Book of the Saints as a text, or perhaps Stoic Abstinence’s Meditations on Self-Denial.”

“We’ll have to see,” Blingshine muttered, clearly dismayed at the idea of reading any sort of book written by a pony named Stoic Abstinence. “It sounds delightful, but really my schedule as governor is quite busy. And you all will be leaving soon to keep us safe from pirates, after all.”

Emberglow, surprisingly, felt a guilty sort of pleasure from needling the stallion, but she didn’t want to push too hard. So she simply nodded graciously and returned to her meal in silence.

It seemed, after that exchange, that Blingshine was discouraged enough by her behaviour that he gave up on prodding Emberglow for more information about herself. He kept the conversation to business after that, focusing his attention more on Delver and Turquoise. Emberglow, on the other hand, was perfectly fine to fade into the background and wait for the uncomfortable luncheon to end.

When it was finally time to go, the Knights politely excused themselves for other business. She felt no small sense of relief when the three of them walked out of the manor and back into the street. They were barely out of earshot when Turquoise began giggling.

“Stoic Abstinence?” she managed through her laughter. “You made that up.”

“I didn’t!” Emberglow protested with a smirk. “He was a real author. A Knight Adamant philosopher and strategist from about a century after the Siege of Manehatten.”

“Of course you would have read a book like that,” Turquoise teased, and Emberglow mock-scowled at her.

“I’m not that boring. I’m just familiar with the title, is all. I figured it would make him uncomfortable.”

“You’re going to want to be careful with that tactic,” Delver warned, seriously. “Blingshine is a proud stallion. If he realizes you’re toying with him, we’ll have problems.”

“Did I go too far?” Emberglow was suddenly nervous.

“No, you were perfect.” Turquoise reassured her with a pat on the back. “With any luck, our fine governor has now been scared off of any further luncheons or meddling in our business.”

“That’s a relief,” Emberglow nodded. “So what comes next?”

“Next, we introduce you to our ship’s captain,” Delver said. “I promise you’ll enjoy this meeting quite a bit more.”

The actual port part of Port Luminescence was much more than Emberglow had expected as she and the other Knights approached. The airship port had been small, a mere molehill next to the mountain that was New Canterlot City’s. The sea port, however, was a veritable forest of masts, draped with rigging rather than vines, and canvas rather than leaves. Most of the ships were small, single-mast fishing and short range merchant vessels. There were a few two- and three-mast ships, though, some of which had cannons on deck. A dozen piers jutted out into the calm ocean waters of the bay, a natural geographic feature created by a long arm of a rocky peninsula jutting out into the ocean. A single, short lighthouse perched on the tip of the peninsula. Emberglow could see a dozen ships in motion, coming into or out of the port.

“Do you see that triple masted vessel flying the Diarchy flag?” Turquoise pointed. “She’s the Lady Elegant.”

The Lady Elegant lived up to her name. She was clearly a noble lady, with smooth, graceful lines, three tall masts, and portholes in the sides that concealed the presence of six heavy guns. Two pegasi dressed in naval uniforms flitted about the rigging, adjusting lines and checking knots. The three Knights stepped onto the deck to find the captain.

When he noticed the Knights aboard his ship, one of the pegasi working in the rigging flew down, landing in front of the Knights. He was a light stormy grey, with a muted blue mane. He wore the Diarchy naval uniform, blue and gold, with captain’s epaulets on each shoulder. “Good afternoon, Sir Delver.” He reached out and shook Delver’s hoof in greeting. “How was lunch?” There was a twist in his voice that suggested he knew exactly where the Knights had had their meal.

“A travesty, Captain Stratus. Meet our new Knight. This is Lady Emberglow.”

Emberglow was rather surprised that the captain had been personally checking the ship’s rigging. The fact that the ship’s captain took such an interest in the minute details of his ship somehow felt gratifying to her, like a master craftsman taking loving care of his tools. It reminded her of her parents, and the care they took in their shop.

“Welcome, Lady Emberglow. Let me show you aboard the ship.” He swept his wing wide to beckon them to follow him.

Though it was being used to hunt pirates for this mission, the Lady Elegant was clearly a cargo vessel. Oversized earth pony stallions were lifting dozens of crates on board. Six guns would have been a bit excessive for a cargo vessel, but they were as hidden as they could be. It was a finely drawn balance; the ship had to look attractive enough to be a target for pirates, but dangerous enough so that any approaching buccaneers would not be suspicious of a trap. The number of cannons didn’t really matter; the true military force on board the ship would be the Knights themselves.

The wooden door underneath the poop deck led to the quarters of the Captain and the Knights. Space was limited, so even though their quarters were nicer than the sailors’, they would still have to share. Emberglow was less than thrilled when she realized she would be sharing with Bubblegum. The sympathetic look that Turquoise gave her said that maybe she hadn’t quite hidden her distaste well enough. The quarters contained a porthole window, a bunk bed bolted to the wall, and a wardrobe, albeit a small one. There was also a tiny writing desk and a three-legged stool.

After a quick tour of the decks, the captain showed the Knights to his private dining room, where they met and discussed the plans for their voyage. There was a table large enough to seat six ponies. On the starboard side of the Captain’s dining room was a small shrine, consisting of an altar with three pillar candles and an unpainted bass relief of Saint Rarity’s cutie mark.

“Is this because of the ship’s name?” Emberglow asked the captain, pleased.

“It’s the other way around, actually. I had a say in her name when they gave me the ship. I’m one of the Seamstress’ Orphans, Lady Emberglow. Saint Rarity holds a special place in my heart.” That was interesting. Emberglow grinned widely.

On the table in the Captain’s dining room was an array of sea charts, maps, and other various paperwork. The three Knights and Captain Stratus sat around the table to discuss the planned voyage.

The round trip could take as long as two months, depending on the weather. They would set sail from the port, ostensibly carrying a cargo of weapons and armor for the Diarchy forces fighting against zebra guerillas in Zebrica. Their actual mission, though, was more clandestine. Knight Command had known for months that the dread ‘Black-and-White Beard’ pirate had a source of information inside the military. Thus, they would treat the voyage like a regular supply run, in an attempt to lure the pirate into attacking them. If he didn’t make an appearance, they would try again. Since Black-and-White Beard had hit five ships in the last six months, though, there was a decent likelihood he would attack, especially given the value of their cargo.

Emberglow was glad she hadn’t unpacked her brand new armor, as all four of the Knights would have their armor and weapons hidden aboard Lady Elegant. Captain Stratus even supplied some civilian clothing and navy uniforms for the Knights to wear until they cast off from Port Luminescence, to further the illusion that this was a standard supply run.

“Are you nervous about learning to swim?” Turquoise asked as the four Knights trotted to the next item on the schedule: swimming lessons.

“Um, maybe a little?” Emberglow confessed. They made their way to a spot on the south end of the bay, set aside for public swimming. It was already teeming with ponies in swimsuits. Emberglow tried not to gape at the sheer volume of exposed fur around her. Ponies pranced about wearing just barely enough to not violate public indecency laws.

“Don’t worry, it’s easy,” Bubblegum chipped in eagerly. “I picked you out a swimsuit, too.” For some reason, that statement made her quite a bit more nervous than the actual swimming. “C’mon, there’s changing rooms over here.” She led Emberglow over to a squat wooden building, shoving a bag into her hooves before leaving her to change in private.

With a great deal of trepidation, Emberglow opened the bag to reveal a modest, one piece navy blue bathing suit. She couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. When she stepped outside the changing room, however, she felt that she might have been right to be nervous; while her suit was conservative, the frilly black two-piece that Bubblegum was prancing about in was just as scandalous as what the locals were wearing.

“Ready to get wet?” Bubblegum asked with a waggle of her eyebrows. Emberglow merely stared at her, silently, while the other mare grinned irrepressibly. “C’mon, we’ll jump off the pier,” she said, galloping to the end of the wooden structure. Emberglow looked out at the waves. They were small, only two or so feet high, due to the peninsula that protected the port. To the left of the pier were a few ponies frolicking and goofing around in the shallow water. There were even some of the bestial races; Port Luminescence had a small population of griffons, zebras, and even a few odd minotaurs. The deeper waters near the end of the pier, where the Knights were headed, were mostly empty of other creatures. As Emberglow and the two other Knights walked to the end at a slightly more sedate pace, Delver described as best he could with words the physical motions of swimming.

“The movement comes fairly naturally,” he explained. “There’s not much to learn. Being familiar with the motions and with the feel of water will be helpful for you if you ever find yourself accidentally overboard. Also, do you know any water breathing spells?”

“Of course,” Emberglow answered. Spellwork and runes were something she excelled at, thanks to hard work, study, and a slightly obsessive personality when it came to her own education and self-improvement.

“I’d advise you to cast it on yourself as soon as we engage in naval combat,” Delver said. “If you are wearing full armor, you’ll sink.”

They joined Bubblegum at the end of the pier. All four Knights lined up, looking out into the ocean.

“So, how do we begin?” Emberglow asked, looking at the two senior Knights.

“Step to the edge of the pier, and look out towards the horizon,” Turquoise said. She had an odd sort of smirk on her face, but Emberglow thought nothing of it as she did as she was told. As soon as she felt hooves on her flank, however, she realized two things:

First, she should have suspected the mischievous smirk.

Second, even though the marines might be too in awe of her position as a Knight and a magical healer to engage in hazing, that didn’t mean her fellow Knights would feel the same way. In fact, it was highly likely they didn’t.

“Surprise!” Bubblegum cheered as she shoved Emberglow over the edge of the pier into the water. She managed to twist herself in an attempt to dodge the attack, but only managed to flip her body sideways so she entered the water on her side, rather than muzzle first.

The water was warmer than she expected, though Emberglow wasn’t able to appreciate her first physical contact with the ocean. She gave out a squeak of shock before clenching her muzzle shut. Salt from the ocean stung in her nostrils and eyes, and her limbs flailed around in the water for a second or two before she was able to right herself and breach her face above the water. The first thing she heard was giggling.

Delver was correct; the motion of her hooves paddling through the water was clumsy and a bit panicked, but came naturally. She was able to stay afloat long enough to clear the saltwater from her eyes and glare up at her tormenters. She shook her head, her ears pinned back in annoyance as she gave what she hoped was a death glare at Bubblegum.

The youngest of her compatriots had fallen back on her plot, giggling behind a hoof. Delver was grinning at her as well, and even Turquoise managed to look both amused and guilty at the same time.

“You look like a drowned pink mouse,” Bubblegum said. “But you’re treading water just fine. It’s easy, right?”

“I would have liked some warning,” Emberglow groused back.

“Sorry,” Delver said, sounding nothing of the sort. “It’s kind of become a tradition. I shoved Bubblegum in when she first got here, years ago. A month back when Turquoise arrived we did the same thing before she started her lessons. If we ever get a new pony, you can be the one to shove them in.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Emberglow said grumpily. Delver shrugged, and Bubblegum cheered.

“That means I get to go again!” she said cheerfully, before stepping back a few paces. “Watch out!”

The youthful Knight Adamant took off at a gallop, launching herself into the air over Emberglow’s head, who gasped and ducked down as the earth pony passed overhead. She gracefully rolled into a ball in midair, spinning head over tail until she was face-first towards the water. Her dive barely made a splash.

“We’re coming in too,” Turquoise warned, before the other two jumped in as well. Emberglow watched their motions carefully; Delver looked at home in the water, just like his sister Knight, but Turquoise was clearly more cautious and less experienced. They treaded water until Bubblegum swam over after her acrobatic dive.

Despite the somewhat unexpected start, the swimming lesson turned out to be a lot of fun. There turned out to be some complications with her wings, though; the sensation of floating in water was oddly similar to being in midair, and Emberglow instinctively wanted to spread her wings and use them to power her through the water. Wet, waterlogged wings were useless in both air and water, however, so she had to force herself to keep her feathery appendages tight against her barrel. The other three were earth ponies, so they had been little help on the subject of wings when she'd asked. Instead, they drilled her in swimming techniques, and taught her how to dive and how to do the ‘dead pony’ float. Bubblegum even apologized for the shove (miraculously sounding halfway sincere about it) and gave her some practical pointers about fighting in and under the water. Granted, if there was combat underwater things would have probably already gone catastrophically wrong, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared for the possibility.

They swam laps. They dove. There were some underwater sparring lessons, and a few impromptu splash fights instigated by Bubblegum. The lesson lasted an hour and a half, and Emberglow felt both exhausted and accomplished at the end of it.

When swimming practice was over, Bubblegum cheerfully volunteered to go collect everypony’s towels. She vaulted herself up gracefully onto the pier before shaking her wet fur like a dog to shed as much water as possible. She even stuck her tongue out for effect and then dashed off for the changing rooms, where Emberglow assumed she had left some towels.

There was a shower next to the changing room, which allowed all the ponies to rinse the salt water off their fur. After they were rinsed and dressed, Delver addressed the Knights.

“We’ll meet for swimming practice every morning before lunch until departure. After lunch, we’ll work on some sparring and group tactics. Some of us have never fought as a group before, and I’d like a better idea of our strengths and weaknesses. For now, though, there is no business or orders until tomorrow. You all have free time until then.” Bubblegum squeed, clapping two hooves together before darting off with her usual energy. Delver sighed, shaking his head. “I think she has a date with her husband. Do you two have plans?”

“A half-dozen letters to write home,” Turquoise answered.

“Um…” Emberglow said lamely. “I suppose I could read.”

“If you like, you can have one of the marines show you around the Port. I’m sure Sergeant Arrow has given them liberty for the evening as well. There’s plenty to do in town. I only ask that you dress as a civilian. I’d like to keep a bit of a low profile in town when possible.”

Emberglow thought about it for a moment. It was dangerous, but she was certain of her own self-control. She nodded.

“That sounds good. I’ll go see if somepony is available,” Emberglow said. She already knew which somepony she wanted to take. The three of them headed back to The Turtle to get changed.

True to his word, Captain Stratus had sent several civilian outfits to The Turtle for the Knights to choose from. Emberglow found several blouses and skirts in the closet of her room, loose and light like the clothing she’d seen on several other mares throughout town.

It was odd to consider wearing something other than her robes, but she picked out a crimson blouse, complete with puffy sleeves, and a long black skirt to go with it. Emberglow was no fashion expert, but she liked to think that she looked good in the ensemble. She didn’t know much about makeup, but most of the mares she’d seen in the Port had been wearing something, so she went into the washroom near her bedroom. Fortunately the Captain had also supplied a simple makeup kit. It took longer than she was pleased to admit, but Emberglow was finally able to apply a light eyeshadow and eyeliner, just enough to show she had made an effort. On the way out, she ran into Turquoise, who was appropriately shocked.

“Emberglow, is that you?” the Knight Jubilant exclaimed dramatically, teasing the younger mare with a grin. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you in normal clothes. You look good. Any idea what you’re going to do tonight?”

“Nope,” Emberglow said honestly. “I was going to take Delver’s advice and see if any of the marines are available to show me what to do for fun in this town.”

“Mostly all the marines do is bar hop,” Turquoise said, sounding bored. Emberglow grinned. Though she never had seen the appeal of drunkenness, at least the Radiant didn’t swear an oath of sobriety like the Jubilant did.

“That would be fine. Though I did want to see if they had a library,” she said. Turquoise snorted with amusement.

“A library? Are you sure you’re not secretly a Mystic? I remember how much time you spent in their library,” Turquoise teased. “Besides, I’d be nervous to see what a library in a pirate town looked like.”

“You’re probably right,” Emberglow said. “Still, I’d like to see.”

“You be careful, okay? This place isn’t like New Canterlot City. Law and order are more… well, ideals than actual law and order.”

“I’ll make sure to wrangle a marine or two to come with me, don’t worry,” she said, before reaching out with her hooves to hug her mentor. “You have fun with your letters.”

By herself, Emberglow made her way to the walled compound that contained the barracks. While she hadn’t felt apprehensive at all on her other trips through Port Luminescence, there was something subtly different when she was by herself. The town was full of sailors and pirates of all races. Most ponies ignored her, but it was hard to not notice the interested looks she was drawing from some of the stallions.

Objectively, Emberglow knew she was attractive. The debacle with Lofty Tale, before they had mended their friendship, was proof of that. But seeing the looks on the stallions that passed her by made her fur crawl. Nopony said anything to her, but that didn’t stop the sensation of their gazes drooling across her figure. She yearned for the comfort of her robes.

Finally she reached the military compound. The guards outside moved to challenge her as soon as she approached.

“Halt… er… oh, it’s you, Lady Emberglow,” one of the guards said, sliding his spear from a challenge to a resting position. “Sorry, we didn’t expect to see you dressed in civilian clothing. Go on in.”

“Do you know if the marines are on liberty tonight?” Emberglow asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Most of them are out… uh…”

“Drinking?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard replied nervously.

“Do you know where I can find Corporal Gearsmith? Or Private Gadget?” she asked.

“Gearsmith has a dive bar he likes to frequent when he’s in town. I can tell you the address if you like,” the guard said. He sounded reluctant to send Emberglow to a pirate town dive bar. “Gadget is in her workshop. Let me give you directions.”

Gadget’s workshop was in the basement of the building that housed Emberglow’s office. Some clever pony had painted a sign on the door that read ‘Welcome to Engineering. If you touch the tools without permission, you will be shot with extreme prejudice’. The sign also contained a cartoonish painting of two cheerfully smiling light blue earth ponies, a stallion with black hair and a mare with blonde. The door was slightly ajar, and the sounds of a hammer on metal echoed from the crack. Emberglow reached up and knocked on the door, which shook slightly under the force of her hoof.

“Come in, but it better be good! I’ve just about figured out how to…” the speech stopped as Emberglow pushed the door open and stepped into the workshop.

She had expected organized chaos, the cliché for brilliant engineers. That was far from the truth, however. Tools were not in jumbled piles about the room, but instead hung from carefully labeled hooks, dozens of them, bolted into the walls. There were four worktables, one on each long wall and a short one to the right of the door. Each one had a table covering made of paper, with a roll of paper bolted next to the table. Gadget had rolled the paper over the table and used the surface to label each device, each piece of hardware, and each component that was laid out on the various tables. Everything had an outline on the paper drawn in black marker. The tables were covered but not cluttered. Emberglow was utterly fascinated by the hundreds of tiny screws, gears, and mechanisms labeled on the table, though she couldn’t even begin to say what each one was.

Gadget herself sat in a stool, a well-loved padded one with a lever on the side that adjusted the height, and four rolling wheels on the bottom that provided mobility. She wore a pair of dark goggles that rested uselessly on her forehead, just above her eyes, and a thick apron over her uniform. She turned to see who was entering, levering off of the desk she sat in front of with one rear hoof, turning by twisting the stool rather than her torso. She was obviously not expecting to see Emberglow, because she let out a yelp of surprise, nearly falling off her stool as she spun.

“Oh, uh, hi. Sorry. Um,” she stood up, brushing metal shavings off of the apron she wore and fidgeting with her goggles for a second before she could gather herself. “Can I help you, Lady Emberglow?”

“I hope so,” Emberglow said, smiling. “Sir Delver gave us Knights the night off. I was hoping there was somepony that could show me what ponies do for fun in this town.”

“Me?” Gadget asked, surprised. Emberglow nearly laughed.

“If you’re interested,” she replied. Gadget finally smiled back.

“No offense, but I don’t think you’re ready for this town’s kind of fun, Lady Emberglow,” the marine said. “I’m sure we could find something that could cater to your fancy, capital city high society tastes, though.” Emberglow snorted.

“Aren’t you from the capital as well?” Emberglow asked. Gadget waved a hoof dismissively.

“Doesn’t count. My hometown is the military, now,” she said. “So. Fun, but a safe for Knights fun. That’s a conundrum.”

“Really?” Emberglow asked, aware she was being teased, but far too amused by the charming mare to be upset about it. “The only things interesting to do in this town are borderline sinful?”

“Of course not,” Gadget said, seriously. “Do you drink?” She stood from her stool, and removed her goggles and apron. She hung both items from empty hooks on the wall, each one labeled.

“Not much,” Emberglow said honestly. “I’ve never really seen the appeal in getting drunk.”

“Me neither, but a nice buzz is okay,” Gadget said. “C’mon. I know a place you might like. Do you enjoy music?”

“I think so?” Emberglow answered, and Gadget grinned. She didn’t take much time to get ready, though she did remove her apron and goggles. Emberglow didn’t mind; she did have to frantically distract herself when she caught herself thinking about how good the other mare looked in the military’s blue and gold. With her mind firmly planted on mentally reciting some of her favorite scriptures from the Book of the Saints, (Chapter 6, Verses 12-13: Obey your betters with exactness, for the Saints will not allow them to lead you astray. If you follow faithfully, you are blameless of their imperfections) she followed after the earth pony to a wood and stucco structure with the brassy sounds of lively music spilling out of the open door and windows. The music was unfamiliar, up tempo and jazzy, with a soft, pulsing percussion line. A lit sign over the door named it ‘Live Note’.

The building was a happy medium between shabby and well-kept, which was part of its charm. The two mares stepped inside. The first thing Emberglow saw was a stage, the most well-lit part of the bar. Two earth ponies and a griffon, of all things, stood on stage. One pony was playing an upright bass, not with a bow but with his hooves, slapping at the strings in a way that created a percussive foundation for the music. The other earth pony sat on a stool as he played a saxophone. The griffon sat behind a set of drums, playing his instruments with brushes rather than drumsticks.

The rest of the bar was only under muted light except for the bar, drawing the focus of the patrons onto the stage. There was mostly ponies in the half full bar, but three griffon hens sat at a table by themselves, sending gazes that could either be predatory or lustful at the drummer on stage.

“C’mon. Let’s sit at the bar,” Gadget said. The bartender was a large earth pony, grey and a little shaggy, with a huge beard and moustache. The two mares sat down on the barstools, and the bartender moved over.

“Evening, Private,” he said. “How many drinks tonight?”

“Two for me, two for my friend,” Gadget replied. “A Perfect Pear for me to start, and what would you like to drink?”

“Uh…” Emberglow stared at her friend. “I have no idea. I told you I don’t drink much. You pick.”

“Two Perfect Pears, then,” Gadget said. She paid the bartender enough bits for four drinks, and the shaggy grey earth pony hustled off to start dusting a pair of coupe glasses with sugar. Emberglow watched, fascinated.

“You pay for your drinks beforehand?” she asked, curious. Gadget nodded.

“Yeah. I told you I don’t like getting drunk, so I have an arrangement with the bartender. I plan out exactly how many drinks I’m going to have, pay for them all in advance, and instruct the bartender not to sell me any drinks after that. He also makes sure I drink some water in between each drink, to reduce the risk of hangover.”

“That’s… really sensible and medically sound.” Emberglow was impressed. “I like it. So what did I order?”

“Perfect Pear. One of my favorite drinks. Pretty sweet and sugary, so I hope you like that.” Gadget said, and Emberglow nodded. Sweet was fine.

She watched the bartender squeeze a lemon and an orange into a shaker, added some syrup and some liquid from a bottle labeled 'pear brandy', and then shook it all with some ice. He poured the liquid into the glasses, sugar sparkling on the rim, before sliding the two stemmed glasses over to the mares. Emberglow reached out to pick up the glass by the stem, surprised to find that the glass itself was chilled. She lifted the cocktail to her lips and sipped. Immediately her tongue came alive with the sugar on the rim, followed by the sweet acidity of the juice and the alcoholic burn of the brandy. She liked it.

“What do you think?” Gadget asked, sipping on her own cocktail. Emberglow grinned and nodded, trying not to cough as the burn hit her throat. Gadget noticed, and giggled. “Glad you like it.”

The two ponies went silent and listened to the music. This was a very different experience than listening to the tinny sounds of jazz coming from the speakers of a radio. Emberglow didn’t have much experience with this kind of music, or any music, for that matter. There was something raw and unpolished about the playing going on up on stage, and Emberglow didn’t see any sheet music. She’d heard that most jazz was improvised. The whole idea was fascinating to her; how could you possibly play music that you’re making up on the spot? And have it harmonize so well with other musicians? It was like magic. No, not like magic. It was magic, just a different kind than she was used to. She sipped at her drink while the music filled her ears and her soul. Gadget looked relaxed and peaceful as well, and though she was faced away from the stage towards the bar, her ears were twisted back towards the music.

“It’s a little surprising to me that you’re a jazz mare,” Emberglow said softly after a few minutes. Gadget smirked. “Somepony as detail-oriented and technically minded as you? I thought you’d be a classical music person.” It was what Emberglow herself enjoyed. Classical music was logical. It was analytical. It was math and science, translated into pitch, rhythm, and melody.

“I do enjoy big orchestra music sometimes,” Gadget asked. “There’s just something so wonderful about live music for me. We’re experiencing not a recording, but a moment in time that will never happen again. That’s incredible to me.”

“This is what you do for fun, then?” Emberglow asked.

“Sometimes,” Gadget said. “Sometimes I just fix things, do gun maintenance and upgrades, that sort of thing. That’s my special talent, after all.” Emberglow was going to ask about the mare’s cutie mark, but that felt a little too intimate…

Suddenly, the entire situation felt too intimate. The bar, the lighting, the warm glow of the alcohol as it slid through her veins, the closeness of the other mare, the endearing messiness of her mane, the cute little flush she had as the alcohol took effect, all made Emberglow uncomfortable. Was this a date? Her stomach clenched with fear.

No.

Not a date.

“You okay?” Gadget asked, her hoof on Emberglow’s shoulder. The sudden contact made Emberglow jerk away, breathing hard. Her ears twitched nervously, though the sudden hurt she saw on Gadget’s face brought her up short.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I am. Sorry,” Emberglow said. Gadget’s expression was skeptical, her look pleading for more explanation. Emberglow shook her head, breathing deeply as her mind sloshed through the swamp of guilt and shame. What had she been thinking? What should she do? Should she leave, and risk insulting her new friend? What was it about this mare that made her feel like she had no control?

“Do you need to go?” Gadget asked, reaching out with a hoof again but stopping just before contact. Did she? She probably should. She should just tell Gadget why, too. The other mare would surely understand.

“No. No, I’ll be fine,” she lied. Gadget looked worried, but she nodded.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked. No, she did not want to talk about it. Not a chance. She took another deep, calming breath, burying it all as deep as she could. She hid it behind her drink, sipping at the fruity, citrusy concoction. Her ears slid back as she shook her head.

“No. I’m sorry. Just forget it, okay?” she said softly. Gadget shrugged, looking away, and Emberglow felt like she’d been hit in the gut. But this was better, right? Create some distance? It hurt, though, when she looked at the profile of the mare next to her, turned slightly away, Gadget’s eyes distant and focused away from her, on stage. The earth pony’s body language was a little chilly. Emberglow sighed, and reached out with her own hoof to gently rest on the other mare’s shoulder. Gadget turned to look at her, her expression unreadable.

“Look, I’ve got some drama going on in my head, but it’s nothing to do with you, okay? It’s not your fault, and I don’t want you feeling bad because of anything I’ve got going on in my own head. You’ve been a good friend, taking me out tonight like this, and I really appreciate it,” she said. Gadget nodded, looking mollified, and both mares turned back to listen to the music in silence, the former coolness somewhat evaporated.

Soon enough their drinks were finished, and as Gadget had promised, the bartender brought them both a glass of cool water. The band on stage rotated out from a trio to a quartet, this time with two saxophones, a trumpet, and a drummer.

“There’s a few different bands that play here,” Gadget commented idly, breaking the silence that had built up between them. Her voice had just the slightest hint of coolness. “The owner always makes sure the music is live, which sometimes means the quality slips. But that’s okay.” Emberglow thought about it, and decided she was right. The new band began playing, and they perhaps weren’t as good, or as polished, as the trio that had come before them, but it didn’t matter. The music became a part of the character of the place, as much a part of the atmosphere as the oxygen she was breathing, and the smells of alcohol and ponies.

Soon after the second band started, a group of six rowdy earth ponies, dressed in civilian sailor attire, tumbled off the street into the bar, radiating the scent of cheap booze and seawater. The bartender gave them a sour look, but said nothing as he sent a waiter to their table to take their drink orders. Emberglow tried to tune them out as she listened to the music. A moment later, however, the same waiter approached Emberglow and Gadget.

“Excuse me, ladies. The ‘gentlestallions’ over at that table have offered to buy the both of you drinks, and would like to invite you to join them,” the waiter said, rolling his eyes. Emberglow could practically see the air quotes as he spoke.

“Wow. Really?” Gadget giggled. She looked past the waiter to the drunken sailors, who leered at the two mares and motioned with their hooves for them to come over. One was even brave enough to call out.

“C’mon, soldier girl! Don’t you like to party?” he called out. Gadget shook her head, and Emberglow snorted.

“Do you think it bothers them that they’ve become a walking literary cliché?” Emberglow asked her friend, and Gadget laughed. “I mean, the whole drunk sailor hitting on cute mares thing. It’s so silly.”

“Yeah, but let them down easy, okay?” Gadget said to the waiter. “No sense insulting the idiots, even if a hoof to the face could do them some good.”

“Will do, ma’am,” the waiter said with a small professional smile. “If they get much rowdier, or won’t take no for an answer, we’ll see them out.”

“I know. That’s why I like this bar,” Gadget said as the waiter moved off to politely refuse the offer of drinks. The sailors protested loudly, but didn’t say anything else to the mares, though Emberglow heard some suspicious invectives that rhymed with ‘stitch’ and ‘punt’.

It was easy enough to ignore, however, especially when the bartender came to ask for their second drink order. Gadget asked for the same drink with a shrug and a smile, and Emberglow asked for the bartender’s recommendation. The shaggy earth pony grinned and trotted away; apparently that had been the right thing to ask. She watched, interested, as he pulled out a hammered brass mug, added some ice, and poured a shot glass full of clear alcohol over the ice. He then popped open a bottle of something carbonated, mixed it with the ice and alcohol, and garnished the whole thing with a lime wedge.

“This is called a Stalliongrad Mule,” he told her. “What do you think?”

Emberglow sipped the cold drink carefully. it was sweet, and she could just taste the alcohol over the flavors of lime and ginger. Her eyes went wide when she felt the spice hit the back of her throat.

“It’s spicy!” she exclaimed out loud. Gadget smiled in amusement.

“Too much?” the bartender asked.

“No, I like it.” Emberglow went back for another sip, enjoying the play of the sweet, tart, and spicy flavors, all carried on the bubbly carbonation of the drink. She shared a smile with Gadget. “I think you might have another regular customer.” The bartender smirked as he went to take care of his other customers.

The two mares relaxed into a comfortably superficial conversation as they felt the glow of the alcohol fill them. Emberglow asked Gadget about her work, and about the other adventures she’d had hunting pirates around the Port. The earlier awkwardness was casting the slightest chill over their evening, and Emberglow found herself mourning the distance that now grew between them, even while feeling relieved at the safety.

The hour disappeared before either one of them knew it, and both their second drink and their second glass of cool water had disappeared in no time. Even the drunk pirates had left finally, with a few scornful looks at the two mares. Emberglow and Gadget were preparing to leave, saying their goodbyes and leaving an extra tip for the bartender when a soft voice interrupted them from behind.

“I am sorry to bother you ponies,” the lightly accented voice said, and the two of them turned to see the same griffon who had been playing the drums in the first band. Emberglow eyed him suspiciously. “I wished to pass on a warning. After my set on stage, I joined the audience. I’m afraid I may have overheard a conversation between some ponies that may intend you harm.”

“What?” Emberglow asked dangerously, leaning towards the griffon threateningly. Griffons were violent, bestial creatures, after all. She had to be careful. “What are you talking about?”

“The drunken ship ponies seemed rather upset at rejection, but they knew they’d get kicked out. Unless their drunken boasts were just that, I believe they might intend the two of you harm.”

“What’s your angle, then?” Emberglow asked warily, and the griffon shrugged.

“No angle. I just thought you should know. Do with that what you will,” he said with a shrug of his wings. He turned to leave, and Emberglow called out.

“Wait!” she said, and the griffon looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, I guess,” she said. The griffon shrugged again, walking out the open door and taking wing into the night.

“Would you like me to summon the constables?” the bartender asked. Emberglow shook her head.

“We can defend ourselves,” she said simply. Gadget nodded.

“Your friend is a marine too?” he asked. Emberglow nearly laughed.

“Something like that,” she said. “I can fight if I need to.” If she weren’t a match for a few drunken sailors, what kind of Knight was she?

“Okay, if you insist,” the stallion said, clearly not reassured.

The two mares stepped out into the street. The sun was set, and the soft dirt of the street was illuminated by a half moon and a sprinkling of gas powered lamps on posts spaced throughout the neighborhood. Very few ponies or other creatures were out and about.

“Perfect night for an ambush, don’t you think?” Gadget asked conversationally. Emberglow laughed.

“Perfect,” she replied. “So you believe the griffon?”

“Can’t hurt to be prepared,” Gadget shrugged. “Besides, beating the crap out of some idiot drunk stallions would be the perfect icing on the cake at the end of a great day.” Emberglow tried to ignore the thrill she felt in her heart when the other mare said the day had been great, instead focusing on the nervous waver in Gadget’s voice. She had to remind herself that Gadget wasn’t a Knight like she was, and though she might have more experience, Emberglow had better training and magical enhancements. “Where to?”

“I’ll walk you back to the barracks, then fly home to The Turtle. None of the idiots were pegasi, so I’ll be fine. I just want to make sure you’re safe first.”

“Aw, thanks,” Gadget gushed in a silly voice, causing both mares to giggle as they trotted towards the barracks. It was only a few blocks before the telltale sounds of somepony following behind echoed in their ears.

“Really?” Emberglow whispered. “Are they really that stupid?”

“Some ponies just don’t like to hear ‘no’,” Gadget replied. “What’s the plan?”

“If you can keep everypony off my back, I should be fine. I’ll focus on taking down individuals as quickly as possible to even the odds, so the most help you can be is to keep them from swarming me. If you see an exit, take it and run. If you’re clear, I can get airborne.”

“Okay,” Gadget said, psyching herself up. “Okay,” she repeated. “We got this. Sorry, Lady Emberglow. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a fight without my dad.” The uneven hoofsteps behind them were closing in, and as the two mares approached the next block they saw three of the sailor ponies up ahead, waiting at a street corner.

“Let’s give them an out, shall we?” Emberglow asked. “Last chance to make a good choice, stallions.” She crossed the street casually, with Gadget following. The three sailors crossed as well to intercept them.

“Hey! Hey you mares! Still don’t want to party with us?” one of them called out, laughing, his voice slurred with intoxication. Emberglow flinched with annoyance; at least one of the ponies ahead had a weapon, a long, thick club held casually against his shoulder in one hoof.

“Pretty sure we already answered that question,” Emberglow called out with more confidence than she felt. Her hooves felt full of nervous energy, her wings twitching to spread out and launch her into the air. Fight or flight indeed, she thought. But there was no way she was going to take to the air while her companion was earthbound.

“We was hoping you’d reconsider,” the shouter slurred. He was a purple earth pony, with the bulging muscles of somepony who lifted heavy things for a living.

“Not a chance,” Emberglow replied, still a ways off. “You’re making a mistake, sir. Last chance to pull out and save yourself some broken bones.” Even before the threat left her lips, she knew he wouldn’t back down. The other stallions laughed, a sound that was joined by the hoofsteps and laughter from behind as the other three closed the trap around the mares. Emberglow flared out her wings, and Gadget gasped.

“Gonna run, and leave us alone with that sweet treat?” the leader asked with a leer, and Emberglow lunged, using her wings to push herself forwards with a burst of force. She lamented the lack of her rune gauntlet or her armor, but regret was worthless. Her dash took her not to the leader, but to his side, right next to the pony with the club. He spun his weapon around with a surprised curse, but Emberglow planted her front hooves, letting her momentum spin her body around so that her back hooves were lined up for a powerful buck. She coiled her forehooves and thrust out with all the force her magically enhanced body could muster, impacting the pony in the chest just as his club began to descend against her unprotected flanks. The stallion let out an ‘oof’, dropping the club as he sprawled sideways onto the dirt street. The whole maneuver was not nearly as graceful as Emberglow had intended, slowed by her own slight alcoholic impairment, but from the crunch of the impact and the whimper of pain, she knew she’d probably reduced her foes from six to five.

She stumbled a bit, taking a precious second to regain balance and to regret her second drink as the other ponies came to their senses and began to close in on her. She spun to face the leader, the huge purple earth pony who had spoken, just as Gadget sidled up to her flank, facing the three coming from behind.

“What do you…” the purple sailor began, stepping towards her menacingly. Emberglow might not look it, but she knew her enhancements made her stronger than nearly all unenhanced earth ponies. Still, the wall of muscle in front of her would take a bit to go down, so she couldn’t simply use a brute force buck like she did on his club-wielding flunky. With another flap of her wings, she lunged at him, trying to keep her momentum and the element of surprise as long as she could. But instead of a tackle or another buck, Emberglow had another target in mind.

The story of a fight is written by the pony that wins the fight, echoed Lady Amaranth’s voice in her head. You may have read foals tales about honor duels, one on one challenges, and stuff like that. That’s not what a real battle is. Your goal is to win and live, and protect anypony innocent. Anything you need to do to accomplish that is fair game. Emberglow went low, sliding her hooves in the loose dirt and throwing a cloud up at the surprised purple stallion. He coughed and spat, flailing out wildly with his front hooves, landing one lucky glancing blow just below Emberglow’s left ear. She ignored the pain; it was mild. Her hoof lashed out and caught the flailing stallion right on the jaw.

It felt like she was punching a wall. She’d been hoping for a crunch of bone, but got nothing more than a stumble and a curse of pain from the earth pony as he backed away from her. His other flunky recovered his wits and dashed in to help the big purple stallion. This sailor was green, and had an eyepatch. He reared up, intending to stomp down on Emberglow just as she was striking at his leader. She barely managed to roll out of the way, his hooves slamming into the dirt as she rolled onto her side out of reach. The slight buzz she had managed from her two drinks was managing to slow her down enough to make her regret not taking the bartender up on his offer to fetch the police.

“Emberglow? They’ve got knives!” Gadget called out, sounding worried. Emberglow spared a glance. Sure enough, two of the ponies rushing them from behind carried short knives in their teeth. Emberglow was grateful there was no magic or unicorns or even pegasi to worry about in this fight, but the presence of blades was troubling. She’d have to be careful.

“Think I can fly you out of here?” she asked jokingly, and Gadget snorted.

“That a crack about my weight?” Gadget asked as she dodged the first clumsy slash of a sailor’s blade. The sailor Emberglow had just dodged lunged at her in a full tackle, his forehooves spread wide to try and grapple her. She couldn’t roll out of the way in time, and the muscled sailor’s hooves wrapped around her in a crushing, violent hug.

This was by far much closer to a drunk, sweaty stallion than she had ever wanted to get. His breath was hot against her neck as he tried to bite at her face, an action she rewarded with a swift head butt to the jaw. It hurt like Tartarus, a sharp sting against her forehead where she had impacted with one of his teeth, but his hooves loosened enough for her to get her own hooves free, and slam them both into his dazed face.

A sharp cry of pain from Gadget drew Emberglow’s attention. A narrow gash of red sliced through the foreleg of Gadget’s uniform. The cut looked shallow, but as Gadget tried to back away she was favoring her wounded leg. Emberglow gave one last quick punch to the stallion she’d just knocked off her, right to his head, before spreading her wings and launching herself into the air.

It wasn’t true flight, just a wing-assisted leap nearly two pony lengths into the air. She descended on the pony that had just cut Gadget. He yelped in surprise as she dropped, angling his blade upwards just as she landed hooves first on his back and head. She felt the burn of the cut as he sliced along the underside of her barrel, the blade going deeper than she had hoped. At least the color of her blouse will hide the bleeding.

Both of them fell in a tumble of tangled limbs. Emberglow tried to free herself, but the earth pony had ended up partially on top of one of her hind hooves. She tried to jerk it free as two more sailors, one with a knife, approached from behind. She only had a second’s warning and Gadget’s scream of dismay as she tried to spin away from the attacking ponies.

Their salvation came with near complete silence, and absolutely no warning. In one moment, a pony with a knife was about to introduce her innards to the night air. In the next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, moaning, his knife dropped and his hooves wrapped around his broken ribs. Out of nowhere, a cream colored blur had galloped, head first, into the knife wielding sailor. The surprise new combatant was also in the dirt on the ground, also moaning in pain as she clutched her head.

“Bubblegum!” Emberglow cried out, too pleased at the rescue to be annoyed at Bubblegum’s presence. “What are you wearing?”

It was a pretty lame thing to ask in the middle of a fight, but it was probably a valid question. The mare’s outfit was, in a word, impractical. Black velvet covered the mare from head to the tips of her forehooves, capped with the frilliest of curly white lace. A voluminous skirt, ruffled and also lined with just as much white lace, was now getting caked in the dirt that filled the road. The skirt itself was held up with a bustle, a fact that Emberglow realized only because Bubblegum’s silly maneuver had cracked the wood, which now hung awkwardly around her flanks. The whole ensemble was topped by a miniature hat, pinned into Bubblegum’s mane because it was far too small to be worn normally.

Emberglow finally managed to roll the slumped pony off her leg. The remaining thugs were now circling to assess this new threat, moving slowly and clumsily. Bubblegum managed to stumble to her hooves, reaching up to her mane and removing her hat pin. The beautiful black hat, decorated with white flowers, drifted into the dirt as Bubblegum brandished the long, sharp hat pin at the large purple earth pony sailor. The cream colored mare’s face split in a snarl, her teeth clenched in rage.

“This way, officers. They’re assaulting some mares over here!” a stallion’s voice called out overhead. Emberglow looked up to see the dark form of Wind Storm, Bubblegum’s husband, flying above them. The two sailors that still stood looked up, panicked, and galloped off down the street. Neither one bothered to assist their fellows, though each one eventually stumbled to his hooves and followed after their cowardly friends. Wind Storm called out a few more times, following after the stallions.

“Officers?” Emberglow asked, when nopony showed up to Wind Storm’s calls. Bubblegum grinned.

“Bluff,” she said, stumbling over to where Emberglow stood. Her gait was unsteady, and as the other Knight leaned in to inspect Emberglow’s wound, Emberglow realized it was more than the head injury she’d probably given herself with her ridiculous maneuver. Bubblegum reeked of alcohol. She tried to push the drunk mare away as Bubblegum nosed at her side, trying to better inspect Emberglow’s wound.

“I’m fine, check on Gadget,” Emberglow insisted, but the drunk Knight Adamant growled and shoved Emberglow onto her plot.

“Windy?” she called out. “Windy, can you find a doctor?” Bubblegum looked at Emberglow and giggled drunkenly. “I mean a different doctor than this doctor. A not this doctor doctor.”

“I told you, I’m not…” Emberglow began, but with a sly grin, Bubblegum poked at the wet spot on Emberglow’s crimson blouse. Emberglow hissed in pain, leading Bubblegum to nod sagely. Fumbling a bit, the Adamant ripped open the blouse, ignoring Emberglow’s protests to reveal a deep, bleeding wound. Bubblegum looked around, her gaze shifting from her own dress, to Emberglow’s simpler skirt. With a shrug, she took up one of the sailor’s discarded knives and began cutting strips off of Emberglow’s skirt.

“What are you… oh,” Emberglow began. She was feeling a bit lightheaded, and not just from her residual buzz. She watched Bubblegum’s fumbling motions as she tore enough of Emberglow’s skirt in order to create a compress.

“Hold that there,” she said gently, her voice slurring. Emberglow complied, nodding silently, a bit surprised that the drunken mare seemed to know anything at all about first aid. Gadget moved over, her face worried. She was limping, but her wound was not even bleeding, though the sleeve of her uniform was wet. “Windy!” she shouted again. The pegasus stallion landed nearby.

“Sorry. I was just making sure they didn’t loop back around,” he said. “Everything okay?” He didn’t sound nearly as drunk as Bubblegum.

“We need a doctor,” Bubblegum said. “I don’t know heal spells, and I don’t have my rune gauntlet anyways.”

“Turquoise knows some,” Emberglow gasped. Now that the adrenaline was receding, she was really feeling the slice in her barrel. “She’ll be quicker. She’s back at The Turtle, writing letters.”

“On it,” Wind Storm said, and with a spring of his legs, he launched himself into the air.

“You do this,” Bubblegum said to Gadget, motioning at her hooves holding the compress on Emberglow’s wound. “I’m all wobbly.”

“I can see that, Lady Bubblegum,” Gadget said wryly, and she moved up to the other mare to take her place holding the compress on the knife wound.

“Heh. I saved you both,” Bubblegum said, grinning widely. “Saved you in the middle of your date.” Emberglow and Gadget found each other’s gaze. Emberglow was sure that her expression was just as terrified as Gadget’s.

“It wasn’t a date,” she asserted with a wince, and Gadget nodded.

“Told you I don’t care,” Bubblegum said as she tried to sit down in the road. She realized her now broken bustle was in the way, and with a grunt of annoyance, managed to rip the entire ensemble, cloth and structure and all, off of her dress completely. She didn’t seem to care that it exposed an indecent amount of pale fur, fishnet stockings, and even the hints of whatever lacy black underthings she had on underneath. Once that was settled, she curled her legs underneath her and rested her head on the ground. “Wake me up if you need me.”

A few minutes later Turquoise arrived at a gallop, with Wind Storm close behind. She wasn’t wearing her armor, but had put on just the rune gauntlet and power supply.

“What in Tartarus happened here?” she cried out. Bubblegum let out a loud snore as response.

“We were attacked by some drunken thugs, Lady Turquoise. We thought we could fight them off, but there were a few too many. Emberglow could have just taken off flying if I hadn’t…”

“Oh, hush,” Turquoise said, holding a hoof up to Gadget’s lips. “I’ll take care of this.” Gadget and Emberglow both watched with interest as Turquoise cast the complex runes of one of the most basic healing spells. It wouldn’t replace any of the lost blood, but it would seal the wound. “Move out of the way, please.” She worded it politely, but it was an order nonetheless. Gadget took her hooves away, and blood oozed from the cloth compress.

It was rare for Emberglow to be on the other end of a healing spell. She watched as Turquoise skillfully drew the runes in the air, her hoof trailing glowing greenish light. It hurt her pride a bit, maybe, to be healed by another pony, especially one who might not be as naturally talented as she was, but Emberglow was in no condition to doctor herself. Besides, healing spells never worked on the pony who was casting them.

She relaxed as she felt the healing magic fill her wound. It was an uncomfortable tingle, an itch that burned around the wound as her flesh re-knit itself in seconds rather than weeks. She let out a gasp of discomfort and pain, but she knew enough about her own business to not try and touch or clutch at her wound. Turquoise might not be as skilled as she at healing spells, but the Knight Jubilant knew what she was doing. The older mare touched her hoof gently along the wound, and Emberglow felt the acid sting of healing magic as it slid deep, mending tissue much farther in than the surface. Emberglow tried to breathe deeply, remembering her training: a simple healing only took as long as three deep breaths. It felt longer as the pain knifed in her side.

“Done,” Turquoise said, smiling gently. “Now would somepony tell me what the buck happened in a little bit more detail this time?”

Gadget looked terrified, nervously glancing at Turquoise, and Bubblegum was still drooling into the dirt. Wind Storm shrugged, looking at Emberglow. She sighed and told the story from the beginning, leaving out the bits about her paralyzing guilt and near anxiety attack. It didn’t feel good to share the entire story; Emberglow burned with new guilt. It was her fault that Gadget had been in danger. She had overestimated her own strength, her own capabilities.

“We should have taken the barkeep’s offer,” Emberglow confessed. “I was the one who decided we could take six drunk idiots. All this is my fault.” Turquoise eyed her critically, and Emberglow found herself shrinking under her former mentor’s gaze. “Gadget, I’m so sorry.”

“But…” Gadget began, and Turquoise held up a hoof again. Gadget stepped back, respectfully nodding her head to the Knight.

“You’re not completely wrong to blame yourself for your overconfidence,” Turquoise said slowly. “But you remember what Lady Dash said after her failure to stop the breaking dam?”

“Share your victories with your friends, and lean on them in your weakness. Your friends will show you how to turn failure into strength,” Emberglow quoted automatically. Turquoise nodded.

“You made a mistake, but can you learn from it?” Turquoise asked. “Did you ever read Garnet Passion’s treatise on combat tactics?”

“No,” Emberglow said, mentally filing away the author’s name for future perusal.

“The best battle is one that never happens. If you can afford to avoid a confrontation, you should,” Turquoise quoted. Emberglow hung her head, her ears drooping in shame. “C’mon, none of that. Learn from your mistakes, and lean on your friends for strength.” She pulled Emberglow to her hooves, patting her gently on the back. “Literally, in this case. Lean on me until we get home. Wind Storm, can you see to your wife? I’m not sure I really want to leave you both alone out here.”

“She’s just dozing,” Wind Storm said. “One sec.” He shook his wife, whose eyes jerked wide as she tried to stand in a single motion, tumbling back to the dirt when the sudden movement unbalanced her.

“Ow. Everybody okay?” Bubblegum muttered.

“She’ll be fine,” Wind Storm said. “I’ll get her home. You all be safe,” he said.

“Thanks, Wind Storm,” Emberglow said. “Hey, how did you two know we were in trouble?”

“Just happened by,” Bubblegum said unsteadily. “Heard a fight. Wanted in. You just got lucky.” She grinned at her husband. “Or not. I’m gonna get lucky.” Wind Storm blushed, but he didn’t deny the drunken assertion. Turquoise rolled her eyes at the Knight Adamant’s antics.

“We’ll walk Gadget back to the barracks,” Emberglow said. “You’re good to walk?”

“Slowly, yes,” Gadget said.

“Here, let me,” Turquoise said, moving over to the marine and casting a second healing spell. Gadget tensed, but made no sound as the sensations of healing flowed through her wound. She had clearly experienced magical healing before.

The walk back to the barracks was quiet. Emberglow still burned with embarrassment under the shame of her mistake, but leaned against her Knight with resigned weariness. Gadget was quiet, uncomfortable and unwilling to speak up with the other Knight there. This left Turquoise to fill the silence, something she did with all the talent and skill of a trained diplomat. The conversation was light and gentle, though nearly completely one sided, as Gadget remained silent and Emberglow gave exhausted, one word or phrase answers. Finally, they reached the barracks, and Turquoise dismissed Gadget with specific orders to inform Sergeant Arrow what had happened, and that Gadget would be on light duty until the ship departed in a few days.

“None of this is on you, private,” Turquoise said. “If Sergeant Arrow has any questions, she can come see me. You did nothing wrong, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gadget said uncomfortably, before disappearing into the barracks. The two Knights watched her go.

“She did nothing wrong,” Emberglow repeated, her words heavy with implication.

“Stop it. Now. I won’t have you drowning in some stupid guilt spiral. You bucked up, but there was no permanent harm done, and you can learn from it. Now, let’s go home.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said, echoing Gadget, and the two ponies walked off towards The Turtle.

Chapter 13

Letter, sent from Knight Private Emberglow to Knight Lieutenant Lofty Tale

Lofty,

Tomorrow we shove off (that’s a sailing term that means we’re leaving on a ship) to go pirate hunting. I can’t tell you where we’re going (classified and all that) but you probably won’t be getting any letters from me for a few months, at least. Please don’t be alarmed if you don’t hear from me for a while. I will write again as soon as I am able.

Port Luminescence has been a strange experience for me. It is a den of sin and iniquity. Prostitutes blatantly ply their wares on the street corners, and drunken ponies wander the streets, which are made of dirt and mud, not paved. I am told that illicit drugs are readily available for purchase, and the law enforcement officers are complicit in the trade of both intoxicants and sex. Those in charge are either part of the problem or impotent.

At the same time, paradoxically, ponies seem happy. I don’t understand.

I am told that those with deviant ideas and behaviors come to towns like this as a haven from the judgement and punishment that might otherwise fall upon their heads. The other day I saw two stallions kissing. Kissing! In public! At least other aberrant behavior, such as bestiality, is punished severely. The whores at least know to keep their business to their own races, though there are enough of the deviant creatures to cater to each race that lives in town. I asked Turquoise yesterday what would happen if somepony bothered to arrest one of the prostitutes. The answer was disappointing; apparently most of the sex workers in town avoid prosecution by offering their services for free to the arresting officers. There is a sickening fairness to the process; the whores take turns on who will ‘satisfy’ the vice officers each evening, so that nopony has to miss out on too much profit.

I have to confess that I was wounded a few days ago. Nothing severe; I merely overestimated my own capabilities in the face of some thugs that didn’t want to take no for an answer. I will save you the gory details; the fight ended with several fleeing drunks and a bleeding hole in my side. Turquoise fixed me up just fine, and I’m well healed; the only lasting wound was to my pride, both from my mistake at overestimating my own power and by the fact that I was rescued by that frustrating mare I told you about in my last letter. Please don’t mention my wound if you speak with my parents; I am going to be omitting that detail when I write my mother. You know how she worries. I might tell her all the stories when I’m home, safe, in her living room.

Congratulations on your promotion. I am so proud of you, and was so excited to be able to mail this letter to a Knight Lieutenant. Does this mean you get to be an investigator? If so, it sounds nearly as exciting as hunting pirates (I kid). Be safe, and I will write you as soon as I get back from my voyage.

Love, your friend,

Emberglow

1112 AF, South Diarchy Seas

Watching the sun rise over the twinkling waves was an experience Emberglow would never get tired of. Standing on the deck of Lady Elegant as the sky began to glow, Emberglow was struck with both amazement as the very air and clouds above her became her namesake, glowing orange and pink just like the embers of a fire. The ocean, a mirror of dancing jewels, soon became too bright to look at. She did her best to stay out of the sailors' ways as the pony crew did their tasks, her eyes fixed on the rainbow of colors that sparkled before her.

“Lady Emberglow. Anything you need?” a stallion said behind her. Emberglow turned to see the captain behind her, his wings spread out to feel the sea breeze flowing underneath. He saw her gaze and smirked. “Old sea pegasus trick. If the wings feel like they’re moving, the body catches up quicker. If I keep my wings spread as much as I can, I become accustomed to the motion of the waves more quickly. Thus, less seasickness.”

“Got it,” Emberglow said, spreading out her wings and fluffing her feathers. “I’ve just planned on taking seasickness pills until I acclimate,” she admitted with a laugh.

“The other pegasus trick is to simply take wing,” he replied with a grin. “Doesn’t help you acclimate, but it does deal with the immediate symptoms.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Emberglow said. “It hasn’t hit me yet, though.” She looked back at the waves, which were small; the wind was gentle, and the waves barely rocked the large ship.

“I see you noticed the sunrise,” he said. “Talk to Rope Trick, our pony in the crow’s nest. He might let you watch tomorrow’s sunrise from up there. It’s amazing how much of a difference a few dozen yards makes.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, captain,” Emberglow said. She stayed on deck as long as her conscience would allow her to. While it was settling for her roiling stomach, she had other responsibilities than seeing to her own comfort. Reluctantly, she took a deep breath and headed below decks to the galley.

“Good morning, Tangerine!” she called out cheerfully as she trotted into the small galley. The ship’s mess officer, Tangerine, had her back to Emberglow, and was standing over a large, bubbling stockpot.

“Too cheerful!” Tangerine spat, without turning to look. Emberglow giggled. After two weeks at sea, she’d finally learned that the gruff navy mare was really just an adorable grandma pony underneath her tough sailor exterior. “Coffee’s not done, so you’re not allowed to be this happy!”

“Need any help?” Emberglow asked as she moved over to the wrinkled sailor. Tangerine spared her a grateful glance and motioned to a cutting board on a nearby table. There was a large pile of dried strawberries on top.

“Strawberry porridge?” Emberglow asked.

“Good source of ascorbic acid,” Tangerine said. “Chop ‘em up for me so they release their flavor better.” Emberglow nodded and went to work.

Emberglow loved the time she spent in the galley, even though it often made her seasickness worse. Tangerine was a wealth of practical information and salty sailor anecdotes, at least after she’d had her coffee. Their first meeting had been awkward; Emberglow, as a Knight, was technically the highest ranking medical officer onboard Lady Elegant and thus in charge of the health and nutrition of both sailors and marines, but Tangerine was far more experienced in the practical realities of ship life. It had taken several days for Emberglow to make the crusty old sailor mare understand that Emberglow was no threat to her position or her experienced authority.

“Here,” Tangerine grunted, sliding a mug over to Emberglow. She could smell the sharp tang of lemon and bergamot. While it had been tragically heartbreaking to give up her morning coffee, tea simply settled her stomach much better.

“You are a blessing from the Saints,” Emberglow moaned as she sipped at the hot liquid. Tangerine’s facade of gruffness cracked long enough for a laugh. “Thank you.”

Emberglow finished her task and was dumping the strawberries into the large porridge pot when a cry echoed down from above decks. After a few weeks on board, Emberglow was growing used to recognizing Rope Trick’s shouts. Tangerine and Emberglow shared a look, and Emberglow nodded and dashed out of the galley. Her duties as a Knight superseded her job helping Tangerine oversee the health of the sailors.

Once on deck, she sought out Delver, who was standing by the ship’s rail and looking off into the horizon with the captain.

“What did Rope Trick see?” Emberglow asked.

“Another ship,” Delver said.

“Pirates?” Emberglow felt a surge of excitement.

“No. A derelict, barely floating,” Captain Stratus said. “We’re going to draw closer to check it out. I was going to ask Feldspar to fly over and take a look.” Feldspar was the only pegasus on Lady Elegant’s crew. “Do you mind going with him, Lady Emberglow?” In response, Emberglow nodded and spread her wings.

There was a grim silence among the sailors as they approached the wrecked vessel. It became clear as they grew closer that there was no life on the shattered ship’s corpse. Soon enough the ship was close enough to make out a few brightly colored spots among the charred and broken wood; pony bodies, most still dressed in Diarchy naval uniforms, sprawled out like broken toys discarded by a negligent toddler. Emberglow felt the bile rise in her throat.

“Feldspar, Lady Emberglow is going to join you,” Captain Stratus said to the brown pegasus that flapped over. “I need the two of you to see if you can figure out what happened. Take a pencil and a scroll; try to write down the cutie marks of any of the deceased.”

“Why would we…” Emberglow began, then swallowed and shook her head, horrified. “Right…”

“You ready, Lady Emberglow?” Feldspar asked deferentially after Captain Stratus gave Emberglow a pencil and a scroll. Emberglow swallowed and nodded, trying to keep her nausea in check. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen dead bodies before; she’d dissected corpses back in medical school, after all. But the cadavers in school had died of age or disease, not murder on the high seas. They’d smelled of formaldehyde, not the sickly sweet stench that she could already…

“One moment,” Emberglow yelped in panic, lunging over to the railing just in time to expel the tea she’d managed to drink, as well as whatever was left in her stomach from last night’s meal. None of the other ponies said anything, and Feldspar politely waited for her to finish. After a few painful, stomach-cramping moments, she finally nodded to him, and the two pegasi took to the air, though Emberlgow wobbled slightly as she flew over to the wrecked ship.

“Can you see a name?” Feldspar called out. Emberglow shook her head. There was no figurehead, either, nor was there anything else to identify the ship. It was a smaller vessel, a single master, though the mast in question was shattered at its base and toppled onto the ship’s deck. Snapped stays and lines spread out over the charred deck like the limp noodles. What remained of the sails was scraps of charred canvas, and among the rubble were a dozen corpses.

The pegasi landed on the deck of the ship, which shifted drunkenly on the waves. Emberglow steeled herself to look around at the remains of the sailors around her.

“If you want, I can help to identify the sailors,” Feldspar said. “You just write down what I tell you, okay?”

Suddenly Emberglow burned with shame. This was her job, not his. She was the medical officer here. The sailor’s protective instinct was well-meaning, but she had to handle this herself.

“No, it’s my job,” she forced out. “You look around, see if you can tell what happened. Maybe see if there’s any salvage worth having?” Her hooves were shaking as she carefully approached the first corpse, an earth pony stallion splashed with dried blood. She breathed shallowly through her nose, losing her thoughts in her training as she examined the body.

The death had happened only a few days ago, given the state of decay. Cause of death was most likely the smattering of bullet wounds across his chest and barrel. She managed to peel back his uniform pants enough to note down his cutie mark, which was a dolphin breaching above a rough sea. She pulled out the scroll and noted a quick description of his cutie mark and his colors, to report back to the military so they could inform his family.

After the first, the next few identifications became easier, if only because they became rote. Emberglow found herself clinging to the objective distance her medical school teachers had once spoken about between a doctor and their patient. A small part of her hated becoming numb to her task, but she reminded herself it was necessary to perform this last service for her patients.

Meanwhile, Feldspar searched what was left of the ship, returning to report sadly to Emberglow that there was nothing worth salvaging. A storm, or even a few really tall waves, would probably break up the ship enough for it to finally finish sinking, and all the supplies had been looted. Eventually Emberglow agreed to let him finish identifying the rest of the bodies, before the two pegasi took to the air and flew back to Lady Elegant.

“Thank you for doing that, Lady Emberglow,” Captain Stratus said with a salute when she landed on deck. “The families of those who died here will appreciate having some closure, thanks to you.” Emberglow accepted his gratitude, but secretly she wanted nothing more than to go hide in her cabin for the next few hours.

For the next few days after Lady Elegant found the wreckage left by the pirates there was a somber gloom, only lifted when Captain Stratus finally ordered an extra two casks of rum cracked open for the entire crew. They drank to the unnamed ship that night.

Three weeks out of Port Luminescence Lady Elegant ran into her first storm. Emberglow was a bit disappointed that all of the non-sailors were banished to their quarters, but it made sense. Emberglow didn’t realize the full extent of the horror, however, until she retreated to her quarters to find Bubblegum already there, nearly vibrating with frustration at their very necessary confinement. Emberglow was alone, with an agitated and twitchy Bubblegum, for hours.

Some nightmares were too horrifying to ever think about, ever again.

After the longest fourteen hours of Emberglow’s life, and a very essential trip to the galley to rehydrate (even though her stomach was in no mood for anything, she knew how dangerous it was to her to lose as much liquid as she had. At least Bubblegum’s robe would never be the same again), she and the other Knights were allowed up on deck to see the state of the ship. The sailors knew their job; the sails were down, and only one of them had to be repaired. Two earth pony sailors were already hard at work patching up the canvas. There were a few minor injuries, and a single broken leg from a pony that had tumbled out of the rigging while trying to furl the sails, landing hard on one hind leg. He was a gruff old sailor type, a cliché straight out of a foal’s tale called Crusty. It probably wasn’t his real name, but it was the only thing anypony on board knew him by. He was cussing a blue streak as Emberglow splinted his leg, seemingly more upset about the work he would miss and the ribbing he would get from his fellow sailors than the intense pain of his broken leg. It was hard for Emberglow to not break down with laughter, as each time Crusty let out a string of swear words, he apologized profusely to the Knight Radiant. Once the broken bone was splinted, Emberglow put on her rune gauntlet and applied the same heal spell that weeks ago Turquoise had cast on her.

“Two weeks light duty. Keep the splint on. I’ve only accelerated the healing process; you’re not ready to go back to full duty just yet,” Emberglow told him. Crusty was still alternating between invective-laden complaints, sincere apologies, and gratitude for Emberglow’s healing. As soon as the door to the office shut behind the earth pony sailor Emberglow finally let out the floodgates of laughter, hoping desperately the old pony wouldn’t hear her. She gave Crusty a few minutes to limp away before going to Captain Stratus to report on the old pony’s work status. She was knocking on the captain’s door when she heard the cry from outside.

“Ship on the horizon!” came the shout from the door that led to the quarter deck. The Captain’s door shot open, and he nodded at Emberglow.

“Sorry, Lady Emberglow. Whatever it is has to wait,” he said, brushing past her as she nodded her acceptance. She hung back enough to give the captain space, following him after a few paces onto the deck. He hadn’t asked her to stay below decks, after all.

As soon as he was outside, Captain Stratus launched himself into flight, gracefully moving in between rigging and masts up to the crow’s nest. Once up there, Emberglow watched him retrieve a collapsing spyglass from his uniform. Unfurling the tool, he raised it to an eye towards a point on the horizon indicated by Rope Trick, the lookout pony who spent most of his time up in the tiny post. Emberglow looked the way they were both looking, but she could see nothing. She was too far away to hear what was said, but she saw the captain pat Rope Trick on the shoulder, before putting his spyglass away and descending to the deck next to Emberglow.

“There’s a ship all right,” he said to her. “Could you please locate your compatriots? Sir Delver would like to know.” Emberglow felt a thrill of excitement; her pulse picked up with both anticipation and fear. She told herself it probably wasn’t the pirates they were hunting, but that didn’t stop the hope and fear that this might be the confrontation they were looking for. She found Delver in his quarters, and quickly rounded up both Turquoise and Bubblegum from the galley. They were more than willing to leave their potato and celery chowder in order to see what the commotion was all about. A few minutes later all four Knights were on deck with the captain and the sergeant.

“It’s not the ship we’re looking for,” the captain announced as soon as all the ponies were assembled. Bubblegum groaned with frustration, but Captain Stratus ignored her, pushing on. “It’s not Black-and-White Beard’s ship, but they are approaching us deliberately. She’s close enough to have seen the Diarchy flag, and she’s bearing no colors, so it’s safe to assume they have hostile or dishonest intentions.”

“So, pirates,” Delver mused. “Just not the pirates we were looking for.”

“Probably not,” the captain agreed.

“What’s the plan then?” Sergeant Arrow asked.

“Um, duh. We smash pirates,” Bubblegum giggled, tapping her hooves in a happy dance against the wooden deck. Delver rolled his eyes but nodded.

“That’s about it, actually,” Delver said. “Our job is to hunt pirates. Knight Command sent us two more Knights hoping we’d run into Black-and-White Beard, but any pirates dead or arrested are pirates that can’t hurt our ponies any more. I’d call it a good day even if we don’t catch our prey, as long as we take out some scum.”

“Good enough for me,” Captain Stratus said. “Let me fill you in on the strategic situation.” He pointed out onto the horizon, where the assembled ponies could just barely see a spec of sails in the distance. “Her captain holds the weather gage. That means he’s upwind of us. That puts us in a bad spot; he can choose to engage us or keep his distance. We, on the other hoof, can only choose to flee.”

“Is there a middle ground? Let them get closer slowly, while still moving generally in the direction of our destination?” Delver asked. Captain Stratus shook his head.

“Only if she allows us to,” he said. “If the other vessel doesn’t want to close, or wishes to close more quickly, there’s nothing we can do but turn and run.”

“What kind of guns does the other ship have? What kind of loadout?” Delver asked.

“It’s hard to tell at range, but she’s smaller than we are. Only one mast. At least half our size, but faster and more maneuverable. Which makes her actions all the more confusing. Why is she trying to close with us, if she’s outgunned? There’s something here we don’t know.”

“Can you make an educated guess, captain?” Delver asked. The captain nodded.

“They’re herding us. They want us to turn and run. There’s another ship out there, somewhere, and the vessel in front of us has some way of communicating with them.”

The assembled ponies stared at each other in silence. That was a frightening thought.

“Unicorns?” Turquoise asked. The captain shrugged.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what unicorns can do. It’s just the only situation I can think of that explains the other captain’s behavior.”

“You have Rope Trick watching for another ship?” Delver asked.

“Yes sir,” the captain said.

“Very well. Let’s let them herd us for now. Knights, get below decks and get dressed for action. I’d like to avoid the chance of us being spotted in our armor until we make contact. Marines to the deck. Prepare the big guns, and arm the cannons. Let’s get ready for a fight.”

While marines prepared their weapons and Emberglow and the other Knights quickly donned their armor, a marine relayed updates from the captain to the Knights. A cry went up on deck as the second ship was spotted; a three master, proudly flying a black and white striped flag bearing a red pony skull.

“I hadn’t heard that Black-and-White Beard had a second ship,” Delver commented conversationally when the captain informed him of the sighting, coming down below decks with Sergeant Arrow to speak with the Knights. The four Knights were just inside the door that sat below the quarterdeck, hidden from sight in the hallway that led to the captain’s quarters. “Captain, what is our best course of action if we intend to destroy them both?”

“Push hard for the second ship, the larger one. Engage as quickly as possible, and cripple the second ship before the first can reach us and press us hard,” the captain said confidently. “If we can get the Knights on board the other ship and disrupt their ability to make war, we won’t have to be caught between two broadsides. You’ll have to swing aboard their ship by line, however.”

“Um, excuse me?” Emberglow asked, flapping her wings with a grin. The others laughed.

“Okay, most of you will have to swing over. Lady Emberglow can fly,” the captain said. “You have shield spells that will protect against small arms fire?”

“Yes, anything moving over a certain velocity. Bullets are useless against our armor and shields. Blades, clubs, and hooves, however, are an issue,” Delver said. “This will be our strategy, then. Gearsmith and the other marines will keep the pirate’s heads down as much as possible, while Bubblegum and I will swing over and clear a spot for Turquoise to swing over and Emberglow to land. The Adamant will be the tip of the spear, stabbing into the pirates while the two of you remain behind us as support. You’ll watch our backs and keep us safe. Once the four of us are over, we will try to disable any cannons.”

“Yes, sir,” Turquoise said, and Emberglow nodded.

“Now ponies, check your spell batteries, mentally go through your common spells, and get ready for action,” Delver said. Emberglow looked at the glowing light indicators on the rune gauntlet; the red, yellow, and green gems were all lit, indicating a full and connected spell battery. “Once we’re over there, stay close, and don’t go off on your own.” He said that last with a particularly sharp look at Bubblegum, who smirked unrepentantly at him. “I mean it, Bubblegum.”

“But sir! We have a Radiant! I can go as crazy as I want, cuz she can put me back together again when it’s all over!” she protested.

“I can’t heal dead,” Emberglow shot back. “Or stupid.” The cream colored earth pony gave her a glare and opened her mouth to respond, but Delver pushed forward.

“We’re not taking unnecessary risks. I want your word, Knight Bubblegum, that you’ll stay close to me and the other Knights,” Delver said sternly. The younger Adamant slumped a bit, her ears drooping as she nodded.

“Yes sir…” Bubblegum said grumpily.

“I need you to say it, Bubblegum,” Delver said, his voice softening. Emberglow watched the exchange, confused.

“I give you my word, Sir Delver, that I’ll do my best to stay close to you and the other two,” Bubblegum said, her voice formal. “Happy?”

“Thank you, Bubblegum,” Delver said, as if she hadn’t added the snark at the end. “Any questions?”

There were none, and Sergeant Arrow trotted off to issue orders to her marines. Emberglow’s heart caught in her throat; she suddenly felt the weight of the last few weeks, the distance that had grown between her and Gadget, and she suddenly wished things could have been different. What if this was the last time she ever saw her friend? The thought chilled her. Death was no stranger to Emberglow. In medical school, as a teenager, she’d worked with corpses as part of her education. It had been hard at first, but she’d adapted. Later on, the students had been introduced to actual sick ponies, suffering from disease and injury. But now, the potential of death for her friends, and her compatriots, was suddenly very real for her as battle loomed.

“Very well. Knight Turquoise, could you lead us in prayer?” Delver asked, and Emberglow could have hugged him for it.

“Lady Rainbow Dash, guide our hooves and hearts. Keep our minds clear and our weapons sharp. Lady Rarity, guide our Emberglow’s magic. Keep her safe so she can keep us safe. Lady Pinkamina, bless us that we shall all live to embrace as friends in the joy of faith after the fires of battle. Lady Twilight, keep us from dark magics and hateful sorceries. All Saints keep us.”

“All Saints keep us,” the others intoned, and the captain and Sergeant Arrow departed above deck.

“Sir, it may help morale if I go and pray with the soldiers and sailors on deck,” Turquoise said. Delver hesitated, but nodded.

“Keep your helmet off and your head down. Hopefully your armor won’t be noticed, but they deserve the blessing of the Saints as much as we do.”

“Thank you, sir,” Turquoise said, and removed her helmet before following the captain and Sergeant on deck.

While they waited for more news, Emberglow picked up her spear. Even after years in the Ivy Seminary, hours of personal, one on one tutoring with Lofty Tale, and countless practice sessions with Turquoise, she still wasn’t as proficient with the weapon as she wanted to be. She realized she’d never be a match for ponies like Lofty Tale, who was a natural at combat, but she was good enough to defend herself. She hoped it would be enough. She clutched at the weapon, resting it against her shoulder with the spear point up. Bubblegum stood next to her, similarly armed, but looking much more comfortable with the hafted weapon than Emberglow was.

“Huh. Your armor’s different,” Bubblegum said, pointing at the smaller spell battery placed just between the wing slits on Emberglow’s armor.

“Yes. Pegasus armor has a smaller spell battery on the back, between the wings. It’s just there to generate a constant shield effect on the wings, because we can’t wear armor there. They taught about that in the Ivy Seminary. Weren’t you listening?” Emberglow asked, trying not to sound impatient. Bubblegum’s eyebrows shot up, and she smirked, as if to say, ‘do you really need to ask that?’ “Nevermind, of course you weren’t.” The other mare snorted.

“I’m jealous, you know. Of your wings,” Bubblegum said softly, glancing at Emberglow’s wings. Her voice was quiet enough that Delver, a few feet away, probably couldn’t hear. Emberglow was silent; she didn’t know how to respond to that. Fortunately, Bubblegum’s notorious lack of a filter saved her from having to. “Ever had sex while flying?” Emberglow couldn’t help herself; she stared open-mouthed at the bizarre Knight.

“Lady Bubblegum!” Delver called out angrily. “Too far! Show some respect.”

“Yes sir,” she said, after jumping at the shout. Her ears and tail drooped, and she glanced up at Emberglow from where she had shrunk down slightly. “I’m sorry, Emberglow.”

“Forget it,” Emberglow said, meaning it. Bubblegum sounded genuine; her sincerity wasn’t the problem. Bubblegum was very sincere. She was just also forgetful, and a bit socially inept.

“I’m sorry, Lady Emberglow,” Delver said. “She means well,” he said with a scowl in Bubblegum’s direction.

“I know. Please, just forget it,” Emberglow waved a hoof dismissively. “Everypony is tense, I get it. Bubblegum just deals with it in weird ways.”

“Yup!” Bubblegum agreed cheerfully.

“Sir Delver!” A marine cried out as he entered the hallway. “The second ship is close enough to make out the ponies on board. Most of the pirates are zebras, sir, and a few earth ponies, but Rope Trick did spot a unicorn on board.”

“And the first ship?” Delver asked.

“Zebras and earth ponies as well, with two griffons. Two cannons to a side on the first ship, five cannons on the second. Multiple rifles seen on both ships.”

“Thank you, marine. Did Rope Trick say anything else about the enemy?”

“Um, yes sir. The unicorn, sir. She’s naked,” the marine said uncomfortably.

“Naked?” Emberglow said with a gasp. “Why?”

“Don’t know, ma’am,” the marine said.

“A sign of deep heresy,” Delver said. “I wish we had a Mystic, to counter her spellcasting.” He shrugged. “Heretics often reject the teachings of Saint Rarity about decency and modesty. Is it going to be a problem to fight against her?” he asked. Emberglow and Bubblegum both shook their heads. “Good. Don’t be distracted. Unicorns can cast the same shields we can; she’ll be immune to the higher velocity projectiles, we’ll have to get in close to her with our spears. Bubblegum, if you see an opening to finish off the unicorn, you need to take her out. If she’s adept at combat magic, neutralizing her as a threat will be more important than staying close.”

“Yay!” Bubblegum cheered, a response that made Emberglow feel a little disgusted; nopony should feel that cheerful about risking their life, or taking another’s.

The last few minutes before the battle were awful. Each breath Emberglow drew in as she waited filled her stomach with a light, floating nausea; not enough to actually vomit, but certainly unwelcome. She felt trapped, imprisoned in this hallway as the time oozed by glacially. Turquoise remained outside, praying with the marines, while the rest of them, however, stayed hidden in the hallway.

Emberglow was detached from whatever was happening outside, and it made her skin crawl. She looked at Bubblegum beside her; the cream mare was twitching with impatience, her hooves tapping against the wooden hallway floor in an agitated dance. Bubblegum glanced back; they shared a silent moment of understanding. The young Knight Adamant nodded at her, smiling sympathetically. There was no judgement in Bubblegum’s bright blue eyes, merely comprehension. A blue-armored hoof patted Emberglow on the shoulder.

“We’ll keep you safe, and you’ll keep us alive,” Bubblegum said confidently, and in that moment Emberglow forgave her for every annoyance, every verbal ejaculation, and every rude interruption. She reached up to put her hoof over Bubblegum’s. “You’re gonna be the best thing that ever happened to this team.” Delver remained silent and let the mares have their moment, though he had a confident, if grim, look in his eyes.

The relative silence was broken by the sudden barks of gunfire from a distance. Emberglow jerked in surprise, her breath coming in short, tense bursts. The sound was muffled, but the sounds of battle, of gunfire and battle cries and screams of pain, all separated from her by wooden walls and doors, made her twitch with energy. She tried to focus on what was coming, tried to remind herself of all her training over the years, but every single thought was ephemeral, drifting and dancing out of her grasp like cobwebs. It was an odd sort of blending of nervousness and excitement, and she couldn’t make herself think straight.

Suddenly the entire ship rattled with a sudden intensity, a loud, booming roar ripping through the air around them. Emberglow’s every muscle tensed in alarm, and Delver held out a comforting hoof.

“Close enough for cannon fire,” Bubblegum whispered. Even her voice was full of anticipation. Emberglow could see it in her eyes; the mare was eager to jump into the fray. Honestly, Emberglow didn’t blame her; sure, she was terrified herself, but waiting was agony. She couldn’t even see what was happening, and she hated it.

The door swung open with a loud bang, and Emberglow jumped again. it was one of the sailors. “Boarding lines are ready. We will be in range for the three of you to swing across in seconds, sir,” he said. Bubblegum gave a little cheer, and Emberglow couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline.

“Very well. Knights, make the Saints proud. Shields up.” Delver said. All three Knights raised their gauntlets and cast the basic high velocity shield that would keep out small arms fire, but that wouldn’t interfere with hoof to hoof combat. “Go.”

As soon as Emberglow’s hooves began moving, the burn of nausea in her stomach disappeared. She felt like a snapped rubber band, pulled tight for too long until the strain was too much. At least she wasn't waiting, though. She had a goal, a pair of ponies to gallop behind. Bubblegum and Delver were both faster to react than she was, and she fell in behind them. A single called order brought Turquoise in next to her, and the three earth pony Knights and single pegasus approached the three boarding lines that had been prepared for them.

By now, the two ships were close enough to clearly see the pirate crew on the other ship. There were mostly zebras, but the most frightening thing was a pale yellow unicorn mare, standing proudly next to an older zebra bearing a polished scimitar and wearing an ostentatious tricorn hat that simply screamed ‘pirate cliché’. The two of them stood at the center of a storm of armed zebras, shouting and snarling as they fired their rifles towards the sailors and marines. Emberglow spotted Gadget and her father; Gearsmith wore a heavy harness, with two huge round-barreled weapons attached that Gearsmith had called ‘rotary cannons’. Gadget was there to manage the large chains of ammunition and help clear malfunctions or weapon jams.

“Lady Rarity keep you safe,” Emberglow said, sotto voce. Gadget looked her way; it was much too far to hear what she said, but Emberglow saw her lips move, and the earth pony marine smiled at her, and tapped her head. She had no idea what Gadget meant, but it didn’t matter. She had Gadget’s support. It filled her with a warm sort of elation. Suddenly the crew of vicious pirates on the other ship didn’t seem nearly as daunting.

Shouts of dismay from the pirate ship brought Emberglow’s attention back to their enemy. It seemed that the Knights had been spotted. It was too late, though; the three earth pony Knights had already reached the boarding ropes and were preparing to swing over. The two ships were running parallel, their prows faced in opposite directions. Zebra pirates began to crowd the front and rails of their ship, armed with rifles, blades, and boarding ladders.

“Nopony fall into the water,” Turquoise called as the two Knights Adamant leaped off the side rail towards the pirate ship. Turquoise followed a second later, and Emberglow counted a single breath before launching herself into the air behind her. A dozen pirates lined along the rail of the enemy ship, the barrels of their weapons pointed at her. Through her shield, she could feel the slight pressure of the bullets from their rifles striking against the magic. It felt like gentle taps of pressure; gentle taps full of hateful, killing intent.

Bubblegum and Delver had already landed, and Turquoise was right behind. Emberglow glided to a landing next to her mentor, her spear pointed downwards toward the pirates who scrambled to get out of the way of the charge. The Knights had an obvious effect on the pirates; zebras and earth ponies alike backed away from the implicit violence of the armored magical figures landing on their deck. A few were fumbling with knives, having realized their rifles were useless.

The noise of the battle was intense. Gunfire was everywhere, from the single cracks of rifles to the rolling rumble of Gearsmith’s weapon. Cries of rage, screams of pain, and weeping moans filled the air. The oddest thing was Bubblegum; the mare was totally silent as she swung across the gulf between the ships, and as she slashed her spear in a wide arc, driving back those pirates that dared get close enough to threaten the Knights. It was eerie; Emberglow had expected battle cries, snarls, shouts, or even joyful elated noises from Bubblegum, but instead she was a picture of silent intensity.

“Brace!” Delver cried out suddenly, shortly after Emberglow’s hooves had hit the deck. The ships had drawn alongside each other, and an earsplitting cacophony surged over the ambient sounds of battle as the two ship captains ordered their cannons to fire. The air was suddenly full of wood splinters and smoke, and Emberglow had to flap her wings to keep her balance as the ship rocked violently. She could see all five cannons exposed on the top deck of the pirate ship, but Delver and Bubblegum were ignoring them pushing towards the unicorn and the captain. Clearly, her magic was by far the greater threat; her cursed horn was glowing with a pink light as she fired beams of energy towards Lady Elegant. Each destructive blast left scorched, splintered holes in the deck of the ship, or even sliced through rigging and sails. Ponies struck by the blasts were thrown backwards, overboard off the ship to splash into the waters below.

Meanwhile, the pirates were drawing melee weapons and surging towards the Knights. A pink earth pony stallion lunged at Bubblegum with a club, while two zebras tried to flank Delver with a pair of long knives. Turquoise drove back one of the zebras with her spear, while Delver faced off with the other.

With a start of shame, Emberglow realized that she had been frozen with indecision as the other, more experienced Knights had engaged the enemy. She spotted two more zebras charging at Bubblegum, who was furiously pushing back against the pink, club-wielding earth pony pirate. He was turning aside her deadly thrusts while the zebras started to circle to her sides, menacing her with clubs of their own.

A cry tore from Emberglow’s lips as she lunged for the zebra on the right of Bubblegum. It wasn’t a particularly intimidating cry; as the dramatic opening of Emberglow’s first real battle it was a little underwhelming, more of a whimper than a bellow. But it was all she had, and it did the job.

The zebra looked up, peeling away from attacking Bubblegum to bring his club sideways in a parry. He swept her spear aside so that the blade missed his right foreleg, but she didn’t let the parry halt the momentum of her charge; rather than leading with her spear, she went in with a shoulder tackle. Emberglow was a little tall for a mare, and wearing full metal armor; she knew she had the advantage of weight over the zebra.

She had enough time to see the look of shock in his face; he’d expected her to try and keep the advantage of her spear’s greater reach; instead, her armored shoulder slammed into his chest. He tumbled sideways, away from Emberglow and Bubblegum and onto the deck of the ship, while she used just enough lift from her wings to keep herself from falling. Meanwhile, the other griffon was sweeping around Bubblegum’s side, lunging with his club. Emberglow dashed between them, parrying the blow with the haft of her spear.

“Thanks,” Bubblegum said, thrusting with her spear at the earth pony stallion she’d just knocked off balance with her own shoulder tackle; there was a gasp of pain as the blade entered the pink stallion’s chest just below his neck. Bubblegum jerked the weapon free with a spray of blood, and the stallion fell limply away.

She looked at Emberglow and pointed her spear at the captain; the zebra pirate was standing with his unicorn, alone, and only the zebra that Emberglow had slammed into was defending them. Emberglow read the question in Bubblegum’s eyes, and nodded.

Knights were trained to fight alongside one another. Even though Emberglow had very little real-life experience, she had practiced for years to move in concert with her fellow Knights. The two mares thrust with their spears at the same time. The zebra tried to parry Emberglow’s stab while sliding out of the way of Bubblegum’s strike. He didn’t move quick enough, though, and the Knight Adamant’s spear sliced along the zebra’s leg and barrel, cutting a wide, bleeding slice into the equine pirate.

Neither mare paused long; even if the zebra was still alive, the wound was deep enough to keep him out of the fight. They blasted past the crumpling zebra towards the pirate captain and his unicorn witch. Black-and-White-Beard was directing the cannon fire that was bouncing between the two ships, and the unicorn was casting something as she continued to speak with the captain; her horn was glowing with pink light as she stood in readiness.

Suddenly, the unicorn let out a shout of alarm that Emberglow heard even over the cacophony of battle and pointed her hoof at the two mares charging towards the captain with leveled spears. This close, Emberglow could see the unicorn mare’s cutie mark; it was five pink lightning bolts arranged in a star shape. She could also tell something else; the unicorn was young. She was practically a foal, and still had the skinny, gangly limbs of a filly barely into her teenage years. The teenaged filly screwed her eyes up with concentration, and the aura surrounding her horn suddenly blazed larger.

“Watch out!” Emberglow called, her hoof whipping through the air in the runes of a common counterspell. Bubblegum hesitated for a breath, stopping in her tracks just as the unicorn’s spell fired off.

Emberglow’s counterspell proved pointless; no offensive hex or violent beam was forthcoming. Instead, a solid pink shield came into being around the filly and the pirate captain. It was a translucent dome, faceted in a pattern similar to a tortoise shell.

“You can’t come in,” the filly shrieked at the Knights. “You hear me, bitches! You can’t hurt him!” Behind them, Sergeant Arrow’s marines were beginning to swing over on boarding lines to support Delver and Turquoise, who were keeping the other pirates away from Emberglow and Bubblegum.

“He has to answer for all the ponies he’s killed, filly,” Bubblegum said grimly, tapping at the shield with her spear. The unicorn filly opened her mouth to retort, but the pirate captain cut her off.

“Umeme! You listen to me. A showdown is not to be,” the zebra captain rhymed. “You will follow Order Nine, and you will be safe, daughter mine.” He seemed calm and relaxed, though he drew a long, shiny cutlass, glaring at the two Knights from the other side of the barrier.

“Daddy, no! I will not!” The filly was weeping.

“Mutiny, then, is it? You promised to obey without fit,” the captain said with a grin. “Follow your orders now, no more of this foalish row.”

“Daddy… please,” she said, straining to hold her magic. The shield began to flicker, and Bubblegum tensed to leap.

“Now, Umeme!” the pirate shouted, for once not rhyming, and with a yelp of frustration and fury, the unicorn disappeared in a flash of light and a pop of sound. The barrier winked out as soon as the unicorn disappeared.

Bubblegum’s reflexes were lightning fast; as soon as the barrier disappeared, she leapt, leading with her spear and the full commitment of her earth pony strength. The captain backed away, swatting at her spear with his cutlass. The two equines began a furious dance; lunge, parry, thrust, and counterattack. Emberglow circled outside them, looking for a chance to help, but the two were moving too quickly. She was concerned she would just trip up the more skilled fighter if she tried to help.

The zebra scored a few hits, though they did little damage; besides a small scrape on Bubblegum’s cheek, and a few missing hairs from her mane, most of the pirate’s hits merely scratched off her armor. Bubblegum, however, had yet to land any significant hits. The pirate captain was an artist with his blade; it flashed and danced in front of him, keeping Bubblegum from using the reach of her spear or even her magically enhanced strength to her advantage. Every time Emberglow tried to circle around behind him, or to his flank, he managed to maneuver to place a barrier in her path, using the masts and railings on his ship to his advantage.

Two of the pirates, an earth pony and a zebra, jumped in between Emberglow and the captain, brandishing sharp knives threateningly at her.

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to,” Emberglow said, but the two ignored her, closing in with their knives. The earth pony lunged first, diving towards her throat with his blade glinting in the sunlight. She blocked it with the haft of her spear, but the zebra’s blade was already slicing towards her face, forcing her to stumble backwards.

Soon she was involved in her own deadly dance. Both of her foes clearly had more experience than she did, but she had the advantage of training and superior equipment. They acted in concert, moving nearly as one. Every time Emberglow tried to thrust her spear at one of the pirates, the other would feint or thrust with his knife, forcing her to back off or respond. She was considering what she could do to break the stalemate when the pink armored form of Turquoise bulldozed into one of the pirates, knocking him up against the railing on the side of the pirate ship. A quick buck with the Knight Jubilant’s back hooves sent the earth pony pirate over the side of the railing with a startled scream. The other pirate backed away nervously, trying to keep himself between the two Knights and the captain, who was also retreating from Bubblegum.

A cannonball from Lady Elegant careened wide, shattering the deck and ship’s railing in a storm of splinters and debris. Emberglow and Turquoise both put hooves in front of their eyes, shielding their faces from the sharp chunks of wood. Emberglow grunted in pain as a particularly large piece of wooden shrapnel lodged itself in her leg.

“You okay?” Turquoise stepped over next to her former squire. Emberglow nodded, flinching as she put her injured hoof down. The pirate they had been fighting was dead; the cannonball had struck right next to him, and the zebra pirate was limp on the deck, littered with shrapnel and resting in an unnatural, twisted state.

“I’m fine, how’s…”

“Delver’s on his way. We took out two of the cannons, and our marines have started to swing over. How’s Bubblegum?

“She was fighting the captain, last I saw. The unicorn he was with escaped. Teleported. I didn’t see…” Emberglow said, panting. Turquoise cut her off.

“Teleported to the smaller ship. They never got to us. Sergeant Arrow reported a flash of light on the other ship, then it turned downwind and began to speed away.”

“Coward!” came Bubblegum’s voice, screaming with frustration. Emberglow and Turquoise found her amidst the smoke and terror. Bubblegum was coughing and choking, rubbing at her eyes as she backed away from a cloud of sickly green smoke, which rose above a shattered glass bottle. The other two ran to their comrade, Emberglow running awkwardly as her gauntlet traced blue runes in the air.

“Breathe normally,” Emberglow said as her glowing gauntlet rested on Bubblegum’s chest, her spell clearing whatever foul concoction had exploded from the bottle out of Bubblegum’s lungs and eyes. The two helped the stumbling earth pony knight away from the cloud, which was slowly dissipating in the wind.

“Thanks,” Bubblegum said, pointing at the door in the pirate ship’s quarterdeck. It was open, it’s door swung wide haphazardly. “The coward fled below decks. We should…”

“Delver! Going below decks after the captain!” Turquoise shouted. Bubblegum rushed in first, this time with Emberglow right behind her. They entered into a hallway lined with four doors, ending in a hatch going downwards. None of the doors were open, but the hatch gaped.

“There!” Bubblegum said, dashing for the hatch, Emberglow trailing right behind. She heard the hooves of the others behind her. The crazy earth pony Knight didn’t even take the time to climb down the hatch’s ladder; she simply leapt into the opening, curling her body into an acrobatic roll and landing. Emberglow also bypassed the ladder, opting to use her wings instead. “Hurry!” Bubblegum shouted, barely giving Emberglow enough time to find her bearings before charging down this new hallway. She didn’t even bother landing; even though the hallway was tight, there was just enough room to spread her wings and swoop down the hallway.

“Bubblegum, be careful!” she called out, but there was no indication that Bubblegum had heard her. At the end of the hallway, a second hatch to the lowest deck stood open, just like the first. Bubblegum took this hatch just like the last one. “Slow down!”

Emberglow heard the gunfire before she even made it to the hatch. She jumped, startled, before reminding herself that Bubblegum was probably just fine. She slipped through this hatch, pausing to note Delver and Turquoise having just made the bottom of the first ladder.

The lowest deck of the pirate ship was the hold. There were crates and barrels everywhere. A section of the hold, walled off by iron bars, formed a brig, though it was also filled with barrels. There was a screech of rusty iron as the door to the brig slid shut. The zebra pirate captain had just locked himself inside his own brig. He carried with him a rifle that he aimed at the pony Knights, but nothing else.

“What?” Bubblegum called out, confused. “He’s an idiot!” she said to Emberglow. “You’re an idiot! You think we can’t get into your little cage? We could even kill you from out here!” She shook her spear at him.

“Whatever you think you can do with your spear, you are the ones who need to fear,” the captain said with a fearsome grin. He pulled a trio of matches out of his long coat, and grinned devilishly at the Knights. “Do I need to imply it louder? These barrels are full of black powder!”

“You’re nuts!” Bubblegum cried out, instinctively backing away from the caged zebra while the pirate captain pried the lid off of one of the barrels. Sure enough, the barrel was full of silvery black gunpowder. Emberglow backed away as well, motioning to the older two Knights, who were just making their way down the last ladder. She was no demolitions expert, but there were enough explosives in that cage to blow a sizeable hole in the side of the ship, and probably kill anypony too close.

“Back up,” Emberglow whispered harshly to Delver and Turquoise. “He’s going to blow up his whole ship!”

“Perhaps not,” Delver said, as his experienced eyes analyzed the room. “He hasn’t yet. Maybe he wants something.”

“You are wiser than you seem, Knight. Your hasty assumption is right,” the captain smirked.

“Your crew is dying, dead, or captured. Your allies have fled. There is no outcome of this battle that ends with you free,” Delver said. “I have to ask for your surrender.”

“Oh? What do you offer me, if you will not let me free?” the zebra asked, his hoof holding the unlit matches hovering over the open barrel.

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Delver said. “If you surrender, I can promise you a painless execution at sea.”

“Such generous terms!” the captain laughed sarcastically. “You can take your surrender to the worms!”

“Conversely, if you do not surrender, you will be captured and hauled back to Port Luminescence in chains. You will be given to the mercies of Blingshine, the governor there. I’m told you and he are not on good terms; you’ve cost him a great deal of money, nearly as much as you’ve cost the Diarchy military. I don’t think you’ll last long in his care, but the days leading up to your execution will be a nightmare.”

“’Tis blasphemy to invoke Her old name, but only your ignorance is to blame,” the pirate muttered. “You offer no real choice, so I will not listen to your voice!” With a swift flick, he lit one of the matches.

“Knights, shields!” Delver screamed, and all three Knights began frantically casting whatever shields they could manage. The dark hold was alight with green glows, and the flickering orange of the match. With a cry of fury, the pirate shoved the burning match into the black powder, just as Emberglow’s spell, more powerful than all the others, flickered over everypony in the hold. She tried to clench her eyes shut right as a bright flash filled the room. She didn’t have time to cover her ears.

Debris and shrapnel battered her shield. She felt her body airborne, then it hit something hard and the breath was knocked out of her. The world was blackness and fire, and then suddenly nothing but water. Saltwater burned in her eyes and nostrils, and she felt herself being dragged down by the weight of her armor. The only thing she could hear was a high pitched ringing in her ears.

Emberglow’s first reaction was sheer panic. She was in her armor, and it would sink. It would sink, and she would drown. Her limbs flailed in the dark, cold ocean, her legs dancing about and her wings and tail flapping uselessly. She was lost; she had no idea which way was up. Her hooves occasionally came in contact with other things in the water; broken shards of wooden planks, pieces of cargo, maybe even other ponies.

Suddenly something grabbed her hoof, and she shrieked; bubbles jetting out of her muzzle and into the water. She nearly inhaled the water before whoever had grabbed her hoof tapped at her gauntlet. She opened her eyes, and saw Bubblegum, her throat glowing with the green light of an active water breathing spell.

Oh.

Her throat and lungs burned, but she dragged her gauntleted hoof slowly through the water, forming the runes necessary for the spell. It took her two tries, her panic beginning to rise again before she felt the spell take effect with the cool touch of magic in her throat and lungs. Hesitantly, she tried to take in a breath, expecting her lungs to be suddenly filled with the cold saltwater. Instead, it was just like breathing normal air. There was no way to thank the other mare for her reminder, so Emberglow settled for an underwater hug instead. Bubblegum looked shocked at first, then smirked. She pointed up.

Her panic receding, Emberglow tried to take stock of what was going on. She was underwater, that was clear. Debris and shattered boards swirled around her, most moving up as she and Bubblegum sunk. She cast a second spell, much more calmly, a buoyancy spell. Bubblegum did the same. It didn’t make either of them float to the top; the spell merely made them neutrally buoyant, so that they could begin swimming to the surface. The two mares moved at a diagonal, towards the light to the sides of the two dark shadows of the ships above them. They weren’t the only two ponies in the water; there were others, but they were the only ones moving. Emberglow tried not to wonder if she knew any of the corpses floating among the ruins of the pirate ship. Alongside the other Knight, she began to swim for the nearest patch of light she could see.

The two ponies breached the surface with an instinctual gasp of air, even though the spell was still intact. The first thing Emberglow noticed was Lady Elegant, battered, pitted with cannon fire, smoldering in two places, but still afloat. Sailors scrambled along the deck, some of them armed with rifles, some not. Though the ringing in her ears was fading, Emberglow still couldn’t hear anything.

There was frantic motion coming from the deck, and Emberglow looked up to see one of the sailors pointing at them. Two more sailors poked their heads over the railing, and soon enough a pair of ropes had been tossed down to the two floating Knights. Emberglow tried to launch herself from the water, but her water saturated wings would not get her airborne. Bubblegum laughed and said something Emberglow couldn’t hear, and the two of them caught the ropes in the turbulent waters. They did their best to pull themselves up on the ropes as the sailors hauled them up at the same time. Soon the two soggy Knights were heaved onboard, trying to ring the saltwater out of their manes and tails. Somepony tapped Emberglow on the shoulder, and she looked up to see Gadget, the blue mare’s face full of worry and relief all at once. She was saying something; Emberglow could barely make out the sounds. The words were impossible to understand.

“What?” Emberglow asked, too loudly, because Gadget flinched away from the noise, and then grinned. Gadget shook her head and pointed with one hoof. Emberglow looked, and there stood Delver and Turquoise. They were both bloody, and covered in shrapnel wounds, but they were standing on their own power. Emberglow and Bubblegum both ran over to the other two, and immediately began casting healing spells. The effort it took to raise her hoof, and the stiffness and pain she felt, reminded her of her own injuries, but she ignored it.

The spell she cast was simple and clumsy; a mere first aid stopgap intended to simultaneously ease pain and stop minor bleeding. She would do more thorough examinations later. Delver and Turquoise both nodded gratefully, and Bubblegum smirked. Turquoise said something, and Emberglow quirked her head to the side, her ears following the mare, but still not hearing anything. Bubblegum shook her head, and with both hooves, covered her ears and shook her head. Turquoise nodded, and tapped Emberglow’s rune gauntlet, then pointed at Bubblegum.

There was a spell to restore damaged hearing. Unfortunately, nopony outside of the Radiant was likely to have specialized so much in healing magic to even be aware of it. Emberglow could cast the spell, but not on herself. Still, she could fix Bubblegum. She cast the spell, and Bubblegum did a little happy hoof dance before giving Emberglow a quick hug.

“What happened? How is everypony?” Emberglow asked, trying not to shout. In response, Delver pointed first at the pirate ship. It was sinking; a tremendous hole gaped in the side of the ship, which was sitting in the water at an unhealthy angle. There were pirate bodies draped over shattered timbers and smears of blood on the broken wood. “How many of ours did we lose?” Delver’s expression fell, and he held up one leg, tapping the deck with his hoof four times. He then pointed over to a space beneath the center mast, where several wounded ponies were laid out side by side.

Triage. Emberglow understood this. Motioning for the others to follow, she galloped over to the wounded ponies, making quick assessments of the wounds and their relative danger. Gearsmith she passed with a friendly smile and a pat on his shoulder; he was wounded, yes, but it took Emberglow only a glance to realize that neither his sprained rear leg nor the bullet graze on the underside of his barrel were life threatening, and somepony had already assembled a clumsy bandage for him. She moved on to the next pony, passing on her broken wing as well. Emberglow could set that later.

The third pony was unconscious, a bleeding bullet wound just above his left eye. The exit wound was in the back of the pony’s head, and much, much larger; she had to steel herself to look. The pony, a sailor, was being held in the hooves of another sailor, a mare. Emberglow remembered seeing the two of them canoodling on deck when they thought nopony was looking. She didn’t need long to assess this patient, either. There was a hitch in her throat as she looked up in the mare’s eyes, shaking her head. It was a blessing that she was deaf, and couldn’t hear the sobs.

The next patient could be saved. She cast a heal spell as quickly as she could, binding and sealing the three bullet wounds, two through his barrel, one through his right foreleg. The one bullet had perforated his stomach and intestines; it would have been a slow, nightmarishly painful death. Now it would be a few weeks of hard recovery, followed by a full life, hopefully. The pony after that was Sergeant Arrow. A compound fracture in her leg had the bone jutting out in a jagged mess of sharp bone and torn skin. Emberglow looked up at the Sergeant’s face; besides a little paleness in the mare’s face, there was no reaction to the fact that she had two inches of razor sharp bone protruding from the flesh of a hind leg.

Delver was right behind her, and she quickly gave him instructions. His muscled hooves wrapped around the sergeant, bracing her for the impromptu operation. Emberglow took hold of the wounded leg; with a practiced jerk and a twist she shoved the bone back in place. She wasn’t looking at the sergeant when she did it, but after she had cast another healing spell over the wound, she looked up to see the sergeant’s eyes closed and her head drooped in unconsciousness. It was no matter; rest would do her good.

Emberglow went through the rest of the patients, emptying her spell battery on the most dire, moving past those who could be made to wait. Nopony seemed angry or impatient at being made to wait for the more dire cases. When her magical battery was finally exhausted, Turquoise handed her another; it was half depleted already, and Emberglow realized it was from Turquoise’s own gauntlet. She healed everypony she could, even burning through the dregs in Bubblegum and Delver’s gauntlets. Then she began washing and bandaging the wounds of those she didn’t have the power to heal magically. It took hours, and in that time, four deaths became five. By the time the soldier with the head wound finally breathed his last, raspy breath, Emberglow’s hearing had come back just enough to hear it.

Once the sailors and marines had been seen to, Emberglow saw to the pirates. There were eight prisoners that had been taken alive; none had surrendered and taken Delver’s offer of a quick and painless execution at sea. Every single one of them would be delivered to Port Luminescence for trial, execution, and probably torture and humiliation as well.

And worst of all, in her last, split second of spellcasting, Emberglow didn’t have the time to refine her spell, making it affect only specific ponies. At the moment of the blast, she had protected the lives of every pony in that hold.

The pirate captain, known by his enemies as Black-and-White Beard, was currently chained in the hold of the Lady Elegant.

Chapter 14

Official correspondence from Knight Captain Delver Deep, to Grand Master Fairy Light.

My Lady Fairy Light,

I am Sir Delver Deep of the Adamant. I am writing to you in regards to one of the newest Knights of your order, Knight Private Emberglow. I am deeply impressed with the young mare. She has shown courage in battle, a clear head, wisdom, empathy, and compassion. She is a credit to your order and to Lady Rarity.

I am sure you are aware of the nature of our assignment. Emberglow was a part of our combat unit as we hunted down the zebra pirate Zuberi, sometimes known locally as “Black-and-White Beard”. Emberglow performed all that was required of her with distinction and valor, with an exactness and eagerness that served as an inspiration to myself and the other Knights on our team.

Despite all of this, I would like to voice a concern. Please, keep this to yourself. Emberglow is a gentle soul, and though she has not said as much to me, I believe she entered the Knighthood with the sole purpose of helping and healing ponies. Combat is not her forte, and indeed, the blood and death she was forced to help inflict on others, even infidels, unbelievers, and heretics, takes a toll on her innocent soul. I do not believe she would refuse any assignment you give to her, but I believe she would thrive more in a situation where she is not forced to dispense violence herself.

I would never presume to advise one as honored as you. Please take my words for what they are worth, the idle concerns of a teammate, and perhaps even a friend, of your young Knight Emberglow.

Blessings of the Saints on you,

Knight Captain Delver Deep

1112 AF, Port Luminescence

“You’re wasting your time with these lowlifes, Lady Emberglow,” one of the mercenary ponies who guarded the Port Luminescence prison muttered as she breezed past him. “It’s not like they’re not gonna get stretched in a few days, anyways.” Emberglow had never bothered to learn his name; anypony who was willing to take Blingshine’s coin wasn’t a pony she wanted to get to know better.

“Perhaps you may not understand,” Emberglow said stiffly. “What I do is my duty. You know what duty means, right?” She winced. She shouldn’t have added that last bit, but she was getting tired of the snide remarks and sidelong looks from the guards Blingshine had hired to watch the eight pirate prisoners and the filthy, nasty pits they’d been tossed into. “Has the food been delivered?”

“Soup and bread’s inside, Lady Emberglow,” the guard said with obvious boredom. “Just like always. We didn’t touch it this time.” On her first day back, Emberglow had been horrified to discover that prisoners were sometimes not even fed. Even when they were, sometimes the food was spat on, or otherwise tainted. She’d set some specific rules about how food was to be prepared for them after that point. Just because they were slated for execution didn’t mean they should be mistreated.

“Thank you, guard,” she called back as she continued down the creaking wooden stairs into the mud-spattered pits below.

There were no cells in this prison; instead it held four large pits, covered with a grate of wooden poles. In the center of the room was a large stew pot, four buckets, and a basket with several pieces of stiff, stale bread. With a sigh, she steeled herself for the abuse she knew was coming.

“Hey, it’s the pegasus bitch! Why don’t you come down here with us, I’ve got a meal for you!” The first shout came from one of the pits. She ignored the pirate, sure he was making some sort of obscene gesture to accompany his invitation. “A nice, thick sausage.” Sometimes they could be incredibly predictable.

She filled the first bucket with thin broth from the stewpot, and attached it to a rope. She then lowered the bucket, along with two of the bread pieces, down into the pit, waiting until she felt slack on the rope to pull the rope back up. They might be heckling her, but they were smart enough to not mess with their dinner.

“Diarchy slut! Does it make you feel big, to torture us down here?” She’d learned on the first day there was no point responding to any of them, except maybe the captain. She lowered the second bucket to the prisoners in the next pit. Her thanks were more insults, blasphemy, and crude innuendos.

She moved on to the third pit, her mind drifting to her other tasks for the day. Being the most junior Knight in the squad meant paperwork: incident reports, casualty reports, resource expenditures, that sort of thing. Being the primary medical officer meant even more paperwork; namely, letters to next of kin. She’d been putting that bit off, though the guilt of it burned her. There was a letter on her desk back at the Turtle that she’d begun and paused at least a hundred times over the last few days; how was she supposed to tell Tangerine’s grandchildren that their dear grandmother would never be coming home again?

“Hey! You braindead up there, dummy?” a voice from below broke her out of her thoughts. the prisoners down below were jerking on the rope, wordlessly she pulled it up, moving on to the last pit, where the captain was kept.

Instead, she found only one prisoner, who glared up at her hatefully.

“Where is Captain Zuberi?” she asked, surprised out of her silence. She’d actually managed to learn his real name over the last few days. He was the one pirate who spoke to her, rather than cursing and insulting her. He had always been polite, acting as if they were anywhere other than a dirty prison in a muddy pirate port.

“Where do you think, slut?” the lone pirate in the pit shot up at her. “Or are you really stupid enough that you didn’t notice the whip marks and blade scars every time you came to force this slop on him? He deserves better.”

Emberglow flinched. She knew where he was. She just didn’t want to think about it.

“Very well,” she said, lowering the bucket to the lone prisoner. “I’ll wait until they return.”

“Sure, tell yourself it’s just a picnic, or a little vacation,” the pirate snorted with contempt. “Your kind are good at lying to themselves.”

Emberglow let the fury and the insults wash over her, ignored. Nothing they said to her really mattered, after all. They were all heretics, and none of them had shown any sort of interest in repentance or absolution. At least they knew she was there to listen if they changed their minds. So she stood, waiting patiently for her last charge to be returned.

Finally a group of ponies descended the stairs into the prison, dragging a slumped figure in their midst. There were three guards, earth ponies with bulging muscles and a latticework of scars on their bodies. Between them was Captain Zuberi, limp, bloody, and being dragged by his forelegs. His breath was raspy, and blood dripped from his lips. His face was a mess of bruises, and Emberglow could see teeth missing from his muzzle. He looked up at her, his expression a dazed, half-conscious mask of agony. Behind them strolled Blingshine, in all his ostentatious and dubious glory.

“Lady Emberglow! I am so glad you are here, I wished to speak with you,” Blingshine called out in a singsong voice. He turned his muzzle up at the foul smell of the prisoners, daintily picking his way through the prison as if he could somehow keep the filth and mud off his white hooves.

“What can I do for you, governor?” Emberglow said as politely as she could. Why did it have to be him, of all ponies?

Blingshine pointed with his hoof, and his guards dumped the captain on the mud floor, one of them stepping on his back, right on the withers, to keep him ground into the mud. Zuberi didn’t look like he had any chance of fighting back anyways; he was limp as a sack.

“While this creature is quite resistant to our interrogation techniques, his body is far too weak to continue questioning. I would like to know more about his activities, which ships he took, where the cargo was taken, what foul allies he may have here and in the rest of the Diarchy. It’s important work, but he is proving too resilient. If you could heal him, fair Lady Knight, we could continue our questioning and obtain information valuable to all of us.”

Emberglow felt like she had been kicked. He wanted her to do what? It made her feel sick to even consider. She walked over to the prisoner, motioning with a hoof and a glare for the guard to step off of the former pirate captain. She leaned down, ignoring her white robe trailing in the filthy floor. With a skilled hoof she did a quick inspection of the zebra’s injuries. Broken jaw. At least one broken rib. Possible collapsed lung. One eye swollen shut, possibly damaged beyond repair. She wasn’t wearing her armor; her gauntlet was a part of her kit back at The Turtle.

“Send one of your ponies to find Sir Delver,” Emberglow said flatly. “Tell him I need my rune gauntlet. I don’t trust your ponies to go rifling through my things.” It was a blunt thing to say, and she saw Blingshine’s face darken slightly at the implied insult. Emberglow didn’t care. She suspected she would insult him a few more times throughout the rest of this conversation.

“Verde, go find the Knight and give him the message,” Blingshine ordered, and one of the stallions rushed off to follow his orders. Emberglow ignored the others, continuing her inspection of the zebra. He was just lucid enough to look her in the eye. Emberglow wished to say something, but there were no words to be said.

“When are they scheduled for execution?” Emberglow asked. Yet another grim duty she would have to participate in. The medical officer overseeing the execution of a prisoner would have to verify the death of the condemned.

“Three days, Lady Emberglow,” Blingshine replied. “They will be hung in the public square. You will be there?”

“I am required by my duty, yes,” Emberglow said neutrally, but Blingshine clearly found something in her tone to react to, for he was scrutinizing her closely. She blatantly ignored him, her growing distaste at the governor making it dangerous for her to say anything. Wordlessly she motioned at him to make room for her so she could continue her tasks.

Blingshine bowed graciously to her, and stepped out of her way as she lowered the rope into the pits so the prisoners could return the buckets. Emberglow did her best to pretend Blingshine wasn’t there, as the governor’s presence seemed to make the prison even slimier than the mud they were stepping on. They didn’t have to wait long; the guard was quick, and he returned with Delver following behind. Delver wore his armor, as usual, and took out Emberglow’s rune gauntlet from his saddlebags. She walked over to him and accepted it, before looking him in the eye with an apologetic grimace.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I think I’m going to cause trouble for you.” Sir Delver smiled and shrugged as he helped her put on her gauntlet.

“So? You’ll heal him?” Blingshine said, his voice slurred with bloodlust. Emberglow felt her skin crawling at his eager tone as she moved over to the zebra. She leaned down to him, her lips almost touching his ear, which twitched at her soft breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered gently. “We may be enemies, but even you deserve better than this.” She had no idea if he heard her.

“Governor Blingshine has asked me to use magic to heal the pirate,” Emberglow said, louder, to Delver. “Apparently, he needs to be healed so he can be tortured more.” She knew she had read Sir Delver correctly when she saw the anger in his eyes as well. Delver had honor, so much more than Blingshine. She turned to face the Governor, looking him straight in the eye. “No.”

“What?” Blingshine said, his face awash with shock as his ears shot up.

“I said, no. I will not contribute to the torture of this pony. My magic will not be used for this foul purpose,” she said. She hoped her voice sounded confident, despite the roiling, churning hurricane of anxiety in her stomach. Delver remained silent, letting his Knight fight her own battle. His silent support was just what she needed.

“I will heal him, and he will go back into his cell, where he will wait until his execution. You will not torture him any longer. We do not need any information he has to give; Knight Command and the Mystics have declined the need to interrogate him. What you are doing now is just sick. If you tell me he will have to be tortured longer, I will break his neck right here.” She stepped up to the prone prisoner, placing her hoof on his neck and leaning just slightly. Blingshine was close enough that she could smell his perfume over the stink of the prison; his eyes glowed with rage, and he was breathing heavily. He looked between the two Knights; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. After a moment of silence, the slick grin of the slimy politician slid over his face like an ooze.

“But Lady Emberglow, what…”

“No!” she shouted again, lifting her hoof of Zuberi’s neck and stomping it on the ground. She shoved her muzzle right into Blingshine’s, staring down the stallion. She was just a little taller than he was, she realized, and it gave her a pulse of confidence. She could feel her legs shaking, but she didn’t let it show in her eyes, steady on the other pegasus’ face.

“Very well, Lady Emberglow,” he said finally, with a blank, slick smile. “No more interrogation, if you wish. On your head be the consequences.” He stepped back from her in a movement that felt more like a strategic retreat than a surrender. Emberglow looked at the two guards who had remained; they looked confused and uncomfortable.

“Hold him up. I will heal him, then you will put him back in his cell. Understand?” she ordered. The guards looked from her back to Blingshine, who shrugged as he flounced up the stairs and out of the room. He would leave it entirely in her hooves, then. Very well. She drew the runes for a healing spell, running it over the zebra’s barrel first, patching the broken ribs that were probably causing the most pain. It took three total spells to fully heal the condemned prisoner; one for his broken ribs, one for his shattered jaw, and a third for his destroyed eye. It wasn’t repairable, as it turned out; he would have no sight in the eye for the rest of his short life. But she could ease the pain and seal the wounds.

“You waste your work,” the zebra rasped out. Apparently he was awake enough to know what was going on. “They’re just going to hang this jerk.”

“I won’t have Lady Rarity’s holy gift used to torture ponies,” Emberglow whispered back, as the guards shoved aside the metal grate that made up Zuberi’s cell. He was pushed into the pit, though he didn’t bother to protest much.

“You give so much to honor a fabrication,” the zebra called out. “I wish you could see it is your own damnation.”

Emberglow had nothing to say to that. She looked up at Delver, his face concerned and thoughtful. With a nod to him, she trotted up the stairs and out of the prison. He followed behind silently.

“I really need to wash this robe,” she commented to Delver as soon as they were outside. Her breathing was heavy with tension, her mind whirring at what had just happened. Delver wasn’t helping; his silence, which before had been a quiet, comforting strength, was now a source of anxiety. Had she done the right thing? She kept talking, more to fill the now painful silence than anything else. “I guess it doesn’t matter much, I’ll be going back tomorrow, right? But still, appearances are…”

“Emberglow,” Delver said, cutting into her babbling speech.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the tension suddenly breaking with a rush of fear and shame. “I’m so sorry. I just made things really difficult for you, didn’t I? I’m worthless in a situation like that.” She brushed at her eyes, wet with moisture.

“Emberglow. Calm down,” Delver said gently. “You did nothing wrong. Yes, things might be strained with Blingshine for a few weeks. Even months.” He put his hoof on her shoulder, stopping her in the middle of the street. “Did you handle that the way I might have? Or Turquoise? Probably not. But he needs to be reminded, every so often, that he rules at the Diarchy’s sufferance. Yes, he is useful to us, but not so useful that he can defy a Knight.” He slipped his hoof more firmly around the young Knight, gripping her in a hug. Emberglow was a little surprised; she hadn’t expected physical affection from Delver. “Don’t judge yourself, Knight. You did the right thing.”

She smiled slightly, feeling her spirits lifted, at least a little. “So… what now?” she asked. “Right thing or not, I’ve created a problem for us, haven’t I?”

“Well, yes,” Delver admitted with a laugh, releasing the hug. “We might have to step gently around Blingshine for a while, until he cools off. We’ll have to meet and discuss the implications of this, and I’d rather do it sooner than later.” He sighed. “I’ll need you to go… erm… extract Bubblegum.”

“Right,” Emberglow said with a resigned sigh.

“She’s at home, but she may be…” he gave an annoyed grunt, rolling his eyes. “…too occupied to answer her door. Go inside and interrupt if you have to. Tell her we need to speak as soon as possible, but try to be discrete.”

“Of course,” Emberglow said with a nod.

“Meet us back at my office,” he said as she took to the air, spreading her wings and lifting herself off the mud street.

Emberglow had visited Bubblegum’s house precisely once, before leaving onboard Lady Elegant. It was a humble home, only a single story, and unexpectedly well-kept given what Emberglow knew about Bubblegum’s flightiness. Bubblegum had built a solid stone retaining wall around her yard to keep her front flower garden free from the excessive mud and moisture that frequently invaded Port Luminescence’s streets. A cloyingly domestic white painted fence surrounded the small property, more decorative than practical. A stone path surrounded by grazing flowers led to the front door.

Emberglow landed just beyond the gate, near the front door. She tried not to think about what might be going on inside as she raised her hoof to knock on the door. Her hoof rapped on the pastel green painted wood three times, then she sat back to wait.

Nothing.

Emberglow tried again; knock three times, wait.

Still nothing. With a sigh that was both nervous and exhausted, she reached out to turn the doorknob and swing the door open. It was unlocked. She stepped nervously into Bubblegum’s front room, which was both an entryway and a kitchen.

Bubblegum’s kitchen was as quaint and domestic as her front yard. There were floral pattern curtains on the window, and a collection of pots and pans hanging from hooks over a central island workspace. A potted plant on a wooden kitchen table rested on a doily.

A doily. Emberglow had a hard time conceiving of a world that contained both Bubblegum the earth pony and doilies.

There was nopony in the kitchen, but from the suspiciously wet noises and lusty moans coming from the cracked door that led to the small bedroom, Emberglow could guess where Bubblegum was.

Emberglow didn’t have much experience with sex, obviously. She had spent the entirety of her life since puberty, since before puberty, dedicating a great deal of time and energy into repressing any sexual thought or desire she had ever had. Her interactions with Gadget had shown her that perhaps her defenses were not as well-built as she thought, but the carnal sounds coming from the next room did not awaken any sort of feeling in her whatsoever, except perhaps a mild distaste. It had been three days, and they were still going at it like bunnies? She knocked on the door, waiting a few seconds while trying to ignore the moans of passion on the other side. She was so annoyed she didn’t even bother to knock again before pushing the door open with one hoof.

“Bubblegum, I’m sorry, but…” the rest of her apology died in her throat as her mouth gaped open. The Knight Adamant was, indeed, carnally ‘involved’ on her bed, the sheets in disarray and the entire room stinking of body odor and the sexual fluids of the nude couple writhing in passion before her. But it wasn’t Bubblegum’s husband that was mounting her.

It was a griffon.

Emberglow felt the bile rise in her throat. Both the beaked face and the surprised muzzle of the earth pony froze mid-thrust, gaping at her in shock. The griffon suddenly leapt off his lover, and off the bed entirely, spinning to face Emberglow as Bubblegum stumbled off the bed. Emberglow had to fight an internal war; the situation was suddenly dangerous, and her instincts and training demanded that she not take her eyes off of the beast before her. Her sense of revulsion and horror, however, demanded that she turn and run, screaming.

“Emberglow, um, it’s not what it looks like…” Bubblegum stuttered, not taking her eyes off the Knight. The griffon looked panicked, his eyes darting between the two mares. Emberglow idly noted Bubblegum’s cutie mark, starkly obvious on her naked flank. It was, appropriately, a pair of pink bubbles.

“So he was raping you?” Emberglow spat out, her horror at what she was seeing evident in her voice.

“No!” Bubblegum protested loudly, anger mixing with the panic in her voice.

“So you let him… do that to you!?” Emberglow yelled, and Bubblegum flinched. “Bubblegum, this is bestiality! A capital offence! They’ll execute you!”

“Only if you tell them,” Bubblegum growled, a dangerous note in her voice that Emberglow couldn’t fail to pick up on. She stepped so that she was closer to Emberglow, moving so that she was between the Radiant and the griffon.

“You know I have to,” Emberglow said shakily, taking a step back. “I have to report this, Bubblegum. Why? Why would you betray us like this? Betray your husband, betray Lady Rainbow? Why?”

Bubblegum shared a quick glance with the griffon, and a moment of understanding seemed to pass between them.

“Go,” Bubblegum said. “Keep him safe.” The griffon nodded, dashing over to the window and sliding it open.

“But…” he hesitated, looking over at Emberglow.

“I can take her,” Bubblegum said, glaring dangerously at Emberglow. “Go. Get Windy out.”

“Your husband is in on… whatever this is?” Emberglow shouted as the griffon slipped out the window and winged off. Emberglow itched to chase him, but she knew the second she turned her back she would be attacked. That was a horrifying thought; fighting another Knight was the last thing she’d ever expected to do.

“Emberglow, I don’t wanna hurt you,” Bubblegum said, taking another step towards her. “But I don’t wanna die. I’m not gonna let them execute me, or Windy.”

“I can’t let you go,” Emberglow whispered. “Knight Bubblegum, you are under arre…”

She wasn’t even able to finish the sentence before Bubblegum was upon her in a flurry of hooves and biting teeth. As with the battle with the pirates, Bubblegum’s charge was completely and eerily silent. Emberglow tried to fend her off with flailing hooves, but for every strike she dodged or blocked, two more struck her about the face. Pain blossomed in her head as each pounding strike, backed by the full strength of a magically enhanced earth pony, crashed into her.

Emberglow knew that combat was not her forte, but she had severely underestimated the difference in skill between them. She was slowly forced back by Bubblegum’s assault, until she suddenly found herself pinned with her back against the wall. With a snarl, Bubblegum pounced onto her, and the weight of the vicious fighter on top of her bore her to the wooden floor.

Emberglow’s head struck the floor, and as she tried to raise it again, Bubblegum’s hoof shoved against her forehead, slamming her into the floor again, and a third time. There was a loud crunch and crack as Emberglow’s head struck hard enough to break the wooden floor. Her vision spun with stars, but Emberglow somehow managed to squeeze her rear hooves underneath Bubblegum’s barrel. Bracing against the floor, she bucked hard with her rear legs, sending Bubblegum somersaulting over her head and into the kitchen. Bubblegum crashed into the kitchen table, wood shattering at the heavy impact.

Emberglow had just enough time to roll onto her hooves and stand up. Bubblegum was quicker on her hooves, and had retrieved one of the jagged broken table legs as a makeshift club. Emberglow wished for her spear as the earth pony charged her, improvised weapon raised high. Emberglow raised her hooves to block the strike, seizing hold of the end of the club.

It had been a feint. Her hooves otherwise occupied, she had no response ready when Bubblegum let go of the club and struck, hard, right at Emberglow’s jaw. There was a sharp stab of intense pain and a crunch of bone. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

Emberglow dropped the end of the club she was holding, stunned by the sudden pain of the strike. Her distraction lasted long enough for Bubblegum to spin around, bracing her front hooves against the floor and lashing out with a full, double-barreled buck right to Emberglow’s chest. She spun in the air as she went flying, landing heavily on the rumpled bed with an ‘oof’ of expelled air.

Her chest and face hurt, and her muscles burned from exertion. She couldn’t move; the powerful two legged kick had knocked the air out of her entirely. She spread her wings, trying to rise up to do… something, anything, when there was suddenly a weight on her back. She screamed in pain as her spread wings were twisted and flattened against the bed, pinned in awkward angles. A hoof wrapped around her neck, and she desperately tried to shove off the strong foreleg that squeezed against her throat, cutting off her air.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she heard Bubblegum sob above her. “I don’t wanna hurt you, I never wanted this.” Emberglow bucked against the bed, trying to get her hooves under her, trying to get them under Bubblegum, trying anything to break the earth pony’s deadly grip. “I’m so sorry, Emberglow.” She gnashed her teeth and slammed her head backwards, trying to dislodge the other Knight, but she couldn’t get the leverage she needed to break Bubblegum’s chokehold. Her vision began to swirl, brown and black dancing at the edges as her oxygen starved lungs burned with need.

“I won’t kill you,” somepony said. Somepony above her. She couldn’t quite make out who. “I can’t. I won’t go that far. I’m so sorry.” Then the blackness collapsed in on her, and she slumped into nothingness.

Minutes or months or decades later, Emberglow suddenly felt the acid burn of healing buzzing through her neck and muzzle. She was somewhere. Where was she? It was all dark.

“Emberglow! Emberglow, wake up!”

Turquoise. That was Lady Turquoise calling to her. No, wait, not Lady anymore, Emberglow was a Knight now, too. Her thoughts swam, incoherent. She opened her eyes. Delver and Turquoise were standing next to a bed. Her bed? No. Somepony else’s bed. Eww. Somepony’s bed smelled like sex.

With a jolt, Emberglow suddenly remembered everything that had happened. She tried to stand, but her legs were too weak, crumpling underneath her and dumping her back into the soft and comfy but somewhat fragrant bed.

“Ow,” she rasped, her throat scratchy and pained. Turquoise laid a hoof on her back.

“Don’t get up, you’re injured,” she said softly, her voice full of concern.

“Can you tell us what happened? Who attacked you? Where are Bubblegum and Wind Storm?” Delver asked.

“Bubblegum…” Emberglow began. She didn’t know what to say. She had no idea how to begin.

“Focus, please, Emberglow. We need to know where she is in case whoever attacked you goes after her as well,” Delver said. Turquoise shot him a look.

“Bubblegum… did this,” Emberglow managed through her damaged throat. The healing spell Turquoise had cast had healed the worst of the damage in her jaw and wings, but all of her was still sore and battered from the fight.

“What?” Turquoise said with shock. “Emberglow, you’re delirious.”

“I walked in on her… with a griffon. Sex. They were…” it was coming out all wrong, the words out of order, tumbling over each other. But she could tell from the horror in the eyes of her fellow Knights that they understood what she was saying. She choked out more. “She begged me not to say anything. I said… I said I had to. She tried to kill me while the griffon escaped. I think… I think Wind Storm knew about it.”

“Why do you say that?” Delver asked.

“Something she said, before she attacked me. She told the griffon to ‘go get Windy’.”

The other two exchanged a glance that was both devastated and determined.

“We have to come up with a plan for this,” Turquoise said. Delver nodded.

“Emberglow, I need to know if you’re okay right now. Medical opinion, no false bravado,” Delver said. Emberglow nearly nodded automatically, but she did as he asked and made a quick assessment of herself. She massaged her throat with a sore foreleg, and worked her jaw slowly. One after another, she stretched each wing. Again, the limbs were sore, but not broken. Her jaw was intact; the healing spell had repaired that broken bone.

“I’ll be fine with some rest,” she said, knowing full well the folly of being her own doctor. She wanted to keep her assessment conservative, at least. “I can move around slowly for now, but no action for a few days, if possible.”

“Thank you, Emberglow. I want you to head, slowly, back to the marines’ barracks and find Sergeant Arrow. The two of you will wait in my office. You may tell her what happened if you wish, but none of the others, please. I will see if I can find Bubblegum. Turquoise, you head to the weather office, see if anypony there knows where Wind Storm is. We’ll meet in my office in one hour.”

The walk to the barracks was mud and misery. Emberglow wanted to fly her way there, but she could hardly flap her wings in the state they were in. When Bubblegum had launched herself on top of Emberglow, she’d mashed the pegasus’ wings down into an unnatural angle, straining the muscles and bones. So instead, she trudged through streets that were filling up with mud.

She remembered, weeks ago on the airship Lost Lamb, Gearsmith talking about how the delta Port Luminescence was built on sometimes flooding and spilling excess water into the muddy streets of the city. It was as if the Diarchs themselves wanted to torture her. Her hooves sunk past the fetlock in the soft earth, going in easy, but releasing with great effort, the suction dragging her down. Her robes got filthy and sodden, dragging her down with water weight. Her rune gauntlet quickly became caked with mud.

The guards at the military base looked as if they were about to say something to Emberglow as she approached; she looked like Tartarus, after all. She hadn’t looked in a mirror, but she was sure she still had bruises on her face and neck, and she was covered in mud on top of everything else. They said nothing, however, and she walked right into the barracks.

There were no soldiers in sight; they had all been given leave just like the Knights had. Sergeant Arrow wasn’t in her office either, and Emberglow had no idea where she could be. As a last resort, she went to the basement, where she knew Gadget had her workshop. This time, both father and daughter were there. One of Gearsmith’s cannons was disassembled on the highly organized workshop table.

“Lady Emberglow, what…” Gadget began, trailing off as she took in the full shock of Emberglow’s disastrous appearance.

“Sorry, no time. Do either of you know where I can find Sergeant Arrow?” she asked. Gadget opened her mouth with a concerned expression, but her father interrupted before she could ask further.

“She has a home off base. If she’s not there, we have no idea where to find her,” Gearsmith replied. “Is there something we can do to help?”

“Can you take a message to her, please?” Emberglow asked. Gearsmith nodded. “I need her to meet me in Sir Delver’s office within an hour. And no, I can’t tell you what this is all about. Not yet.” Emberglow said.

“Are… are you okay?” Gadget asked, concern evident in her voice. The light blue earth pony reached out to gently touch at one of the sore spots on Emberglow’s face, and she flinched in pain.

“No, I’m not, not really,” Emberglow said honestly. “But I will be. Now, please,”

“Of course, my lady,” Gearsmith said. He was already standing. Gadget nodded.

“Thank you both,” she replied. She stepped away from the door to make room for the two earth ponies to pass. “I’ll be in Delver’s office if something else comes up.” As the two passed her, Gadget shot her a look that was both inquisitive and compassionately concerned. It was gratifying, even with the distance Emberglow had been forced to cultivate between herself and her new earth pony friend.

Once inside Delver’s office, however, Emberglow felt the sudden onset of anxiety. Having a goal, something to do, had managed to distract her for a few minutes, but alone in the empty room it all came closing in. She positioned herself in the corner to wait, staring at the door while she sat and tapped her hooves together nervously. There was nothing in Sir Delver’s spartan office to take her mind off of what had just happened.

Bubblegum and a griffon? It was unthinkable. But she had seen it with her own eyes. What had been going through Bubblegum’s head? She knew the law, she knew the consequences, and yet still she’d done the forbidden. Surely, even a pony with no thoughts for the consequences of her actions wouldn’t go that far. But Bubblegum had.

Emberglow’s thoughts went in circles. Did Bubblegum simply lack faith? Or maybe she’d never believed at all. Maybe… was she a heretic?

The idea was horrifying, turning Emberglow’s already churning stomach and sending a shiver of disgust down her fur. Knights were supposed to be the best of the best. The wisest, the most noble, the most righteous. Were there others like Bubblegum, hiding their sins, hiding their corruption, even within the holy Knighthood?

This was one of the ways heretics worked, from what Emberglow remembered from her lessons in the Ivy Seminary. Division, strife, infighting, paranoia; these were all tools of the traitors. Her breathing quickened as she thought about the implications. Had she just been victim to some sort of heretic plot, to drive a wedge into their team?

She shivered again, and wished that Delver had something in his office to take her mind off her own thoughts. A book, a painting, even something more interesting than a pair of polished rocks as paperweights. The chandelier that lit the room was off at the moment, the only light coming from the narrow window. She sat in the dark, her back in the corner, stewing in her turbulent thoughts, when the door opened.

“Sir Delver? You wanted to see me?” Sergeant Arrow said, then looked around the room.

“He’s not back yet,” Emberglow said.

“Lady Emberglow! You… uh…” the sergeant trailed off awkwardly.

“You can say it, sergeant.”

“You look worse than when the pirate captain blew you up,” the sergeant said frankly. Emberglow laughed hollowly.

“Yeah, I get that. I had my jaw broken and was strangled a bit.”

“What happened? Gearsmith and Gadget didn’t say much about what was going on, only that you told them to come find me.” Sergeant Arrow said.

“I’ve only told the short version to the other Knights, and I’m sure Sir Delver will have more questions when he gets here. I’d rather tell the whole thing only once,” she said.

“That bad?” Sergeant Arrow asked, and Emberglow winced and nodded. “Okay then, ma’am. Anything I can do in the meantime? I could get you something for your pain. Or something to drink.” Alcohol did sound appealing, but there were important conversations coming up, and Emberglow wanted to be fully aware and rational. Then inspiration struck, and she remembered another dark day and how she coped with it.

“I don’t suppose you could locate some hot chocolate?” she asked with a slight smile. Sergeant Arrow looked at her funny. “Sir Delver probably won’t be back for at least ten minutes.”

“I can check out the mess, see if they have anything,” Sergeant Arrow said. Emberglow nodded.

“Coffee too, for anypony that doesn’t appreciate hot chocolate,” Emberglow said. The sergeant nodded, and Emberglow realized she’d just sent a marine sergeant off like a common servant. She was about to say something when the sergeant slipped out of the room with a smile. Shrugging, she went back to her waiting.

The first one back was Turquoise. “You okay?” she asked as she came into the room, seeing the look on Emberglow’s face.

“No,” Emberglow said simply, and Turquoise nodded.

“Pain?” Turquoise asked, and Emberglow shook her head.

“Not too bad,” she replied. I’m sore all over, but I’ve had worse. Sergeant Arrow is on her way with coffee and hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?” Turquoise sounded puzzled. Emberglow grinned sheepishly.

“Yeah… back in Ivy Seminary, I had a bit of a meltdown once after a pair of bullies vandalized my room. Hot chocolate was what the school nurse prescribed. It’s kind of my personal ritual when things get dark.”

“I think I’ll join you with that,” Turquoise said fervently, slumping onto one of the cushions on the floor. “I feel like having a bit of a meltdown myself.”

Sergeant Arrow came in next, carrying a tray with a half dozen cups. She sat them down on the table. Smells of both coffee and hot chocolate wafted from the steaming ceramic cups.

“Did she order you about like a butler?” Turquoise asked with a raised eyebrow. Sergeant Arrow smiled shamelessly.

“Yes she did, Lady Turquoise. And no shame to her for doing so. I live to serve the Saints and their representatives.” There was a twist of humor in the declaration, for all its sincerity. “Besides, it looked like she needed it.” The sergeant picked up one of the cups of coffee and began to sip, patiently waiting for Sir Delver with a serenity that Emberglow bitterly envied.

When he finally arrived, he looked exhausted. His shoulders were slumped, and he immediately seized a cup of coffee with a grateful sort of sigh.

“Are we just waiting on Lady Bubblegum now, sir?” Sergeant Arrow asked, and all three Knights cringed at once, with Delver choking on his coffee. “Sir?” the sergeant wasn’t one to miss a reaction like that, especially shared by three ponies.

“Bubblegum won’t be joining us,” Delver said tiredly. “Sergeant, this information doesn’t leave this room until I say so. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” Sergeant Arrow replied, her posture stiffening as her voice became more formal, her face a mask of professionalism.

“As of this moment, I declare Knight Bubblegum stripped of rank and attainted, accused by credible witness of both bestiality and unprovoked assault and attempted murder of a fellow Knight.”

“Witnessed,” Turquoise replied sadly.

“W-witnessed,” Emberglow stammered. Sergeant Arrow stared at the nightmare she was hearing, her professional mask broken.

“We’ll have to fill out the paperwork, but from now on, we are to consider Bubblegum a dangerous enemy.” Delver looked at Sergeant Arrow sympathetically. “I’m sorry to throw you into the deep end on this one, Sergeant. Emberglow here accidentally observed Bubblegum in sexual congress with a griffon. When Emberglow confronted Bubblegum, she was attacked, wounded, and nearly killed.” He slumped down at his desk, propping up his head with his forehooves wearily. “You’re here so we can coordinate our response.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Sergeant Arrow said, clearly disturbed. She fumbled at her coffee, spilling a bit down her chin as she took a large gulp. “Where is Bubblegum?”

“Nopony knows,” Delver said. “I went to all the places she tends to visit when she has free time. Xander, the owner of the gambling hall she hangs out at hasn’t seen her all day, nor did she show up at either of the cafés she likes. I even galloped through the public gardens where Wind Storm sometimes takes her on dates. No sign of her. Turquoise?”

“I went to the weather office. Nearly an hour ago, a griffon who works there, named Galileo, rushed into Wind Storm’s office. The door was closed for the entire conversation, which lasted less than a minute. Nopony overheard. A few seconds later, the two of them rushed out together without saying anything to any of Wind Storm’s employees. They were both wearing heavy saddlebags. None of the other weather workers remembered either of them coming to work wearing the saddlebags.” Turquoise gave her report with a detached sort of sadness.

“Some kind of bugout bags?” Delver mused. “It means they knew getting caught was a possibility. Damn. She’s been sleeping with the griffon for a long time, then. And Wind Storm knew about it.”

“So do we need to investigate more?” Turquoise asked. “Is that even our job? Once you send in the report, Knight Command will want to send a Mystic.” Nopony missed the shiver of fear that Sergeant Arrow gave.

“We will most likely be recalled and debriefed back in the capital. I’d like to go back with as much information as possible, so until we’re ordered to do otherwise, we’re going to find out as much as we can about this affair, this ‘Galileo’ griffon, and whatever relationship he had with Bubblegum and Wind Storm.” He lifted his muzzle from where it had been resting on his hooves. “You don’t need to fear, Sergeant Arrow. An investigation will be grueling and frustrating, but you’ve done nothing wrong.” Sergeant Arrow blinked, and Emberglow saw there were tears in her eyes.

“You don’t know that, sir. Sometimes, when the Mystics decide you’re guilty of something, they find something for you to be guilty of. Maybe you don’t remember what it’s like being a normal pony.” Delver’s look was stern, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Sergeant Arrow kept going. “I know. I know. I’m sorry to talk bad about other Knights, sir, but you know this only ends badly for me and my marines.” There was a fierceness to her tone. “Damn her. Damn her for doing this to us. To me.” The sergeant clenched her eyes shut and sniffed once. “I’m sorry. She was your friend, right?”

“Yes, she was,” Delver said, and the sadness was pronounced in his tone. “Arrow, I don’t know how much I can promise. But you and your marines took care of me and mine, and I’ll do my best to take care of you. When they do come to investigate, the Mystics will know just how loyal and faithful you have all been. I’ll do everything I can to make sure none of this falls on any of my ponies, besides the traitor who turned her back on us all. I swear on Saint Rainbow the Faithful.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sergeant Arrow said. “I know you mean it.” She didn’t sound incredibly hopeful.

“We’ll need to tell the rest of the marines, at least,” Turquoise said. “They’ll need to keep an eye out for Bubblegum, and know what to do if she shows her face again. Windy and the griffon, too.”

“We don’t need to tell them everything, do we?” Emberglow asked. “If Sergeant Arrow is worried about her marines being caught up in the fallout, maybe we keep them out of this as much as possible.” Sergeant Arrow was already shaking her head.

“I’d rather not keep them in the dark, if it’s possible. If they’re about to be investigated by inquisitors because of what Bubblegum did, I’d like them to be forewarned.”

“I’ll leave it up to your discretion how much you tell your ponies, Sergeant,” Delver said. Sergeant Arrow nodded. “As for us…” Delver let out a loud sigh. “I’m going to send the report via enchanted dragonfire scroll. If they decide to reply the same way, we’ll have a response by tomorrow evening.” He opened one of his desk drawers, pulling out a sheet of the expensive, rare magical communication. “Tomorrow, Emberglow will assist Turquoise in gathering information on the griffon, and anything we can sort out about Bubblegum. That is, when she’s not doing her duties at the prison. We’ll lock down Bubblegum’s house and Wind Storm’s office."

“Blingshine might take issue with us locking out an official government building without any explanation,” Turquoise said. Delver sighed again.

“That’s right. He’s already going to be upset with us,” Delver groaned. “He and Emberglow had a bit of an altercation this afternoon. It might cause us issues. At least we won’t have to deal with him for long. Odds are good we’re gonna be pulled out and reassigned after all this.”

“What kind of altercation?” Turquoise asked curiously.

“Blingshine wanted Emberglow to heal the pirate captain so he could keep torturing him beyond what he normally could have taken. She put her hoof down. It was pretty impressive,” Delver said. His smile was small, but there was some real pride there. It wasn’t much, but she needed a ray of sunshine in this nightmare of a day. “He’s probably trying to come up with some petty way to torment us. Unfortunately for him, we’ll probably all be gone by the middle of next week.”

“You said that before. What do you mean?” Emberglow asked.

“If a Knight is accused or convicted of a crime, they usually move the unit he or she was a part of, whether or not they had anything to do with it. You can expect to say goodbye to Port Luminescence, Emberglow.”

“I’ll manage to contain my sorrow,” Emberglow said, and Turquoise snorted, nearly spewing out the mouthful of hot chocolate she’d just taken.

“What?” Turquoise said when everypony stared at her. “Emberglow isn’t usually sarcastic. It took me by surprise, is all.”

The four ponies took a somber moment, silently drinking their hot chocolate and coffee, waiting for somepony else to say something first. Nopony felt comfortable talking.

“I… just want to go home and go to bed,” Emberglow finally said out loud, her ears slumping. “Is that lazy?”

“No. Not tonight,” Delver said. “You’re recovering. Get some sleep, you can meet up with Turquoise after you feed the prisoners.”

Unsurprisingly, despite how tired she was, Emberglow didn’t sleep much that night.

The orders had, as Delver had predicted, come via enchanted dragon scroll the next evening. They were to stay in Port Luminescence until after the execution of the zebra pirates, then take an overnight airship back to New Canterlot City. A Knight Vigilant and a Knight Mystic were on route to investigate things in the port, while the Knights and marines would be debriefed in the capital.

Blingshine didn’t even kick up a fuss when Delver showed up at his manor and ordered the weather office closed as a crime scene. The governor was surely burning with questions, but Delver had simply informed him that they were soon to be replaced by a Knight Detective and a Knight Inquisitor. It had been enough to nearly give the slimy politician a stroke on the spot, and none of the Knights saw him again until Zuberi’s last day alive. Emberglow felt a grim sort of satisfaction imagining the governor in a panic at the thought that these new Knights might be coming to investigate him.

Unlike in the capital, executions in Port Luminescence were a public affair. There was a large plaza, lined with temporary wooden bleachers, situated just outside the jail. The gibbet was a permanent structure, though it hadn't seen much use in Emberglow's time here. She had imagined it was more a threat of the governor’s authority than a practical execution tool.

Today, however, the suspended platform was decorated by eight oiled nooses hanging from the crossbar. Thirteen steps led up to the platform, a simple structure containing two hinged trapdoors held up by a pair of loose posts in the middle. Once the condemned were arranged and noosed on the trapdoor, the executioner would knock away one of the posts with a large sledge, leaving the prisoners to drop to their doom.

It also had the advantage of putting on quite the show for the bloodthirsty audience coming to watch. It made Emberglow sick to think of the ponies coming to be entertained by the executions, but there had always been those lowlifes who’d gotten a thrill out of mocking the poor souls trapped in the pillories. She supposed no matter where she was, there were always ponies motivated by their baser instincts. She just wanted it all to be over.

At least for the last two days the pirates hadn’t heckled her when she had gone to feed them. There had even been a few reluctant words of gratitude as she had passed them down their daily soup and bread.

Zuberi hadn’t said much more to her besides a single request to speak with Sir Delver. She’d acquiesced and requested his presence. Zuberi’s request had been simple. Could he write a letter and have it sent to New Canterlot City as his last words?

“You know it won’t pass the censors. Whatever you write will be opened and read, most likely by inquisitors of the Knights Mystic,” Delver had explained. The zebra pirate captain had simply shrugged and written his letter anyways. It was currently in an unsealed envelope, sitting on Delver’s desk. Nopony had wanted to read it just yet.

Emberglow arrived at the execution grounds long before most other ponies had started to gather; she hadn’t wanted to deal with any crowds. She needn’t have worried; there was a VIP section of bleachers set aside for the Knights, the governor, and other important ponies who merited a front row seat at the death of a group of condemned criminals.

She pretended not to hear the crowds filtering in behind her, the vendors hawking carnival foods, the gawkers and rubberneckers gossiping and chattering about the zebras and ponies who would die today. The VIP section was sectioned off with a decorative velvet rope. It made Emberglow irrationally angry; she wanted to rip it out of the ground and throw it into the ocean.

“Hard to feel good about an execution, isn’t it?” came a voice from beside her. Turquoise had stepped up and sat down on the bench next to Emberglow while she was lost in thought.

“Justice has to be done,” Emberglow said, ashamed at just how uncertain she sounded.

“There’s justice, then there’s barbarism,” Turquoise noted, waving a hoof to the crowd behind her. “Yeah, these pirates deserve to die. But I don’t think it’s sinful to feel upset at the necessity of it all.”

“I think… I think it’s just been a really rough week,” Emberglow said softly, and Turquoise looked at her. They shared a spontaneous laugh at the obvious understatement, a moment of desperate humor tinged with the release of the tension Emberglow had been feeling.

“No kidding,” Turquoise said. She sighed. “Despite the circumstances, I think I’m going to be glad to be home after all this. No more mud, no more sailors, no more sea air. I’ve had enough sea air for a while.”

“You get to spend more time on your pet project, at least,” Emberglow said, and Turquoise smiled faintly.

“Yes, it’ll be good to see what progress has been made in my absence. I… hang on,” Turquoise cut off as the door to the prison opened dramatically. Several guards emerged, dragging behind them a row of ponies and zebras chained together by a long metal chain threaded through the sets of shackles that bound their legs. The guards were using long staves to clear a path through the crowd, none too gently, towards the gallows. “Duty calls.”

“Doesn’t Port Luminescence have its own Confessors?” Emberglow asked.

“Nopony wanted this task,” Turquoise said with a shrug. “I volunteered. Somepony needs to at least offer them absolution and repentance before they die. Besides, they were our prisoners.” She suddenly nuzzled Emberglow’s cheek. “Maybe your kindness inspired me.” She trotted off towards the guards, who recognized her by her pink robes and allowed her in the front of the grim procession.

A surge of noise came from the crowd; boos and jeers as the assembled common ponies heckled the condemned. Their hatred was obvious, but it made Emberglow wonder. Were they just booing because they had really been harmed by the pirates, or was it just the impassioned surging of a mob?

Bringing up the rear of the procession was Blingshine himself, dressed up in tight black pants and an overly ruffled white shirt, complete with a blue overcoat that was far too ostentatious to be tactful. He didn’t walk, but rather hovered, about two feet off the muddy path, gliding along with gentle flaps of his wings. His face was pleased and haughty; casual arrogance was plastered all over his muzzle.

Emberglow just wanted to hit him in his smug mouth.

The pegasus governor left the procession as they passed the VIP bleachers, floating up so that he hovered in sight of the entire crowd. With a wave, he greeted all of the assembled ponies, receiving a wave of cheering in return. After he was done bathing in their adulation, he came to a gentle landing right next to Emberglow. He smelled of body odor and perfume.

She very deliberately stood up and moved two pony-lengths away from the governor, who smirked. Emberglow didn’t care if she offended the pompous pony; she’d be on an airship out of the Port before the day was done.

The chained pirates approached the long staircase up to the gallows platform. The first pirate, a zebra, managed to give the structure a contemptuous look before the guards began to drag him up the stairs. Every pony chained in the line followed, with Zuberi at the rear. Turquoise was already standing at the top of the platform, her own face a mask of calm serenity. Each of the pirates reacted differently to the gallows, some with contempt, some with the laughter of gallows humor, some with rage and rebellion. Not a single one showed any fear. Captain Zuberi ignored the gallows as if they weren’t even there, stepping up the steps as if they were an obstacle beneath his notice.

Soon, the eight pirates were positioned beneath the dangling nooses that would take their lives. Two executioners, a griffon and a pony both wearing dark hoods to conceal their identities, moved among the prisoners, detaching the chain that held them all in a line together and reattaching a short chain to the shackles that held their four hooves. It would bind their hooves so they would be unable to interfere with the nooses. Then, one by one, each of the condemned had the knotted loop slipped over their heads and tightened around their necks. The prisoners stared forward, some blankly, most defiantly, as the executioners did their work.

Finally it was Turquoise’s turn to do her duty. Emberglow was too far away to hear what the older mare was saying, but the Knight Jubilant approached each of the prisoners in turn, asking if they had any final statements or confessions to make. The zebras just snorted contemptuously at the Knight, which wasn’t too surprising; after all, they were infidels. The ponies among them had an even angrier reaction. A few yelled at her, one spat at her hooves. Turquoise didn’t react, but just went down the line until she reached Zuberi. At the end of the line, he was the closest to Emberglow and the VIP stands. She perked her ears towards the pirate, hoping to catch what was said.

“Do you have any confession you wish to make, prisoner?” Turquoise asked.

“Not to you, you brainwashed shrew,” the pirate said, his eyes slipping over Turquoise as they sought out Emberglow in the stands below him.

As his eyes met hers, she saw no fear, only an odd sort of pity. She shivered slightly, but couldn’t look away as he spoke loud and clear. “For your kindness I’ll tell you this, the path you’ve chosen in life is a miss. Finding out the truth will make you mourn, for the burden is hard to be borne.” With that, he nodded serenely to Turquoise. The guards slipped a black cloth sack over Zuberi’s head, blocking him off from the world. Every one of the prisoners was similarly hooded. A guard stepped to the front of the gallows, holding a scroll.

The official order of execution was long, legal sounding, and Emberglow didn’t hear a word of it. Her gaze was locked on Zuberi, standing shackled, hooded, and noosed, and yet somehow still proud. His last words hadn’t been too shocking. Of course one of the unbelievers like the zebra would think her life choices were mistakes. At the same time, though, he had been surprisingly sure of himself, even in the face of death.

She shook herself out of the thoughts, drawing her attention back to the present. The executioners had finished preparing their victims and had moved below the platforms, to where the long wooden pillars stuck in the ground held up the trap doors. The guard reading the death warrant, and put the scroll away in his saddlebags. Once he was safely off the trapdoor, he respectfully motioned for Turquoise.

“May you make better choices in your next life. Saints have mercy on you,” Turquoise said. “Executioners, do your duty.”

Underneath the trapdoor, both executioners had picked up their heavy metal sledges. The griffon swung first, his sledge connecting with the post with a hard thud. The post jerked, sliding just an inch as the platform above jerked.

The four pirates standing on this platform flinched, and Emberglow could hear one of them cry out in terror. Finally, the crowd had gotten a reaction they were hoping for; they jeered and laughed. The earth pony went next, his sledge striking the post with a thump strong enough to send up slivers of wood. This strike managed to knock the post loose, and it clattered to the ground.

The hinged platform suddenly dropped out from under four of the pirates. More than one of them gave cries of fear, before a sudden and very dramatic crack echoed over the clattering of wood. Emberglow flinched, her eyes clenching shut. She didn’t want to watch this. Her ears pinned back, but she couldn’t stifle the sounds. She was sure she could hear the creaking of the stretched nooses over the jeers of the crowd. Then she heard the sound of metal on wood. The executioners were knocking at the other pillar.

She opened her eyes to look in time to see the second wooden post clatter to the ground, releasing the trap door. This time she couldn’t flinch away quickly enough.

Four pirates dropped, their chained hooves dangling below them, only to come to a stop as the ropes ended their momentum. There was a crack, and four pony necks twisted unnaturally. Each of the pirates dangled in midair, hooves twitching, bodies twisting gently from the drop.

It was too much. She felt the bile rise in her throat. The mental image of the bodies twisting and jerking in the wind burned behind her suddenly clenched eyelids. They all wore the black hoods of the condemned, but in her imagination she could see their faces, eyes open, frozen in eternal horror and pain.

It was all such a wretched waste, and Emberglow had been utterly powerless to change any of it. She wanted to mourn, but didn’t even know who or what she’d be mourning for. Who would mourn a heretic’s death? She was a Knight — shouldn’t this have been her moment of grand victory?

Suddenly it all became too much. The grisly images floating in her mind’s eye; the rowdy mob, cheering at death; her own feelings of inadequacy and wrongness. It was all just too much. With a confused whimper of disgust and shame, she ran behind the bleachers, where less ponies would see her empty her stomach. Some small, cowardly part of herself desperately wished she could stay there forever, away from the crowd, away from the heretics, away from this cruel, destructive world.

But when she closed her eyes, all she saw was eight bodies, hanging limply, twitching and swaying in the wind.

Interlude: Technicalities

Astrolabe yawned as she checked the train station wall clock for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. The train was late. Normally she wouldn’t have minded, but it was three twenty-nine in the morning. Astrolabe needed to be in bed at least four hours ago.

It had been a long day in the hospital. Umbrella Surprise Memorial Hospital was a military medical center located an hour’s train ride back from the border to the Dragonlands. It wasn’t the busiest hospital in the Diarchy — but being the only Radiant stationed there, her days tended to be long and full. Not that she minded. Busy hours kept her from thinking too hard about certain things.

Like your constant sinful thoughts. Like how you’re a failure. Like how you’ve never been able to apply a single bit of Falling Foehn’s advice. Like how you’re now supposed to be a mentor to a younger Knight, showing her the ropes while you barely know what you’re doing.

Pretender.

She shook her head violently to banish her mother’s judgemental voice and tried instead to focus on anything else at all. She started counting floor tiles; the train station was clean but badly in need of repairs. Astrolabe tried to see if she could count how many cracked tiles needed replacement. She wished desperately for somepony to talk to, but at the early hour, the station was silent as a tomb.

Astrolabe was at seventy-three when she heard the sound of an approaching train. She glanced up at the clock; sixteen minutes late wasn’t too bad, she supposed. She took a deep breath and slapped her face with her hooves lightly a few times, trying to wake herself up to present the best possible face to the brand new Radiant who was arriving to serve as her partner in the hospital.

The train pulled into the platform, and Astrolabe stood and trotted over to the doors, wiping her bleary eyes on the sleeve of her white robes. Oh well; at least the train was here finally. She’d be heading back to sleep as soon as the new mare was off the train.

The train screeched to a stop and the door slid open, revealing a shockingly familiar face wearing white robes. A two-tone blonde mane, reminiscent of gently waving grain, framed a beautiful face with sparkling yellow eyes and an oddly embarrassed smirk. Astrolabe couldn’t help as her jaw dropped.

“Green Fields! It’s… er… how… wha?” Astrolabe stammered. Green Fields giggled, stepping off the train and throwing her hooves eagerly around her. Astrolabe froze in shock.

“It’s good to see you too, silly,” Green Fields laughed.

Astrolabe’s heart was pounding in her chest. She was sure her old friend could hear it. Fear and joy, ecstasy and trepidation, filled her to the brim.

Why is she here? Is she a torment sent straight from the Saints? You’re tainted, you’re weak, you’re going to slip up and give into temptation again, aren’t you?

Or maybe you were just a fling, just a toy to be used and thrown away? And she’s here to trip you and toss you down in the mud, where you belong. You’d never really be good enough for her anyways.

It took almost a full second for Astrolabe to resume the mask she wore at times; the one that hid the broiling mass of sin and crazy that went on in her head, usually in her late mother’s voice. “Sorry,” she said shakily. “I didn’t know what to—“ she took a deep breath. “I mean, I’m just so surprised. You never said what Order you were going to join. I was sure you’d be in the Adamant.”

“That was the plan, originally.” Green Fields let go of her friend, with a look of brief reluctance. “But when you told me you were joining the Radiant, I decided to tag along.” She beamed, and Astrolabe’s heart beat even faster even as she once again felt a fake smile spread her lips.

“How did you end up stationed with me, then?” Astrolabe asked. Behind them, the train doors slid closed and Astrolabe winced. “Sorry. I don't mean to interrogate you on a train platform. C’mon, we can talk while we head back to the hospital.”

“Thanks. It was a long ride, and I’d like to stretch my legs.” Green Field took a moment to arch her spine and stretch.

Don’t ogle her, don’t think about that stuff, don’t remember that night, it never happened, it was a fluke, she’ll never—

“As to how I ended up here, well, I have my 'family connections' to thank for that,” Green Fields made air quotes with her hooves when she said it. “I wanted to serve with you, after all. That’s the whole reason I joined the Radiant, really.”

It was the second time she’d said something like that. Astrolabe wondered what it meant with a guilty thrill of pleasure.

“Well, follow me, I’ll show you to the hospital,” Astrolabe said. “I think it’s past my bedtime.”

“Of course,” Green Fields said. “Sorry you had to wake up just to come meet me. I thought it would be the hospital administrator.” The two mares stepped out of the station into the dark night.

Good. It’ll be too dark for her to see your sinful lust painted all over your face. She won’t be able to notice your leering eyes.

“I volunteered,” Astrolabe said, her voice full of admiration. “Lady Stiletto should be retired, but she refused even a medical release from the Knights Adamant, despite having only two remaining legs. They put her in charge as the hospital administrator. I do the physical tasks, but she’s a genius with paperwork and personnel, and she really knows how to squeeze a bit.”

“Wow. Well, at least you’ll have help now, right?” Green Fields said cheerfully, bumping Astrolabe with her flank.

“Y-yeah, it’ll be nice.” Astrolabe tried to ignore the heat filling her face from the close contact. “Um, as long as you’ve studied up on your healing spells for burns.”

“Wow, are they that common?” Green Fields asked, pausing only briefly before answering her own question. “I guess they would be; we’re close to the battle lines with the dragons, after all.”

“Yes, most of our work is long-term care for soldiers wounded by claws or burns.” Astrolabe trotted her way through the small village of Lasthoof (really just a supply depot and a few odd houses and stores near the end of the train line, as well as the hospital) while Green Fields followed.

“Not teeth?” Green Fields asked.

Astrolabe shook her head, then remembered that it was probably too dark to see. “Not really. Most ponies who get that close to a dragon’s mouth don’t make it back to the hospital for long-term care.”

“Oh.” Green Fields sounded sick.

“It’s not too bad. We only see them after first aid and triage.” Astrolabe tried to make her voice comforting.

“Oh, I realize that,” Green Fields said. “I read as much about your hospital when they assigned me here. I just don’t like to see ponies suffering.”

It was a sentiment Astrolabe was surprised to hear from Green Fields.

Neither of you were so quick to feel that way when you were tormenting sponsorships back at the Ivy Seminary. You knew Green was wrong, and you went along with things anyways.

“I…” she paused. “Um—“

“Go ahead,” Green Fields sounded a little amused. “I know you want to ask.”

“What happened? You changed.”

“Does it bother you that I changed?” Green Fields sounded plaintive.

“No!” Astrolabe almost yelped. “You just didn’t go into a lot of details. It’s nice, though.”

“So I wasn’t nice before?” Green Fields teased. When Astrolabe stammered nervously, looking for something to say, Green Fields laughed. “Don’t worry. I know I wasn’t. And I hope I changed enough.”

Enough for what?

“What happened?” Astrolabe tried not to wonder what she meant. She tried to ignore the rush of joy she felt, or the impossible implications that filled her imagination.

“At first, I was so angry,” Green Fields said with a shameful sigh. “I blamed Emberglow, for sure. I spent hours boiling in my own rage. How dare that jumped up little common trash get in the way of my goals?” Her voice was bitter. “I was even angry at you. We were both guilty, but I got punished and you got away.”

“Sorry,” Astrolabe mumbled. She felt her face heating up with shame.

“Don’t be. I was a bitch. I needed a firm kick in the flank.” She snorted. “My great-grandpa stepped in and wouldn’t let me reapply for the Seminary until I’d ‘proved myself a better pony’. He said I needed some serious humbling before I could try again. He was right.”

“What did he do?” Astrolabe hated how nervous she felt. Green Fields was her dearest friend, and she was sounding like a completely different pony.

Dearest friend? That’s not what your sinful thoughts want her to be. You greedy nag, you want more, don’t you? Shame on you.

“He sent me to prison.” Green Fields stated simply. Astrolabe made a shocked sort of yelp, and Green Fields giggled. “Not as a prisoner, silly filly. I was a reluctant volunteer, working under the Knights Vigilant who ran the prison.”

“What were you doing?”

“Mostly I worked in the kitchen, but I also helped with the rehabilitation and reeducation efforts. I’ll tell you more about it later, if you want. But it was what I needed. Humbling, just like Grandpa Fields wanted. I reapplied, became a Squire, and took my vows. Now here I am, with you.”

You like how that sounds way too much.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Astrolabe tried not to sound too happy.

Of course you’re happy. Green Fields is here now. You don’t have to think for yourself anymore, you can just fall into step behind your boss again. Be her perfect flunky, her minion. Just like Emberglow said. Even if Green Fields has changed, it doesn’t matter. You’re still going to be a limp noodle, indecisive and weak.

“So this will be weird, with you being my boss,” Green Fields said, and Astrolabe stumbled in the darkness. It was like Green Fields could read her thoughts. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I’m good at following orders.” She giggled again, but there was enough earnestness in her tone that Astrolabe had to believe her.

She’s really serious. Saints, doesn’t she know you at all? You’re weak, indecisive, stupid. You can’t make your own decisions. You’re spilling over with sinful lust for your best friend, and you hang onto a memory you should have abandoned ages ago. She’ll never love you. She can’t love you. That night was a mistake, created by smuggled alcohol and curiosity. It will never happen again. And when she realizes all that, you’re doomed.

“Astrolabe.” Green Fields’ voice was full of warning. “Asty.” Astrolabe’s heart leapt at the affectionate nickname. “You’re doing that thing. You know, where you get lost in your own thoughts. And they’re never good ones.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Astrolabe huffed. Her mask was slipping. That was bad, especially in front of Green Fields.

Fortunately, the hospital building loomed in front of the mares, providing a convenient interruption to a conversation that had suddenly grown very uncomfortable. “Here we are.”

Unlike the rest of the village, the hospital still had several lights on. It was always open late into the night; ponies’ health didn’t bother with silly things like daylight hours, and neither did the Knights and staff at the hospital. Astrolabe trotted up to the front doors and pushed them open. She didn’t turn to look at Green Fields; she was terrified to see her face.

Coward. Liar.

“Lady Astrolabe!” The night shift nurse, a pegasus stallion named Cool Relief, greeted her as she entered. “Is this our new Knight?”

“Yes, Nurse Cool. This is Lady Green Fields.” The two ponies shook hooves. “How are things in the hospital? Anything I need to look into?”

“Everypony is stable at the moment,” he replied. Astrolabe hadn’t expected much more; they didn’t usually deal with emergency cases at this hospital, but sometimes things happened. “You can probably head to bed.”

“Thank you, Nurse. This way, Green Fields.”

Past the check in station was a long hallway full of patient rooms. Astrolabe had converted one of them into her own personal bedroom; she didn’t need much.

You could have had more than a converted hospital room, if you’d only fought for yourself. Weak. Useless.

“I-I didn’t ask Stiletto for your own room. I didn’t know it was you, but I have plenty of space. I assumed, because of our Oaths of Poverty, that you wouldn’t mind sharing a room.”

“Just like old times?” Green Fields smirked. Astrolabe swallowed nervously, her mind flooding with memories that filled her with lust and regret.

You’re disgusting. You know she wasn’t talking about those old times.

“Yeah,” Astrolabe laughed, silently praying that Green Fields didn’t realize how fake she probably sounded. They reached her room, and she opened the door. “I had a second bed moved in. There’s a desk and a dresser for you as well.”

“It’s perfect. I’m sharing a room with you, after all.” Green Fields blushed when she spoke, and Astrolabe looked away.

You’re pathetic.

“Well, come in,” Astrolabe said. “We should probably sleep.” There was no way she was going to be able to sleep. “We can catch up more in the morning.” She somehow managed to smile at Green Fields. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”

“Me too,” Green Fields’ smile was radiant, and Astrolabe’s stomach started doing backflips. She gently closed the door behind them and trotted over to her bed, setting her saddlebags down at the hoof. Her smile faltered. “Um, Asty? I have to ask you something.” She was whispering, and one hoof rubbed against the other nervously. She turned to face Astrolabe. “You didn’t forget, did you?” Her voice was the merest breath, barely audible, and her question made Astrolabe’s heart do backflips.

“No,” Astrolabe whimpered desperately. Of course she would never forget. How could she forget the feel of Green Fields embrace? The softness of her lips, the touch of her hooves, both passionate and gentle at the same time. The smell of her mane, the feel of her velvet fur. The quiet, needful little noises she made in her passion. Those things were burned into Astrolabe’s memory, permanently etched in stark detail. “I…”

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to!” Green Fields cried. Her eyes were wet. “If you want, we can keep pretending we did forget. I’ll never mention it again. I promise.”

“But I thought…” Astrolabe began, confused and hurting. She didn’t want to forget. She didn’t want to pretend. She’d never wanted that to begin with. She looked for the words, and they didn’t come.

“I know what I said.” Green Fields slashed at the air with a hoof, dismissively. “I was stupid. Afraid. I didn’t understand how I felt. What I was. I thought, maybe if I pretended, chasing after stallions like I was supposed to, maybe then I would change.”

“Green…” Astrolabe had stepped forward, until she was nearly nose to nose with her oldest friend.

“I didn’t change, Asty. I didn’t forget. I didn’t want to forget. I know it’s sinful, but I don’t care. Our oath was that we wouldn’t take a mate, and two mares can’t reproduce, so maybe…” she seemed to realize what she was trying to justify, and trailed off. Astrolabe could barely hear her words over her beating heart. “What I know, who I am, how I feel about you… how can that be bad?” Green Fields shuddered, tears leaking from her eyes to flow down her cheeks. “But I’ll pretend, if you want me to. Just tell me what to do, Astrolabe.”

Hah. She’s given you all the power. Doesn’t she realize how stupid that is? You could never make a decision. You could never take the lead. You could never…

Astrolabe lifted one hoof, resting it on Green Fields’ chest. Green Fields let out a soft yelp of surprise as Astrolabe shoved her backwards onto her bed. With slow, deliberate carefulness, she followed, climbing on top of Green Fields, with her hooves on either side of the other mare’s head. Ruthlessly Astrolabe crushed the voice in her head, forcing silent every doubt, every insecurity, every fear, and every hint of guilt.

“A-Asty?” Green Fields stammered.

“Hush,” Astrolabe ordered, and pressed her lips against her lover’s.

Chapter 15

Official Death Warrant for Knight Bubblegum

Personal correspondence, from condemned prisoner Zuberi the Zebra (Black-and-White Beard) addressed to Peridot Shine, Knights Adamant (deceased). Letter forwarded to Steadfast Word, Knights Mystic.

She is out of your reach, and she is thriving. You lose.

Signed,

Zuberi

1112 AF, New Canterlot City

The air over New Canterlot City was unseasonably cold. Chilly northeastern winds were blowing in over the city, bringing wispy clouds that dusted the air with snow flurries. From the airship, Emberglow could see a team of weather pegasi flitting about the clouds, trying to break them up, or even just push back the larger ones. Emberglow wasn’t close enough to be sure, but she imagined she could see the frantic looks on their faces as they battled the snow clouds. It was, after all, early fall; still far too soon for snow in the city.

They passed over the City Fairgrounds on their way down to the airship docks, and Emberglow saw the very beginnings of the giant effigy being built. It was traditional on Nightmare Night for much of the city to gather and watch as a straw effigy of the great heretic, Sunset Shimmer, was burned. Ponies said the bonfire brought the warmth of the Saints to the entire city for weeks to come. Emberglow shivered. She could sure use a bit of warmth right now.

As the airship circled into the docks for a landing, Emberglow waited for the sense of relief at their homecoming. Instead, there was only a hollowness, a grim foreboding for what was coming. She was not looking forward to the hours, or perhaps even days, of interrogations and debriefings that were probably coming. She spent the last few minutes of the airship’s landing in a funk, her mood perfectly mirroring the overcast skies. When the ship was finally safely docked, she trotted down the gangplank with a sigh, alongside the other morose Knights.

There was a contingent of four Knights waiting for Emberglow, Turquoise, and Delver as soon as they disembarked the airship. While intimidating, it was somewhat gratifying that none of the four were wearing armor, dressed in the robes of their Orders instead. There were two Knights Mystic, a single Knight Jubilant, and much to Emberglow’s pleasure, the familiar figure of Lady Mercy Song, wearing the white of the Radiant.

“Sir Delver?” one of the Mystics, a green pegasus mare, spoke up with a smile. “I am Hollybright. If you and your ponies would follow me, please?” She was very polite, but Emberglow was sure that it wasn’t really a request. “I’m sure your journey has been long and trying, but Command wants the three of you debriefed as soon as possible. We’re here to escort you to the Star Shine building.” The mare grinned. “Don’t worry. We’ve prepared something for you all to eat once you get there.”

“Thank you, Hollybright,” Delver said. “It has been a long few days, so let’s get this over with as quickly as possible.” Behind them, a second group of Knights Mystic arrived to escort the marines to their own debriefing. From what she could overhear, it was less politely worded requests, and more orders for the marines. Sergeant Arrow followed, her face a mask of grim resignation. Emberglow said a silent prayer for the marines, begging the Saints to keep them safe.

The Star Shine Memorial Building had never been such a source of intimidation for Emberglow. She’d often marvelled at the ancient construction, or taken solace in the shadows of its towering walls before her appointments with her sponsor, Steadfast Word. Today, though, the fortress-like architecture, once a symbol of comfort and safety, took on a more sinister aspect. The walls loomed over her, unyielding and cold.

“We’re going to be upstairs, on the second floor. There’s a suite prepared for you to rest while we have our interviews,” Hollybright said cheerfully. The group dutifully trooped up the stairs where, indeed, there was a comfortable conference room laid out with a light buffet on a large central table, surrounded by pillows.

“Sir Gentle Stone and Lady Mercy Song are here to ensure that you are all healed and uninjured from your ordeal. I’ve been told that Mercy specifically requested this opportunity to reconnect with a friend.” She smiled at Emberglow, and Mercy waved. “We’ll start with Sir Delver. I’ll have to ask that none of you discuss the incidents in question with each other. I realize the cat’s probably already out of that bag, but rules are rules. Sir Delver?” she asked, her voice raising at the end in a polite invitation, opening one of the side doors. The other Mystic entered the room first, and Delver followed. With one last smile, Hollybright followed behind him, closing the door behind her.

“It’s so good to see you, Emberglow,” Mercy said, as soon as the door was closed. The elegant Knight Radiant approached Emberglow and took her in her hooves in a tight hug.

Emberglow realized with a start that it had been a while since she’d seen Mercy Song; Emberglow had grown, and now the two mares were the same height. It felt a little odd.

“I just wish it were under better circumstances,” Mercy continued. “You had a hard time on your first mission, didn’t you, sister?”

Emberglow opened her mouth to answer, then looked at the closed door to the interview room. With a small smile, she nodded towards the room and made a zipping lip motion with one hoof.

“I know, you’re not supposed to talk about it. That’s fine.” Mercy Song nodded. “Anyway, I read in my report that you were injured recently. I need to look you over, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Emberglow said. She was mostly healed from her fight with Bubblegum, but there was still an ache in her wings from the sprain, and a rasp in her throat when she spoke. These issues were quickly healed by the skilled Radiant, replacing days of soreness with the sudden sharp pain of magical healing. There was an old sort of familiarity to Mercy’s magical touch, and Emberglow felt herself relaxing with a sigh.

“Now, we can’t talk about what happened, but you can tell me about your adventure on the seas,” Mercy Song said, sitting down at one of the pillows. “Come, eat. Relax, as much as you can.”

It turned out that statement was truer than Emberglow would have thought. There was a tenseness in her that no amount of crudité or fresh-squeezed orange juice would resolve. It didn’t help as she slowly figured out that Mercy Song and the Knight Jubilant, Gentle Stone, were both there to assess their physical and mental conditions, rather than for purely social purposes. Honestly, Emberglow didn’t mind at all, but until she could actually talk about them with somepony friendly, she didn’t think the marathon of her running thoughts would ever stop.

“I feel I have to warn you, Emberglow,” Mercy Song whispered, casting a nervous glance at the door Delver and the Mystics had disappeared into. It broke Emberglow out of her own jumbled thoughts to hear the note of worry in the usually serene mare's voice. “Hollybright seems nice on the surface, but I’m getting a very strange vibe from her. She’s like a hawk that’s spotted wounded prey.” She paused, seeming to choose her next words carefully. “You know some Mystics seem to smell heresy before there’s even any evidence.” Emberglow stared at her, glancing back and forth between her and the closed door. She didn’t know that, really. Her only experience with Mystics had been Steadfast, who had never behaved that way.

“What do you mean?” Emberglow asked, suddenly even more anxious than she had been before.

Mercy’s smile was thin. “Always be careful when dealing with the Mystics, Emberglow. It is their job to be suspicious of everypony, all the time. Maybe Steadfast Word has spoiled you, but he’s one of the nicer ones.”

“What do I do, then?” Emberglow thought back at all the conversations she had with Steadfast. Mercy could be right about her being spoiled; she’d never seen that sort of paranoia from him.

“Be honest, and keep your cool. She’ll try to push your buttons, or put you off balance.”

“I’ll do my best,” Emberglow promised before lapsing into an uncomfortable silence to wait.

The interview with Delver dragged on, though now she had the added worry of Mercy Song’s suspicions. As the time crawled by, Emberglow became decidedly antsy, pacing around the room in worried circles. Boredom and anxiety made a poor mix, and the long wait stoked those feelings until she was nearly vibrating with nervous energy. Turquoise was much more relaxed, at least on the surface, but Emberglow could tell her old mentor was tired of waiting.

Finally, after three hours, the door to the interview room opened, and Hollybright stepped out. Emberglow felt she could almost explode from the combined relief and panic that swept over her.

“Knight Emberglow, you’re next,” Hollybright said, motioning to the open door, and Emberglow’s heart leapt in nervous fear.

The interview room was simple. A desk, adorned with nothing save an odd centerpiece made from a single quartz crystal the size of a tangerine, sat in the middle of the room covered with papers. Emberglow recognized some of the reports she and Delver had sent back about Bubblegum and her crimes. There was a small end table near the door, set up with a pitcher of water and a few cups. The walls were bare, and the room was lit brightly by electric lights hanging down from the ceiling.

There were three pillows for sitting in the room; one was occupied by the other Mystic, an earth pony stallion whose name she hadn’t learned yet. He was wearing a rune gauntlet, and held a quill in the other hoof. He was scribbling notes on another sheet of paper.

“Have a seat, Emberglow,” Hollybright said, motioning to the lone pillow on one side of the table. “Get comfortable. This might take a while.”

“Of course,” Emberglow said, as she sat. Hollybright also arranged herself on the other side of the table, and made a bit of a show of shuffling the papers around while she looked for a particular report. Emberglow tried not to stare, but watched closely for a hint of what Mercy Song had mentioned. Maybe she was imagining things, but there was something to what Mercy had said; Hollybright’s smile was just a little too wide, too fake. Her eyes were shifty, darting about, watching without trying to look like she was watching too closely.

“This is Sir Coal Shadow. He will be taking notes while you and I speak, okay?” Hollybright said, and Emberglow nodded. “Now, I want to start at the incident that led you to Bubblegum’s house. Tell me about the argument between you and Blingshine in the prison.”

It was not where Emberglow had expected the questioning to begin. With some hesitation, she began telling the story, beginning with Blingshine’s repulsive request, her own refusal, and Delver’s silent support.

“Do you feel like you made a wise choice?” Hollybright asked, her voice light and far too innocent. “Your actions may have lost us an important tool in Port Luminescence. It may take months for future Knights to undo the damage you have done with your rash decision.”

“It was the right decision,” Emberglow kept her voice even, despite the surge of anger she felt at Hollybright’s suggestion. “What he was asking for violates the spirit of what Lady Rarity stands for. I wouldn’t betray my Saint like that.” Hollybright sat back slightly, holding her hooves up to placate her.

“I’m sure you felt that way at the time. I was just asking about the advisability of your decisions.” Again her voice was far too innocent, but there was a hint of triumph, as if she were pleased she’d teased a reaction out of Emberglow.

“I stand by what I did,” Emberglow replied, trying not to sound defensive. Hollybright nodded and smiled.

“If you say so.” Hollybright said. Emberglow hated the cheerful little smile on her face; it was a mask that let nothing of what was inside out. “Let’s move on. After you alienated the governor, what happened next?”

Emberglow continued the story, telling about flying off to Bubblegum’s house, about knocking, about how there had been no response. She described the house, stopping every so often when Hollybright asked to clarify a detail or expand on a statement. Even the smallest of details seemed important to the Knight Mystic. Emberglow didn’t question it, she simply tried to answer every question as thoroughly as she could. Finally she got to the part when she walked into Bubblegum’s bedroom.

“I’m sorry if the details are a little unclear here,” Emberglow apologized. “I was in shock. I still am, a bit. You have to understand, this came out of nowhere.”

“Of course, Emberglow. Just tell me what you remember.” Hollybright somehow still held that infuriating smile.

Emberglow continued her story. She told of stepping into the room, the horror at seeing her fellow Knight underneath the griffon, their naked bodies carnally entwined. At some point in the story she had to stand, taking a short break to get a cup of water from the side table by the door. Even with Mercy Song’s healing, her voice still felt hoarse. She moved on to the escape, the brief, desperate conversation Bubblegum had had with her griffon lover, and the fight afterwards.

“You had your rune gauntlet with you. Didn’t you think to cast spells?” Hollybright asked. Emberglow shook her head.

“No, I didn’t,” she answered. “To be honest, I was completely shaken. I never expected what happened, and I think, somewhere deep inside, I didn’t quite believe that she’d ever even attack me. I wasn’t ready for what happened.”

“Of course,” Hollybright said gently. “Continue, please.” Emberglow told her of the end of the fight, with Bubblegum sobbing her apologies as she strangled Emberglow into unconsciousness on the bed. She told about waking up, and the meeting afterwards with Sergeant Arrow. When she finished, Hollybright paused for a moment for her assistant to catch up on his notes before asking more questions.

“Now, I’m going to ask some difficult questions here, Emberglow. Please answer them as honestly as possible,” the inquisitor said. Emberglow nodded warily, her ears drooping slightly. “I need to know as much about Bubblegum as possible. My impression is that she always had a loose relationship with propriety and decorum.”

“That’s certainly true,” Emberglow said with a snort. “I don’t think she had any sort of respect for authority, or the chain of command. I think the only Knight she had any regard for was Delver.”

“Why is that, do you think?” Hollybright asked.

“I believe they were friends. Delver was devastated when it all happened. We all felt betrayed, but I think he felt personally betrayed by a friend.”

“Interesting,” Hollybright said. “How would you characterize the relationship between Bubblegum and Sir Delver?”

“Friendly. He seemed to understand her peculiarities, and she actually listened to his instructions and orders.”

“Did he encourage her insubordination towards other figures of authority?” Hollybright asked.

“Not that I saw,” Emberglow said carefully.

“We believe she had been engaging in her illicit relationship with Galileo the griffon for several months. It seems unlikely to me that Delver had no hint whatsoever of what was happening. Tell me, do you believe it is possible she was doing something for him in exchange for his silence on the subject?”

Emberglow stared at the inquisitor, floored by the implication. Bubblegum, bribing Delver for his silence? There was no way. It was a disgusting idea, and her ears pinned back in anger as she nearly rose to her hooves.

“No chance at all,” Emberglow said firmly. It was nearly a snarl. Hollybright raised her eyebrows in skeptical judgement.

“Are you sure? Your loyalty does you credit, Emberglow, but you didn’t know either of those ponies for very long. By all reports, Bubblegum was a very sexual creature. Perhaps she was using her wiles to charm or seduce Sir Delver.”

“I…” Emberglow fought against the urge to rail and yell at the Knight Mystic, and actually forced herself to pause and consider the possibility. Hollybright smiled her aggravating smile, giving Emberglow a moment to think.

She supposed Hollybright was right; Emberglow didn’t know either of the Knight Adamants very well. In fact, while on Lady Elegant, she had deliberately avoided Bubblegum as much as possible, despite sharing a cabin on the ship with her. “I suppose it might be possible,” she began slowly, hating every word as they left her mouth. “But very unlikely. That’s the sort of plan that requires thinking ahead. Planning for consequences. Bubblegum didn’t strike me as a mare very capable of much foresight.”

“But she did have a backup plan for if she were caught,” Hollybright countered. “Wind Storm and Galileo were prepared with bugout bags.”

“I don’t know, but I would guess that she wasn’t the brains behind their back up plan,” Emberglow said. “She seemed the kind of mare to leave the planning to other, smarter ponies.”

“Okay,” Hollybright said. “Let’s move on from that for now, though. I want to talk about your own sexuality.”

Emberglow felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped down her back. Of course she should have realized that the Knights Mystic would have access to everything, including files of her confidential conversations with her Confessors over the years. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but this was not a conversation she was prepared to have. It was obvious that Hollybright’s goal had been to set her off balance. There was a clear satisfied smirk to her smile as Emberglow mentally stumbled for an appropriate response.

“I don’t know how it will help your investigation, but I’ll help however I can,” Emberglow replied, her heart pounding with a terror she tried not to let show. “You should note in my Confessor’s file, which I’m sure you’ve seen, that I’m non-practicing.” That was the same phrase used in the medical file she’d seen for Gadget.

“Are you? Hmm,” Hollybright said, still smiling. Emberglow suppressed a shiver. “I’ve already established that the three of you were responsible for your teammate. You should have been aware of the path she was walking down, and maybe even stopped it before it got too far. I think, if you look deep within yourself, you will recognize that maybe none of you did quite enough to protect her from herself.”

“I… well maybe, but…”

“So to follow up that thought,” Hollybright continued, ignoring Emberglow’s stuttering. “I need to know what role, if any, you believe your own perversion may have played in Bubblegum’s corruptive decisions?”

“What?” Emberglow cried, gaping. “None whatsoever! How could you… why would you even… I don’t even…”

Both of the Knights Mystic glanced at the crystal in the center of the table, before looking back at Emberglow. It took the momentum out of Emberglow’s shock and outrage, as she wondered what was so special about the crystal.

“I don’t even think Bubblegum was really aware that I’m gay,” Emberglow said. Saying the words out loud was strange and alien; she rarely if ever discussed her sexuality out loud. “I certainly never told her about it. I keep it private, as you should know if you read my file.”

Again the two ponies glanced at the crystal. Emberglow looked at it herself. It was an unpolished quartz crystal, set in a simple round wooden setting. It was a cloudy white with blue imperfections. There was nothing special about it that Emberglow could see. She looked back at Hollybright.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to help your investigation much,” Emberglow said. “I’m still happy to answer whatever you want, though.” With that, the crystal in the center of the table began to glow a gentle blue light. The two Knights looked at each other, and Hollybright giggled.

“You’re not exactly happy to be here, are you?” she said, looking at the crystal, which began to fade, losing its glow. Suddenly Emberglow understood.

“That crystal… you’ve cast Moonbeam’s Truthful Aura on the crystal!” she exclaimed. “Let me clear something up for you, then.” She leaned far over so that she was speaking directly to the quartz. “I had no idea what Bubblegum was doing. I don’t believe anything I did contributed to her choices. Me being gay had nothing to do with Bubblegum’s bestiality.” The crystal remained quiescent.

If Emberglow had thought that would fully satisfy the Mystics, however, she was mistaken. Their conversation still continued for another hour, with Hollybright grilling her over every little thing. It was quite the relief to finally be invited to leave, albeit by a somewhat grudging Hollybright. She exited into the conference room and its much diminished buffet.

“Thank you, Lady Emberglow. You are under strict orders not to leave yet, in case we have any follow up questions after we are done interviewing Lady Turquoise,” Hollybright said. Her demeanor had lost it’s friendly facade, replaced by a grumpy sternness.

“Actually, Lady Hollybright, do you mind if Emberglow and I use the other interview room?” Mercy Song asked. Hollybright considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I assume your earlier restrictions on conversation are lifted.” Again, Hollybright nodded, this time a bit more reluctantly. Mercy Song clopped her hooves together happily. “Thank you! Come with me, Emberglow!” the Knight said excitedly. Emberglow followed her into the second interview room.

This one was not as prepared as the first one; the table lacked the paperwork of the other, and there were no pillows, pitchers of water, or enchanted crystals. Mercy Song took a look around, and with an impatient sigh, trotted back into the conference room and snagged a few of the pillows there to drag into the empty interview room. The two old friends then sat down.

“So, how are you?” Mercy asked, once the door was closed. It was clear she wasn’t just asking about Emberglow’s physical wellness.

“I’ve been better,” Emberglow said tiredly. It meant the world to her to see Mercy Song’s sympathetic smile. Here there was no obligation to watch what she said, to curb her speech. There was none of the uncomfortable paranoia she had felt while talking to Hollybright. “I was the medical officer on duty for the hanging of eight pirates. It was just days after what happened with Bubblegum. I don’t think I’ve been coping all that well, to be honest.”

“How so?” Mercy Song asked.

“I didn’t do well at the execution. After the trapdoor dropped and the… um… prisoners dropped, I had to go throw up before I could verify that the prisoners had died.”

“And?” Mercy asked.

“What do you mean, ‘and’?” Emberglow asked miserably. “I’m a failure as a doctor, Mercy. What kind of medic can’t even stand to look at death? What happens when things get worse? Saint’s mercy, these were hardened criminals! Murderers! They deserved to die, Mercy. But I couldn’t even look without getting sick.”

“A failure as a doctor, Emberglow? You might be being a little overdramatic,” Mercy said. “I don’t think anypony with an ounce of compassion wouldn’t balk at watching a brutal execution like that, and you have quite a bit more than an ounce. There is nothing wrong with you, Emberglow. You’re a perfectly good doctor, and throwing up at a sight like that doesn’t make you any less of one.”

“But I’m supposed to be more than just a doctor,” Emberglow continued. “I became a Knight to protect and heal, not to end life.”

“I know,” Mercy Song said soothingly. “I won’t sugar coat it, Emberglow. As a Knight Radiant, you’ve a fine line to walk. You are called to defend the weak from the enemies of the Diarchy, and to heal the wounds and sicknesses of its citizens. Sometimes a surgeon has to use his tools to cut out the tumorous or necrotic tissue.” She sighed, reaching over to gently touch Emberglow’s cheek. “And some ponies just don’t enjoy performing surgery. That’s not to say they’re not skilled at it when they have to be. And that’s fine, Emberglow.”

“Some Knight I am, that struggles with watching death like that. I’m supposed to be able to deal it to our enemies.”

“Nopony is perfect at everything, Emberglow. You know that. You’re being too critical of yourself,” Mercy Song said.

“I’m not the only one who’s being critical of me,” Emberglow said, her voice nearly a whisper. Mercy’s ears perked towards Emberglow’s voice; the wise older mare knew what she meant.

“What did the Knight Mystic imply, Emberglow?”

That opened the door, and Emberglow clenched her suddenly wet eyes shut.

“She said…” Emberglow whispered, her voice coming out harsh. “She said it was our fault. Our responsibility that Bubblegum did what she did. If we had been more faithful, if we had been more vigilant. Maybe if we hadn’t been full of sin and corruption…”

“Emberglow. Stop it now. The Mystics are just doing their job, looking for every angle on this thing. You know you’re not responsible for the decisions of that idiot traitor, Emberglow.” Mercy Song had come around the table and circled Emberglow about with her hooves. She was warm, and her fur was soft. Her robes smelled of fresh detergent.

“But what if she’s right?” Emberglow whined, hating how much like a foal she sounded. She burned with shame and anger as she dragged the next words out of her mouth. “They asked me if they thought my… if they thought my being gay had anything to do with it.” She’d never told Mercy Song. She’d never told her parents, or Turquoise. She was terrified.

Mercy Song was clearly surprised; she gave a little gasp; the hoof she held up to her lips in shock would have been comical, if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation. “Oh. Oh Emberglow, I’m so sorry she asked that,” she said.

“You’re not…”

“Not what, Emberglow? Afraid? Judgmental? Disgusted?” Mercy shook her head. “You’re not the first mare to join the Radiant because the Saints gave her this trial. I’ve met several myself. You have been blessed with a sore trial which will only make you stronger as you overcome it. You have chosen a noble way to face your challenge, Emberglow, and I only respect you all the more for it.”

“Thank you, Mercy,” Emberglow breathed. “You have no idea what it means to hear that.”

The conversation faded into safer territory, and the mares spoke about superficial things; Emberglow hadn’t had a chance to write her best friend Lofty as much as she’d liked during her brief stay in the Port, and Mercy had kept in touch with her former squire. They also spoke about other things; Mercy had recently accepted a position teaching at the Ivy Seminary. There was a dire need for more Knights Radiant, and Knight Command thought that having more Radiants as teachers at the Seminary might lead to more mares considering the order as an option. They were lost in their conversation, and didn’t even realize the hours passing until there was a knock on their interview door.

“Are you two finished?” Turquoise asked as she poked her head in the room. “Hollybright says we are done for the day.”

“Just for the day?” Emberglow asked, though she still felt buoyed by her earlier conversation with Mercy Song.

“We’ve been ordered not to leave New Canterlot City, but otherwise are on leave until further notice. I don’t think they’ll need us more, but we’ll see. For now, I’m tired of this building. I’m going to make sure they haven’t cleared out my old quarters while I was gone,” Turquoise said.

“What about you, Emberglow? Would you like to walk back to Diamond Home with me?” Mercy Song asked. Emberglow shook her head.

“No, I’d like to check in with my parents.” Emberglow had only spent a month at the Radiant’s New Canterlot City headquarters, just after her Knighting, and she would much rather sleep in a more familiar bed “With how weird things became as soon as the ship got back to Port Luminescence, I only had time for one letter, and I wasn’t able to let them know I was coming home. I’d like to surprise them."

“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled. You’ll be spending the night there, then?”

“I hope so,” Emberglow said. “They don’t exactly know I’m coming home, so I don’t want to impose my company if they can’t have me for some reason.”

“They’re your parents, Emberglow. Your mom is going to be ecstatic. Go home and surprise them. I’ve been asked to tell you that you’re officially unassigned for at least a week. You have nothing to do but stay in town and be on hand for if the Mystics need to speak with you again. If I may suggest, however, you should probably check in at Diamond Home sometime during the week, if only to let them know where to find you if they have any messages.” Mercy Song gave Emberglow one last hug, and the group of ponies filtered out of the Star Shine Building. Emberglow said her goodbyes to Delver, Mercy, and Turquoise, before trotting off in the familiar direction of home. Soon her trot became a gallop. After her talk with Mercy, Emberglow thought the comfort of her childhood home might be just what she needed.

It was the first time she’d been home since she took the oath of Knighthood. Her parents had always come to see her, like at the airship dock, rather than the other way round. It felt weird walking down this street; her life was so different, so changed now from when she had lived on Emerald Street that she expected the street to have changed as well. It had, in a way.

There were the same shops, the same locals, the same sights and smells and sounds. But the ponies had changed. Rather than cheerful waves and polite greetings, she received nervous bows and shuffling out of her way. These were ponies she’d known for years, and they didn’t even seem to recognize her. If they did, they didn’t show it, slipping out of her way like water parting before the prow of Lady Elegant. The streets were busy and a little crowded, but Emberglow never had to step around ponies, and never felt the need to spread her wings and take to the air.

The biggest change, however, was Oak Chip’s shop. It was closed, with boarded windows. The beautiful, hoof-carved sign was missing, and there was a broken window that had been hastily covered with cardboard. All of the other ponies nearby were ignoring the shop as if it didn’t exist. Emberglow trotted closer, noting the ‘for sale’ sign in one of the unbroken windows. She looked around for somepony to ask about her friend, but none of the ponies around would meet her gaze. Emberglow wasn’t always the best at picking up social ques, but it was clear nopony wanted to think about this boarded up storefront, let alone tell her about it. Oh well; her parents would know where Oak Chips was. Emberglow wasn’t too worried about the gruff old pony. He was far too cranky to die, after all. He said so himself, frequently.

Emberglow trotted next door to her family’s shop. The bell over the door announced her entrance into a storefront that was full of ponies browsing the wares. Needle Point was minding the til, and she didn’t even look up from the customer she was helping when she called out.

“Welcome to Needle Point Textiles, be with you in a minute!”

“I can wait,” Emberglow called back, grinning. Of course, her mother instantly recognized her voice. With a cute shriek of joy, she leaped over the counter and shoved her way between the shoppers into Emberglow’s hooves. The customers looked up in indignation, but nopony was willing to say something that might offend a Knight. Rank did have its privileges. “Hi, mom.”

“Oh my gosh Embergl… ahem. I mean, Lady Emberglow. Your last letter didn’t say you’d be coming back so soon, I only just got it yesterday!” her mother gushed, squeezing her with all the strength of her earth pony hooves. Emberglow giggled like a filly. This was exactly why she’d needed to come home.

“There was a bit of a change of plans,” she hedged, not wanting to burden her parents with the whole story just yet. Certainly not in a room full of her parents’ customers. Emberglow watched as a perceptive frown of concern clouded her mother’s previously jubilant expression, complete with a fierce flashing of her eyes. Emberglow shook her head. “Not now. Later.” Needle Point nodded slowly, looking uncertain, but Emberglow smiled reassuringly. “You need to see to your customers. Need any help?”

The idea of a Knight, wearing her official robes of office, standing around doing customer service in a tiny tailor’s shop clearly bothered Emberglow’s mother, and she was quick to shake her head frantically in denial, much to Emberglow’s amusement.

“No. No thank you, Lady Emberglow. You can head back into the back room and talk to your father. I’ll help the customers out here. It’s so good to see you, sweetie.” Her mom giggled again. “Lady Sweetie.”

Oh by all the Saints, it was nice to hear that endearment from her mother.

“Okay mom, be nice to the customers. I’ll go say hi to dad.”

The back room was still the same. Textile sat at a sewing machine, his back to the door, working on a pair of suit pants. He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, and was concentrating on some fine detail.

“Needle Point, honey? Did you need something?” he asked without looking up.

“Well, there are a lot of customers in the store. And apparently a Knight just walked in,” Emberglow said, unable to resist the opportunity to tease her father.

“What! Oh! Emberglow! You’re home!” her father said, shutting off the machine and turning around. Emberglow smiled; though the greeting lacked the sheer enthusiasm of her mother’s hug, the love in her father’s eyes was just as good.

“I had some unexpected leave,” she said. “You don’t mind that I came home to visit, do you?”

“Of course not. You’re staying the night?” it was almost a statement, not a question.

“If you’ll have me,” she said. Her father gave her a stern look, gazing at her over the rim of his glasses.

“Emberglow, this is your home. You will always be welcome, you know that.” The words filled her with warmth.

“Okay, but I’m helping in the shop until you close,” she insisted. He looked like he wanted to protest, but she gave him a mock stern look and he subsided with a low chuckle.

Since Emberglow had learned sewing as a foal, she asked for a list of simple repairs and alterations that she knew she could do herself, and banished her father from the room so he could help her mom while Emberglow did the backroom tasks. It was comforting to fall into familiar patterns; fix this stitch, hem these pants, add a patch or a repair here. She lost herself in the labor, letting the ambient sounds of the shop outside the door soothe her into a near trance of relaxing labor.

In the end, her parents did close an hour early. Emberglow insisted she wanted nothing more special than a night at home with her parents, but they wanted to treat her, so she graciously allowed it. Textile prepared her favorite (pancakes and strawberries for dinner) and they shared the first family dinner in months. It was all incredibly pleasant and comfortable, until she asked about Oak Chips.

“So, I noticed that Oak Chip’s store is closed. What happened to him?” she asked. Her parents froze. Textile was in the middle of chewing a bite of pancake, and he stopped suddenly. Needle Point had been raising a fork to her mouth, and she actually dropped the fork and the bite, the utensil clattering against the ceramic plate with a loud clatter. Both of her parents glanced at each other, then down at their food. “What?” Emberglow was confused.

“We’d rather not talk about it,” Needle Point muttered, earning a hard look from her husband.

“Talk about what? Mom, what happened to him?” Emberglow asked, a feeling of alarm rising in her.

“Two weeks ago he vanished,” Textile said softly.

“Vanished? Without a trace? Did anypony call the constables? The Vigilant?”

“Lady Emberglow, it was Knights that took him,” her father said, his voice rather formal. “He didn’t just vanish. He was vanished.”

With that simple statement, Emberglow instantly understood several things. Oak Chips had been arrested by the Mystics, most likely for some form of heresy. When a pony was ‘vanished’, they weren’t arrested publicly. Nopony was supposed to witness the act of vanishing a pony. Ponies even tried to pretend that those who had been vanished had never existed at all, lest they too draw the inquisitive eye of the Mystics

The formality of her father’s tone, and the use of her title, also spoke to the gulf that had now grown between Emberglow and her parents. It was surprising, and a little sad, to know that she had been lucky enough to raise her station in life and society, while in a way leaving them behind her, and beneath her. The moment broke her heart a little. Even though she’d chosen this path, she’d never considered the collateral damage it would deal to her relationships.

“I’m sorry I asked, then,” Emberglow said carefully. She could feel the fear and tension in the room, and some of it was even directed at her, if the nervous glances Needle Point was shooting at her were any indication. Logically, it made sense; she was a Knight now, she was different from them, and separate. If they asked too many questions, showed too much interest in a disappeared pony like Oak Chips, it would be Knights like Emberglow that came for them, too. She was on the other side.

“What are you apologizing for, Lady Sweetie?” her mother said, managing to keep most of the nervousness out of her voice.

“Nothing at all, mom,” Emberglow said. She was perfectly happy pretending the conversation had never happened.

“So we weren’t expecting you back from pirate hunting yet.” Needle Point’s voice still held a bit of her earlier discomfort. “What brought you home early? We only got your last letter yesterday. It said you were in a battle!”

This was something she could seize onto. A thrilling tale of adventure on the high seas, deliberately edited to exclude the morally difficult moments, and with the conclusion already known, so her mother didn’t have to worry too much.

Emberglow told her parents about Lady Elegant and her captain, about the ill-fated ship’s cook, Tangerine, and even about the frustrating yet combat-skilled Bubblegum. She found herself getting into the storytelling, playing up the heroism of the other ponies, especially Delver and the marines. It was fun, and Needle Point was nervous without being too nervous; after all, the events were past and done.

She described the sights and smells of battle, how she had felt, and the fear that had burned in her as she’d faced off against the unicorn and her shield. She told them about the face off in the hold of the pirate ship, and Zuberi locking himself in the brig with the gunpowder. She was trying to downplay her own role, but she didn’t bother to downplay the spell she had cast that had saved all four knights, and the captain (accidentally) from the blast that had eventually sunk the pirate ship. Her parents made appropriately impressed noises.

“What happened after you got back to the Port?” her mother asked, when Emberglow finished the tale with Lady Elegant limping back to Port Luminescence.

“That part of the story is much less interesting,” Emberglow said, a bit uncomfortably. There was nothing she wanted less than to tell them about what happened to Bubblegum.

She wasn’t under explicit orders not to share what had happened, but the gulf that had grown between her and her parents reared its ugly maw again; Bubblegum was a Knight. Disgraced and sentenced to death, of course, but still one of the family. Her new family. She was a part of a world that her parents weren’t involved with. Telling them about the disgraced Knight felt like airing too much dirty laundry in front of her parents; it was not appropriate.

“There was an execution of the prisoners, of course. I had to oversee it and pronounce their deaths. That part… wasn’t nice.” She shuddered. This she could talk about, however unpleasant it was.

Needle Point and Textile were appropriately sympathetic to her struggles at the hanging, of course. Textile even understood her issues, having dealt with death on and off the battlefield in his own experiences in the military. The conversation became so involved that Emberglow’s mother forgot to ask why she’d come home so unexpectedly. When it did come out that she’d had an overnight flight, followed by a lengthy debriefing (Emberglow implied the debriefing had been in regards to the pirate battle, a small deception that still made her feel dirty) her mother insisted she get some rest. Her bedroom, of course, was untouched.

“I only ever go in there to dust, sweetie. All of your things are just like you left them. Your bed is even made. We’ll let you rest. You have to go in the morning?”

“Yes, I have some errands to run,” Emberglow said honestly. If anypony knew how she’d have to go about finding out about a ‘vanished’ pony, it would be somepony in the Vigilant or the Mystic. Good thing she had contacts in both; though this wasn’t something she wanted to bring up with Steadfast Word unless she absolutely had to. She’d been meaning to visit Lofty Tale as soon as possible anyways, though. “I would like to stay for breakfast, however.”

“As long as it’s something other than pancakes,” her mother said chidingly. “They’re not everypony’s favorite.”

“Anything will be fine, mom,” Emberglow assured her mother as she left her alone in her bedroom. She didn’t have much trouble falling asleep that night, surrounded by the comforts of home and warm, familiar bedding.

The next morning she shared breakfast with her parents: grapefruit with eggs and toast. She bid them goodbye and set off for the Hall of the Upright, the headquarters for the Knights Vigilant. Today, there were a few ponies in the stocks in front of the justice building. Idly Emberglow wondered who would be feeding them today. She also thought about how many, just like July Blaze or Zuberi, would be twitching, bound, at the end of a rope around their neck. She tried not to shudder at the thought.

There were several Knights Vigilant around, dressed in either their orange robes or their orange armor. Emberglow looked around, hoping to happen upon her friend, but she had no such luck. She entered the front doors and approached the reception desk in the center of the wide entry hall.

“May I help you, ma'am?” the secretary, an earth pony stallion dressed in civilian clothing sitting behind the desk.

“Yes, you may. My name is Lady Emberglow. I’m a friend of Knight Lofty Tale, but I have no idea where he’s currently stationed except that he’s been assigned to this building. I have some free time and I was hoping to reconnect with him. Can you tell me where his office is? ”

“Knight Lofty Tale, ma’am? He’s on the fifth floor, office number five-oh-nine.”

“A private office? He’s come up in the world,” Emberglow said with a smile.

“Sir Lofty is one of our most talented investigators, Lady Emberglow,” the secretary said with a grin. It made sense that Lofty was popular with the civilian staff; he had always been charismatic. She thanked him for the information and moved up the stairs towards the fifth floor.

The doors of each office were made of wood, with a nameplate next to each door. She found Lofty Tale’s office easily enough, and smirked to see that it indeed was labeled with his name and rank. She reached out and tapped on the door with her hoof.

“Come in!” came Lofty’s voice from inside the office. “You’re early, Gimlet. Did you have any luck…” Emberglow turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. “Oh! Emberglow! You’re not Sir Gimlet.”

“Nope, I’m not,” Emberglow said cheerfully as she stepped into her friend’s office. “Hi, Lofty.”

Lofty Tale’s office was an explosion of paperwork. There were three bulletin boards hanging from the walls, each one full of dozens of pins. The boards were full of newspaper articles, sketches of various ponies and locations, and even the odd photograph. He had a desk, which was also stacked with papers. There were two picture frames on the desk, and Emberglow was gratified to see a photo of Lofty and herself, still in their squire robes, taken just after they had reconciled as friends after their falling out. The other was a picture of Lofty standing next to two unfamiliar mares, both dressed in high society dresses, while Lofty wore a suit. The walls were covered by the bulletin boards and a large glass window that let in plenty of sunlight. The room was lit by the sun, but Emberglow saw a shaded electric light installed in the center of the office, in the ceiling. Lofty stood, rising from the pillow he was sitting on behind his desk and dashed around to embrace his best friend.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Lofty said. “You never said you’d be coming back so soon.”

“My assignment ended rather abruptly when I happened upon one of my teammate Knights in bed with a griffon.”

“What?” Lofty chuckled. “That’s a laugh, Emberglow.” He released the hug, finally catching the look in her eyes. “Oh, Saints. You’re serious. Really? A griffon? And they were…”

“I saw the whole thing. They were definitely…” Emberglow took a deep breath. Talking about sex made her uncomfortable. “He was mounting her. They were naked.”

“Wow. So what happened?” he asked. “Wait, why are we standing in the doorway? Have a seat.” Lofty absently motioned behind him.

Emberglow’s gaze followed his hoof to a stack of papers piled on the floor. She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh.” He grinned sheepishly, and gently shifted the papers to the side onto the floor to reveal a pillow. Emberglow laughed as she sat.

“Well, I surprised them, we argued, and the griffon escaped while she attacked me. You remember how good I am in a fight, so you can guess how that ended.”

“Poorly?” Lofty asked with a smirk. Emberglow nodded.

“Well, I don’t remember much, but there was some strangling involved, and involuntary unconsciousness…” Emberglow grinned. She didn’t understand why, but there was something comforting about joking with her friend about one of the most upsetting things she’d ever experienced. “You can guess what happened next. We were recalled, and I spent some quality time having a rather unpleasant chat with a Knight Mystic yesterday.”

“Makes sense.” Lofty nodded. “No new assignment?”

“Not yet,” Emberglow said. “I’m on free time. Are you busy? I kinda have a favor to ask.”

“Of course!” Lofty . “Anything for a friend. What do you need?”

“I want to know what the best way is to find out about a pony who’s been arrested while I was gone,” Emberglow asked. Lofty looked puzzled.

“Well, you’d need an arrest number at the very least. The name of the arresting constable may help, or even the precinct he or she was taken to.” It was interesting the way he immediately changed gears, becoming businesslike. It was impressive, really, reminding her that he was one of the youngest investigators in the history of the Vigilant.

“What if this wasn’t an official arrest?” Emberglow said slowly, wondering what his keen and observant mind would make of all this.

“What do you mean, like an illegal arrest?” Lofty screwed his face up in confusion.

“No. This pony was vanished. Probably by Knights Mystic.”

“You’re looking into the arrest of a heretic?” Lofty asked, gaping slightly. “Emberglow, that’s…” he trailed off, pausing while he eyed her. “That’s a little different. Dangerous, even. How much do you know about the jurisdictional rivalry that goes on between the Vigilant and the Mystic?”

“Nothing, really,” Emberglow said, a little sheepishly.

“I see. Well, the Mystics and Vigilant are both law enforcement arms of the Knights, right? But there’s a bit of overlap when it comes to heresy. Technically, the Mystics are in charge of investigating heresy, which includes unicorns. Vigilants are in charge of making arrests and running trials. So what happens when a Mystic wishes to arrest a heretic, but for reasons of their investigation, doesn’t want that arrest to be public? All criminals are entitled to a trial, but what if that trial would reveal details of ongoing investigations? What if the heretic might still have useful information? The Mystics claim to have discretionary powers in those circumstances to perpetually detain those suspected heretics, even to try them in secret and even perform punishment. This sometimes steps on the hooves of us Vigilants, who believe we have the sole power to try cases and execute judgement.”

“That sounds complicated.” Emberglow’s muzzle wrinkled in disgust. She had always hated the element of politics that seemed to float like a miasma over the Knight Orders.

“It can get complicated, yeah. Most of the time, if the Vigilant find evidence of heresy when investigating other crimes, we usually try to get in touch with the Mystics to investigate side by side. Jurisdictional pissing matches are easier to avoid that way, though the Mystics rarely offer us the same courtesy.” He paused, and his voice lost the businesslike character. “Um, Emberlgow, this is dangerous territory.”

“So how would I go about finding out what happened to this pony?” Emberglow asked, ignoring his obvious concern.

He sighed, eyeing her before answering. “There might have been an arrest record if the Mystics got in touch with one of us, but I doubt it. You may have to ask your Mystic friend. Although it’s possible, because you are a Knight as well, that you could just request the information at the Star Shine building,” Lofty said. “So, who is this mystery pony?”

“You’ve met him. It’s Oak Chips, my next door neighbor. He’s the one who dragged you off the street when you were…” Emberglow trailed off, embarrassed on behalf of her friend. It was clear from the displeasure on his face he didn’t want to remember the encounter either. “He made toys for children. Wooden carvings, mostly. Dolls and such. He was so kind, I just…” she paused for thought, taking a breath. “I just have to know what he did. If it was heresy, I just need to know why. He was such a kind pony, smart and clever and full of life. I need to understand what he did, and why.”

“Emberglow, you know I love you, right?” Lofty said warily. Emberglow nodded. “This line of questioning could get you in trouble. You know that, right? If you push hard on this, you’ll make enemies, and you’ll have the attention of ponies you don’t want that kind of attention from.”

“I don’t think there could be any harm in just asking questions. I just want to know what happened, is all. If he was a heretic, he earned what he deserved. I’m not arguing that. I just want to hear the full story.”

“Okay. I had to warn you so you know what you were getting into. I’d start with a simple request at the Star Shine building. If your friend was just arrested for heresy, and nothing stranger is going on, then I don’t see why they wouldn’t tell a fellow Knight. I’d even drop the name of your sponsor. If that doesn’t get you what you want…” Lofty sighed. “If that doesn’t work, it might not be worth pushing.”

“Lofty, you know me,” Emberglow smiled, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “I never give up.”

“Is it worth it?” Lofty asked.

“I won’t know until I ask the questions, will I?” Emberglow admitted. “Thank you, Lofty. Sorry to take up your time with heavy stuff.”

“You don’t have to leave just yet, do you?” Lofty asked. “Let’s get lunch. There’s a nice café a few blocks away, the chef is a genius with zucchini. I’ll pay. I heard about the bad part of your assignment, but I’d love to hear more about your pirate adventures. Did you learn any pirate talk?”

“Pirate talk?” Emberglow asked.

“Yeah. Stuff like ‘arg’ and ‘yarr’ and ‘ahoy’,” Lofty teased as he stood. “Hang on, let me leave a note for Gimlet Eye, another Knight Vigilant I’m working a case with.” He ruffled around for a spare piece of paper, writing a quick note for his partner. Emberglow laughed at the pirate question, standing with her friend as he opened the door for the two of them.

“No. The pirate I had the most conversations with did like to rhyme, however.”

“Rhyme?”

“Some of the Zebra only speak in rhyme. Zuberi wouldn’t explain it to me, but I got the impression it was some sort of taboo.” Emberglow said. The two of them trotted down the stairs, all five flights. The whole way, Emberglow told Lofty about her adventure on board Lady Elegant. Like with her parents, she tried to downplay her own role, but Lofty was not buying it.

“So you basically did nothing, while all the other ponies did all the fighting?” he raised a skeptical eyebrow. She waved a hoof at him.

“You know how I am in a fight, Lofty.”

“I also know when somepony is trying to be too modest.” He grinned at her. “You’re a much better Knight than you give yourself credit for, I’m sure.

“Well,” Emberglow admitted. “I did save my entire team when the pirate tried to light a stack of gunpowder barrels.”

“Told you so,” Lofty smirked..

“But I accidentally shielded the pirate at the same time, so…” she trailed off because Lofty was laughing so hard.

“What happened to the pirate, then?” he asked, after he’d caught his breath. Emberglow’s ears wilted as the joy drained out of her.

“He was… we had to…” She paused, inhaling deeply. “He and his surviving crew was hanged. I… I had to oversee the procedure.” She hated the way the euphemism felt leaving her mouth.

“It’s a terrible thing to hold a pony’s life in your hooves like that,” Lofty said, a haunted look passing his eyes.

“Lofty, what happened to you?” Emberglow asked, leaning forward in concern. He shook his head.

“Nothing important,” he said. “Let me tell you about the case I’m working on.” As a change of subject, it was clumsy and heavy-hooved, but Emberglow let it pass. Her friend would tell her if he wanted to. Besides, it wasn’t like there weren’t secrets she kept from him.

So she let him speak about the case he was working on, a decade-long fraud spree among three different banking institutions in New Canterlot City. It all seemed uninteresting on its face, but Lofty seemed to be enjoying the work, and his passion for the investigation made it worth hearing about.

They reached the café, a charming outdoor affair with wrought iron tables and chairs, a pleasant vase of fresh cut flowers on each table. There was a swinging door leading into indoor tables, but the large window Emberglow could see showed that most of the café’s patrons were choosing to eat outside and take advantage of the sunny day. There was only a single table open, and Lofty Tale motioned for them to sit.

“We don’t order inside?” Emberglow asked.

“Usually we would, but they like me here.” Lofty smirked. “I get special treatment.”

“You don’t think that’s inappropriate?” Emberglow said, making sure to keep a teasing note in her voice. “Taking advantage of your position?”

“Heavy responsibilities and obligations have to come with some perks, right? And here comes the first perk,” he said. A mare approached, an earth pony with pastel yellow fur and a bouncy white mane. She wore a perky blue sun dress, and her blue eyes sparkled with inner mischief. She practically bounced over to the table, and at first she didn’t even seem to notice Emberglow.

“Hey there, Sir Handsome… Um, I mean, hello, Sir Lofty,” the mare said, correcting herself with a start when she noticed Emberglow. Puzzlement and worry warred for a moment on her face as she looked at Emberglow; from her original greeting, Emberglow thought that perhaps the mare was sizing her up as a potential rival. It only took a moment to recognize the robes of the Radiant, which was apparently enough to dismiss Emberglow as a romantic threat. Her flirtatious smile came back instantly.

“Hello, Alamode. This is my best friend, Lady Emberglow.”

“My lady,” Alamode said graciously with a curtsey, before turning back to Lofty. “What can I get you today?” Her voice was laced with innuendo, and she gazed at him with a sultry, half-lidded look.

“Do you mind if I order for both of us?” Lofty asked Emberglow, who nodded. Her friend knew the café, so she trusted his choice. She wanted to see what he meant by ‘genius with zucchini’. “Two orders of zoodles with fried tofu and marinara sauce,” he ordered, and Alamode grinned and bounced away with a saucy sway of her hips. Emberglow watched her go, then turned back to Lofty, her eyebrows raised in an almost comically exaggerated look of judgement.

“What?” Lofty said innocently, and Emberglow snorted.

“Nothing, Sir Handsome.” Emberglow said. “But I have to ask about that pesky little Oath of Celibacy you Vigilants swear.”

“Oh, it’s the same as yours,” he said. “But there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting.” Emberglow thought about her time with her friend Gadget, and silently disagreed. His lighthearted tone faltered for a moment. “You may be surprised at how loosely some Knights in New Canterlot City interpret their Oath of Celibacy, or even the Oaths of Poverty and Sobriety.”

“I’d… rather not even think about it, actually,” Emberglow said. It reminded her of Bubblegum, if to a lesser degree. Why did ponies even become Knights, if they didn’t wish to live by the rules?

“Lofty! I found your note. Did you order for us already?” came the shout of a brown earth pony, wearing orange robes that matched Lofty’s. His darker brown mane was cut military style, a near match for Delver Deep’s mane style.

“Not for you, Gimlet,” Lofty said. “Gimlet, meet my best friend, Emberglow of the Radiant.” Emberglow rose from her seat to greet the newcomer, and they shook hooves before both sat down at the table with Lofty.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Emberglow,” Gimlet said. “Lofty says you’re a genius with the rune gauntlet, and you’re the only reason he graduated from Knight training.”

“He would have sorted things out eventually,” Emberglow said. “Three, maybe four years late.”

“No, you give me way too much credit,” Lofty said with a grin as he owned her teasing. “I’d never have passed. You worked a miracle with me.”

“Okay, enough of that,” Emberglow said with embarrassment.

“Emberglow just got back in the city after an assignment hunting pirates in the Eastern Sea. Pirates, Gimlet. Some ponies have all the luck,” Lofty said enviously.

“Hunting pirates? That’s like every colt’s dream. Meanwhile we get a fraud case,” Gimlet said with a sigh of exasperation. Emberglow’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two Vigilants. They both seemed legitimately disappointed that they didn’t get to hunt pirates. Stallions were so weird.

“Oh? From what Lofty was saying, you were both really enjoying your fraud case.”

“Yeah, it’s interesting,” Gimlet said. “Every mystery is like a puzzle to put together." Then he grinned. "And we may have found another piece.”

“Did you get it?” Lofty asked, his ears perking up as he leaned forward in his seat. Gimlet gave a pleased chuckle.

“Yup. It seems your guess was right. The employee records at both Morning Glory Credit Union and First Canterlot Financial have been tampered with. Somepony is hiding something from us, and it’s in those records.”

“Did your search find some non-redacted records?” Lofty asked. Gimlet shook his head, but kept grinning.

“Nope. But I did find something else. I know the name of the pony that did the redacting. And she lives here in the city.”

“Oh, very interesting,” Lofty said. “We’ll have to have a chat with the mare.”

“You still busy this afternoon?” Gimlet asked. Lofty nodded. “We’ll go track her down tomorrow.”

Alamode arrived just then, bearing with her two plates full of green-looking noodles covered with red sauce and crispy brown fried strips of tofu. When the waitress saw that Sir Gimlet Eye had arrived, she took his order as well. Emberglow dug into her meal, discovering to her pleasant surprise that ‘zoodle’ meant a noodle made out of tiny strips of zucchini. The squash added a delightful sweetness to the savory marinara sauce, and the tofu was deliciously seasoned. She could see why Lofty ate here frequently, at least besides a cute bouncing flank.

“So what’s this afternoon?” Emberglow asked, a bit confused when Gimlet smirked and Lofty looked away, blushing with slight embarrassment.

“Just a longstanding appointment our good noble pony has,” Gimlet said with a teasing grin. “I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, Lofty. It’s almost like you’re ashamed.”

“I just don’t like anypony to make a big fuss, is all,” Lofty mumbled.

“What are you talking about?” Emberglow asked, confused.

“It really is nothing,” Lofty said. “I’ve been living off my pay from Knighthood and have been spending my allowance from my family on charitable ventures. My family doesn’t know, but most of the other Knights I work with do. I tried to keep things quiet, but do you realize how difficult it is to keep a secret from an entire building full of investigators?” Gimlet laughed.

“He gets teased about it, but secretly we’re all impressed,” the other Vigilant said. “Sir Moneybags here has hired a contractor and work crew to build a brand new soup kitchen in Valley Ward, for some of the poor laborers there. He’s managed to snag a few other investors as well among the Knights working out of the justice building. Once a week he goes to check on the progress, meet with the contractors and the laborers working on the building.”

“Wow, Lofty,” Emberglow said. “You never said anything.”

“I don’t want attention for stuff like this,” Lofty complained. “I want to be known for stuff like what you did. Hunting pirates. Silly hero stuff. That’s the kind of thing that impresses the mares,” he said with a silly grin.

“Like you need help with that,” Gimlet said with a snort as Alamode came back with his lunch and bedroom eyes for Lofty. Emberglow giggled.

“What made you think of this?” Emberglow asked.

“One of my first cases was a serial burglar hitting wealthy manors in Garden Ward. She was a day laborer in Valley Ward. I ended up spending a lot of time there with the senior investigator I was working with, and it was… illuminating. So I decided to engage in some noblesse oblige.”

“You’re misusing that term,” Emberglow said. “But I get what you mean.”

“I needed to do something, even if it was just symbolic, to give back. My family has no idea I’m spending the stipends they send me on building a soup kitchen, but I’m sure they wouldn’t care. The building will probably end up with the ‘Tale’ name on it somewhere, which will only add to the family story.” Lofty shrugged. “Honestly I don’t care if they gain prestige or fame because of this, as long as ponies get helped. The side benefits don’t matter as long as they’re getting food, right?”

“Lofty, I’m proud of you, you know that, right?” Emberglow said, reaching out to rest a hoof on his shoulder.

“You should be, I’m amazing,” Lofty said with a grin, and Emberglow laughed. “Hey, about what we were talking about earlier. I’ll look into it for you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Lofty,” Emberglow said, as Gimlet looked between them, a puzzled curiosity on his face. “I know it’s a risk.”

“I know how to ask the right questions, Emberglow,” Lofty said. “And I know when it’s time to back off.” He finished the sentence with a meaningful glance at her, and it was her turn to look embarrassed. “Don’t worry, I’ll see what I can find out.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble for asking, Lofty.”

“Of course, Emberglow. I’ll let you know what I uncover.”

The three ponies finished their lunch, exchanging small talk and the casual, gentle teasing that happened so naturally between friends. Emberglow was a bit concerned about the flirting Lofty did with the waitress, Alamode, but she didn’t think about it too much. Afterwards Emberglow took her leave, saying goodbye to the two Knights Vigilant before making her way towards Diamond Home.

The headquarters of the Knights Radiant didn’t really feel like home to her, but it was still a pleasant sight. It was the smallest of the five Knight Order Headquarters, reaching only four stories into the skies. The walls were white, and sparkled in the sun from the bits of shell and mother-of-pearl that had been ground up in the masonry during its construction. It wasn’t just a home for the Knights, either; Diamond Home stood next door to a large hospital, where many of the Radiants who lived their spent their days.

Mercy Song had told her to check in, so she dropped by the reception desk and told the young squire working there the address of her parent’s house. Apparently, she had already been left a message for when she showed up; unless otherwise informed, she was to report to Lady Freckle of the Radiant in five days, unless they received a request for a second interview from the Mystics. This suited her just fine; she would be able to follow up on any information Lofty Tale brought her about Oak Chips while she was waiting. Happy that her duties had been seen to, she headed home to her parents' shop.

There was a new sign in the window when she got home; it read, ‘Needle Point Textiles: Favorite Shop of Lady Emberglow of the Radiant, MIGHTY HUNTER OF PIRATES!’

“Oh, Saints defend me,” Emberglow moaned before braving the front door. The entry bell rang and Emberglow stepped into the shop. Thankfully, there was nopony currently browsing the rows of dresses and suits, with only her mother seeing to the front-of-store.

“Take it down,” she said gruffly, with no preamble.

“Take what down, Lady Sweetie? And hello, by the way,” her mother said with a smile.

“You know what I mean,” Emberglow groused as her mother giggled.

“Nopony in the neighborhood will take it too seriously, sweetie. Your dad and I are just having a bit of fun. Besides, the sign’s the complete truth, isn’t it?” her mother said innocently.

“You’re ridiculous,” Emberglow said, conceding with a roll of her eyes. “I have no orders for five days, though that might change at no notice. Could I spend it in the shop with you guys?” Technically she could ask for quarters at Diamond Home, but she saw no point when her parents lived so near. Besides, she missed them.

“Of course, sweetie. You stay as long as you want,” her mother said. “How did your errands go?”

“I went to see my old friend Lofty. He’s doing well. I’ve also asked him to…” she trailed off, suddenly realizing what she’d been about to spout out to her mother. “Um, I had to ask him about a case he was working on. Something he was writing me about. Just a curiosity, really.”

“Uh huh,” her mother said, skeptically. Needle Point knew she was a terrible liar, but Emberglow sealed her lips and said nothing more. After a moment, her mother shrugged.

“Well, we’re not busy, so could you help your father with some repairs?” Needle Point asked, and Emberglow was more than happy to chip in.

The next three days saw Emberglow falling into a routine. In the morning, she’d help her parents in the shop. In the afternoons, she would check in at Diamond Home. While unassigned, there were still things Emberglow could do to help, so she did. There were always ponies supplicating the Knights Radiant for healing inside their headquarters, and she was a skilled healer both magically and non-magically. It was not as if there was much more for her to do while she waited.

On the evening of the third day, just after closing time, there was a knock on the family shop’s front door. Textile answered.

“Emberglow, it’s for you,” he called up the spiral staircase. “A Sir Lofty Tale at the door.”

“Invite him in, dad. He’s a friend.”

Textile and Lofty Tale trotted up the spiral staircase that led to the family’s living room. Lofty looked concerned as he waved off Textile and Needle Point’s respectful bows.

“I am sorry to intrude on your home so late,” he said. “I need to speak to your daughter alone for a few minutes.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Emberglow suggested, and Lofty nodded. “I’ll be back in a while, mom, dad. Don’t wait up if it gets late.”

The moon was full and the night was almost unpleasantly cool. Emberglow was wearing a civilian dress, and Lofty his robes. She wished she’d thought to snag a coat, but seeing the expression of urgency on Lofty’s face, she didn’t want to suggest they go back.

“You found out something,” Emberglow said as the two of them trotted down the street. It wasn’t a question.

“Nothing good. Nothing even substantial,” Lofty said with a sigh as he walked alongside his friend. “I have a few contacts with the Mystics. I asked about the name. The response was almost immediate. I was told that it was none of my business, the matter was sealed and classified, and that to ask further would result in an investigation into my own activities.”

“They threatened you?” Emberglow asked incredulously.

“Yes. All I could get is that Oak Chips was arrested for heresy. I got nothing more about the nature of the heresy, or which crimes he committed. I couldn’t even learn where he was being kept. I’m sorry, Emberglow. This is not something you want to push. Especially if you’re already being looked into for the incident with your teammate.”

“I know, Lofty,” she said softly. “It’s just hard, you know? He was my friend.”

“I get that,” he said. “It can be really frustrating dealing with the Mystics. They always have considered themselves the first among the Knights, and it shows in this case. I wish I could have done more for you.”

“You’ve done enough,” Emberglow said. “Thank you.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” he asked. She shook her head.

“I’ve got to at least ask Sir Steadfast. If he tells me the same thing, I’ll drop it. I promise, Lofty,” she added when he looked at her, worried. She knew she wouldn’t drop it, though.

“Promise me you’ll be careful, too,” Lofty said, the moonlight sparkling in his full, concerned eyes.

“I’ll do my best, Lofty,” Emberglow promised, though she couldn’t help but feel an ominous foreboding. After her interview with Hollybright, she was starting to wonder if just being careful would even be enough.

Chapter 16

Recording of a Radio Free Equestria broadcast. Listening to, recording, or possession of so-called ‘pirate radio’ broadcasts are to be considered acts of heresy and will be punished accordingly.

“Hello New Canterlot City! It’s me, Cutting Wave, and once again you’re listening to the best and onliest pirate radio station in Equestria! Yup, not ‘the Diarchy’, but Equestria, for you new listeners. That’s what our land used to be called, back when things made sense.

“Didjya know that? That things used to make sense here in Equestria? Ponies were kind to each other. Pegasi, earth ponies, and unicorns all lived together, married, had foals together, worked together, made friends together. Crazy, right? Nope, actually, what’s up now is crazy. We’ve marinated in this insanity for so long that we don’t even notice.

“Oh well. Sorry I sound a bit rambly tonight. I’m a bit excited and off my game because we've got a request from the Discordant to broadcast a message. Yup, this is a bit of a call-out to the Knights Mystic, the puffed up stallions and mares themselves that run the show. This message is a little unprecedented, we don’t usually get direct communications from the Big Guy.

“You heard me, Mystics. This message is for you, from Sir Heartwing of the Discordant. He asked me to pass it on special for those of you listening in tonight. Here it is: ‘Stay the buck out of Manehatten, you self-righteous pricks.’

“That’s it. That’s all he told me to say. Well, he might have been a bit more colorful than that, but there could be foals listening, and we at Radio Free Equestria are running a family show, damn it!

“In other news…

The remaining recording cuts off there.

1112 AF, New Canterlot City

“It has been quite some time since you’ve visited my office, Emberglow,” Steadfast Word said with surprised delight when Emberglow knocked on his door the next day. “Come in.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and he laughed.

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” Steadfast said. Emberglow blushed.

“Old habit, sir… er, Steadfast. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Steadfast said, laughing again. “What brings you to my office today?”

“Actually, Steadfast, I have a favor to ask,” Emberglow began nervously. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Emberglow, I’ve known you for years. Of course I trust you,” he said. He moved behind his desk, motioning for her to sit. His office was comforting, and she let the familiarity calm her nerves.

“I just want to ask a question, but I don’t know how to get the information I’m looking for. See, I have a pony I used to be close friends with. He lived next door to me and my family for years, and he was always kind and encouraging. When I got back from my last assignment, he was gone, and I was told he had been taken by the Knights Mystic. For heresy.” She paused, waiting for a response from Steadfast, but he merely looked thoughtful as he waited for Emberglow to continue. “It makes no sense to me, sir. Heresy seems so… out of character for him. He was kind and faithful, and I need to know what happened. What made him choose to fall from the grace of the Saints. It’s… really bothering me, sir, to not know all the information.”

“You always were driven and curious,” Steadfast said, slowly . “You’re sure he was taken by the Mystics?”

“I asked my friend, Lofty Tale of the Vigilant, to ask around. He was told that Oak Chips was taken for heresy, but the Mystics he spoke to wouldn’t say any more. They seemed quite upset that he’d even asked,” Emberglow said.

“Ah yes, the silly turf wars between us and the Vigilant. Hogwash, if you ask me. Utter silliness,” Steadfast scoffed. “Oak Chips was the fellow’s name? I can’t say I recognize it, so it wasn’t a case I was involved in.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said, her voice sinking as she slumped into her pillow. “I was hoping…”

“Oh don’t look so put out, Emberglow,” Steadfast said. “I can at least ask. If he was taken for questioning, it may be a classified matter, and I’ll be unable to share any information, but I can try. If you don’t mind, there’s a colleague of mine I can speak with right away. Do you mind waiting?”

“Not at all, sir… I mean, Steadfast,” Emberglow corrected, earning herself another laugh from the senior Knight.

“I shouldn’t be more than ten minutes. I might not have any information to give you, however, so don’t get your hopes up.” Steadfast stepped out of the office, closing it behind him. She sat back and waited for Steadfast to return.

Emberglow found her eyes idly drifting over the papers on his desk. She was surprised to see something familiar; a single sentence note that she’d last seen in Delver Deep’s office in Port Luminescence — Zuberi's note. It was an odd coincidence, had he been looking into her mission?

True to his word, it only took Steadfast about ten minutes before he re-entered the office. His expression was grim as he sat down across from her. She waited, expectantly, but also with growing dread.

“Emberglow, I…” he began, hesitating. Steadfast took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can tell you right now about your friend.”

“I see. Thank you for asking, sir,” Emberglow sighed, not even bothering to correct herself this time. He shook his head sadly

“In fact, the Mystic in charge of the investigation was quite upset that somepony has been asking into his business. You may have annoyed some ponies in my order, Emberglow.”

“I promise, I meant no harm,” Emberglow said. “I just want to understand, that’s all. I’m not trying to cause any problems for anypony.”

“What if…” Steadfast began thoughtfully. “What if there was something you could do to earn a little good will between yourself and our order? I might have an idea that could help you get what you need, and even smooth things out a bit with Hollybright.”

“You know about that?” Emberglow flinched. Steadfast nodded.

“Hollybright and I speak on occasion,” Steadfast said slowly.

There was the mildest hint of distaste in his voice, and Emberglow raised her eyebrows quizzically.

Steadfast gave a rueful chuckle. “She and I have never gotten along. Perhaps I owe you an apology, Emberglow. She knows I sponsored you, and perhaps that is why she was so harsh with you. But that doesn’t mean I am without influence. A few words in the right ears, and I can ensure that Hollybright has other things to occupy her time.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said, not knowing if that was good or bad. “So what can I do for you?”

“I know you’re currently off assignment. I need a team to go into an incredibly dangerous environment to investigate a disturbing motic surge. The team will be large, including regular soldiers and at least six Knights.” Steadfast seemed calm, but his eyes sparkled with unspoken excitement. In his hooves was a manilla folder that he was fiddling with idly.

“Why me, sir?” Emberglow asked, her eyes drawn naturally to the folder, though

“You may be Lady Rarity’s, but you have a mind like a Mystic. You’re inquisitive, you’re observant, and you’re driven. I need ponies like you.” His voice was fervent, and full of passion.

“And if I say yes?” Emberglow asked. She didn’t like the feel of this quid pro quo.

“I’ll somehow convince the inquisitor in charge of Oak Chip’s case to let me see the files,” he patted the stack of other papers already on his desk. “I’ll pass on whatever information I can. If you go, I don’t think you’ll need to speak with Hollybright any longer, either.”

“And if I don’t agree to go?” she asked softly.

“It’s not like that, Emberglow.,” he waved his hooves defensively. “ I’ll ask Hollybright to back off. She knows none of you had anything to do with your teammate’s sins, she’s just trying to be thorough with her duty. You understand that.”

“Yes, I understand,” Emberglow said, feeling a bit relieved. It felt less like she was being bribed with getting out of an inconvenient investigation, and more like she was going to do a favor for a friend.

“Besides, I actually think this mission will really pique your intellectual curiosity,” Steadfast said with a sly grin. “It’s in Manehatten.”

That got Emberglow’s attention. She immediately sat up, her ears perking towards Steadfast, and her eyes darted back and forth between the manilla folder in his hooves and the slightly smug smirk on his face. The island of Manehatten was a diseased, overgrown ruin, covered in hundreds of years of foliage growth and seeping with dangerous levels of motic radiation. It was obvious that Steadfast was manipulating her, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for her to be tantalized by.

Frustratingly, he clearly knew her well enough to know that she would be immediately hooked by those breadcrumbs.

“You said we were going to investigate a motic surge? How strong was the surge to be detected over the ambient motic radiation of the island itself?”

“’We’?” Steadfast said with a pleased smile. Emberglow sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Yes, you caught my interest. Tell me more.”

“The surge is unusually strong, and contains a strange character.”

“Character? What do you mean?” Emberglow asked.

“The Mystics have an outpost just outside Manehatten, about thirty miles away from the island. We’ve got outposts throughout the Diarchy, set up with motic seismographs. Sometimes, if a unicorn is employing powerful magics, we can sense the motic surge. The machines also record surges from things like magical explosions, dragon incursions, or other odd anomalies. There are patterns to these readings, and the patterns coming from Manehatten are far different from anything we’ve recorded there before. Stronger, as well.”

“What is it?” Emberglow asked impatiently, her curiosity piqued. If she had suspected Steadfast of leading her on with hints and implications before, now she was sure. Of course she knew about the Mystic listening stations; every Knight did.

“We have no idea. It’s not unicorn magic, either. Or I should say, not only unicorn magic. It’s hard to say without getting closer with our investigators and our instruments.”

“So you’re going to be going?” Emberglow asked. Steadfast laughed.

“No, camping in irradiated ruins is a young pony’s game. I’m sending a student of mine, a Mystic named Brightblade. He’s going to be the commander of this mission, at my request.”

“Do you know the other ponies who will be going?” Emberglow asked.

“I’ve spoken with a few others, including another Mystic besides Brightblade. You won’t be the only Radiant this time either, you’ll be serving underneath Lady Bitterroot. I’ve also made a request with the Knights Adamant for at least four of their number, and a Jubilant as well. Manehatten is dangerous, and you’ll need plenty of martial power. I’ve also been allowed three full squads of marines.” He paused a moment, allowing Emberglow a second to be suitably awed at the number of ponies and Knights that would be going on this mission. “Lady Bitterroot will be in charge of medical care for the Knights, while you will be commanding the three medics in charge of each of the marine squads, supervising and supplementing their care as needed. Have you met the mare?”

“Lady Bitterroot? No, I haven’t,” Emberglow said.

“You’ll like her. Everypony does. She’s the perfect stereotype of the grizzled, scarred combat veteran. No fear, and fiercely protective of the Knights she’s serving with. A bit of a cranky mother hen at times, but those of us who know her love her for it,” he said. “I know her myself from my days on the griffon front.”

“I look forward to meeting her, then,” Emberglow said. “Forgive me, sir, but it sounds like you were already planning on including me before we even had this conversation.”

“I was going to ask for you specifically, yes,” Steadfast said. “Your Order head, First Lady Fairy Light said she’d be more than happy to assign you to me, except you hadn’t yet been cleared for duty by Hollybright’s investigation yet.”

“You’re terribly manipulative sometimes, sir,” Emberglow said, trying not to smirk at him. Steadfast winked.

“It doesn’t hurt that I can do you a favor in exchange for the one you’re doing me, does it?” he mused, and she nodded. An exchange of favors felt much better than the hint of bribery had. It felt more honest, somehow, even though it had essentially the same result in the end. “The truth is, I think I’ll need you there, Emberglow. My old squire Brightblade is a fine Knight, intelligent and observant. But you’re different. You think more deeply than he does. You’re a little more unconventional, willing to think around corners. Few other Knights would have bothered to ask about their friend the way you did, when threatened with the ire of the Mystics. I have a hunch that we’ll need that sort of determination and resolve, if it can be kept under control.”

“Um, thank you, sir?” Emberglow said, noting the warning inside the compliment. Unconventional thinking was not usually rewarded, even among the Knights, and the cautious note in Steadfast’s voice was a clear message to her. “I’ll do my best.” It seemed like the appropriate response, though it felt limp. An errant thought struck her mind. “Um, one more thing, si… um, Steadfast. Can you intercede with Hollybright on behalf of the marines we were with, as well? They also had nothing to do with Bubblegum’s betrayal.”

Steadfast pursed his lips with thought, glancing critically at Emberglow. The silence was long enough that Emberglow began to grow nervous.

“You know I can’t promise anything,” he said finally. “Heresy hides in even the most innocuous places. We have to be thorough.”

“I understand that, Steadfast. I only ask that you try.”

“Very well, young lady,” he replied. Emberglow noted a bit of annoyance in his voice. “Be careful you don’t ask for too much, Knight.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, shifting in her seat nervously. She needed to change the subject. “What is the timetable for this mission?”

“Here,” he said by way of an answer, passing the folder across the desk. Emberglow flipped it open eagerly; it was a dossier full of information, files on ponies, aerial photographs of the region, and more. “I believe Brightblade wishes to depart for Outpost 192 by the end of the week. He’s finishing up the last logistic details and negotiating with the Vigilant for their participation. You’ll have all the details and departure dates in your dossier.” Steadfast smiled, reaching out and patting Emberglow’s hoof. “This mission will be just what you need, Emberglow. Take some time to relax, and don’t worry about these things that have been troubling you. You’ll have enough on your mind soon enough.”

It was a clear dismissal, and Emberglow took it as such. Even though he technically had no authority over her at the moment, Steadfast was a senior Knight, and years of interactions between them had ingrained a habit of deference into Emberglow’s reflexive behavior.

“Yes, thank you Steadfast. You have been helpful,” Emberglow said, sincerely. The conversation had been disturbing, but at least she would eventually be getting the information she wanted. Oak Chip’s fate still burned at her, but she could hold her apprehension about his story at bay for now. She stood up and left the older stallion’s office.

The next morning saw her sitting in the living room at her parent’s home, browsing through the dossier. Her parents didn’t mind Emberglow looking over paperwork in their living room while they ran the shop downstairs, so she sat at the family couch and read.

In reality, information about what their objective in Manehatten would be was nearly nonexistent. Nopony knew much at all about what had caused the motic surge, or even precisely where it had occurred. The information in the dossier was mostly photographs and maps of the Mystic outpost they would be assembling at, as well as some bios for the ponies who had already been confirmed to be going on the mission. She read about Sir Brightblade (who, to Emberglow’s surprise and slight trepidation, was actually Hollybright’s twin brother) and Lady Bitterroot, and was even pleasantly surprised to see that Knight Sergeant Delver Deep would be leading the three other Knights Adamant who would be accompanying them.

She didn’t recognize any of the other Adamant, but the second Mystic, Lady Joyful Sound, was a name she recognized from the Ivy Seminary. Joy wasn’t an unpleasant memory, and as far as Emberglow remembered she had never joined with her bullies, but she had never really stood out, either. The last member of the team, according to a note in the dossier, was a yet-to-be-determined Knight Jubilant.

So, two Mystics, four Adamants, two Radiants, and one Jubilant. Nine Knights, as well as thirty or more marines. Whatever was going on in ruined Manehatten had the Mystics taking things very seriously.

The dossier did outline a rough itinerary, including an airship departure time for the outpost on Friday afternoon. The ponies who would be going would be assembling at the outpost before boarding another airship, a smaller, faster, higher altitude military vehicle that would take them above the city itself, where the earth ponies would be parachuting into the ruins below, while the pegasi got down on their own wingpower. The high altitude approach was necessary because of the dangers of the destroyed city, as well as the difficulty and time it would take to approach by land. Emberglow wondered what it would be like to be up so high and to trust one’s life to a few ropes and a piece of cloth; it made her mutter a quick prayer of gratitude to the three pegasus Saints for her own wings.

Also in the dossier was a pamphlet of information on some of the creatures that the Knights might encounter in Manehatten. Emberglow flipped through the pamphlet, looking at the various diagrams and autopsy reports of some of the mutants that had been encountered there before. Even when delivered in a clinical, scientific way, the visuals were nightmarish.

There were flightless blind birds the size of ponies, some with mismatched limbs, some with multiple heads, which consumed flesh. There were mosquitoes the size of a pony’s head that could spit acid as a defense mechanism. There were wormlike creatures, large enough to swallow a cart, which skittered up and down destroyed buildings as if they were horizontal surfaces with their hundreds of centipede-like legs. Everything that lived in Manehatten seemed specifically designed to prey on ponies. And that didn’t even count the heretic Knights.

Nopony knew where the Knights Discordant lurked, but they were a constant threat to the Diarchy. One thing that most intelligence agreed on, however, was the fact that the Discordant were frequently seen around Manehatten. Nopony knew what interest the heretics had in the ruined city, but it made sense that a corrupt, rotten city would call to those corrupt, rotten ponies.

A shiver ran down Emberglow’s fur. Besides Bubblegum, she’d never fought against a Knight before. She hoped it was an experience she would continue to avoid. She was afraid, however, that it was all too possible.

Emberglow had two days to pack and spend time with her family before her scheduled departure time. The dossier suggested that she would only be able to carry enough personal items to fit in a single small saddlebags, so packing would take only a few minutes. She settled on her personal Book of the Saints, her journal, and a few pens. After a moment’s thought, she also included her own personal first aid kit. It wasn’t much, just some bandages and gauze, disinfectant, some emergency anti-venom, and painkillers.

And a small package of hard candies, of course, because cupcakes and muffins didn’t fit in a personal first aid kit.

Finally Friday arrived, and Emberglow was a bit relieved that her departure was much quieter than her first mission. Her parents still saw her off at the port, but there was a subdued nature to their farewell. Emberglow could tell both her parents were nervous, but they shook off her concerns and sent her away with a final hug and kiss each.

“Emberglow! Over here!” Delver Deep was standing on board the airship, waving a hoof in her direction. He was chatting with three unfamiliar ponies wearing blue robes. She bypassed the gangplank and flew over to the four Adamants.

“Emberglow, meet Tad and Gem Redmane,” he pointed at two earth ponies, a mare and a stallion. They were nearly identical in appearance, with grey coats and eponymous red manes. Gem, the mare, smiled brightly as she shook Emberglow’s hoof. Her brother was less exuberant, but his more subdued greeting was no less warm.

“And this is Silverfeather,” Delver introduced the third stranger, a diminutive pegasus with a long, silvery blue mane tied back behind her in a ponytail. Silverfeather said nothing, but nodded politely. “Knights, Emberglow here’s a credit to her Order. She was invaluable back on my last assignment. She’s fresh, but very skilled and good in a fight.”

“I…” Emberglow stammered, not knowing what to say. She didn’t think she was, really, but Delver was a bit taciturn and usually sparing in his praise. “Um, really?”

Gem laughed. “I think you’ve confused the poor girl. Not used to hearing compliments from Delver?”

“No,” Emberglow admitted.

“I’m not that stingy in my praise,” Delver muttered. Gem rolled her eyes, and her brother joined her in a chuckle. Silverfeather just silently shook her head with amusement.

“You are exactly that stingy with praise. Remember that time when I sparred with you at Old Canterlot, while I was a squire?” Gem asked. “Or maybe there was the time when me and Tad chased off the dragon? Or how about when Silverfeather flew all the way from Camp Pinewood to Forward Base Legrand in two hours? You were super generous with compliments then.” The sarcasm was obvious.

“Every time I wrote glowing letters of praise to your commanders!” Delver protested.

“That’s how he gives praise. In letters to other ponies,” Gem teased. Emberglow laughed, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit out of place. The whole conversation hinted at relationships, friendships she was not a part of. It was one of the only times Emberglow had ever regretted the rarity of the Knights Radiant; she supposed she would always be the exception, the outlier, and would always be a bit of a mare apart.

“Looks like our other Mystic is boarding,” Silverfeather spoke, her voice as light and silvery as her name. She pointed with a hoof at a familiar looking earth pony mare, with a short, dark blue mane with light blue streaks over pale grey fur, that was struggling onboard the ship under the weight of several large trunks. Emberglow flew over to help.

“Please don’t touch!” the mare in purple robes insisted as soon as Emberglow got closer. “I… can manage on my own.” She was grunting with effort.

“Are you sure?” Emberglow wasn’t convinced. “It looks heavy.”

“I’ll be fine, Emberglow, thank you.” She didn’t even glance up at Emberglow as she reached the deck of the ship. Emberglow was a bit surprised she knew her name; Joyful Sound had never interacted much with many other students. “Now you’ll excuse me, I’ve got delicate instruments here and I’d rather not chance some clumsy sailor knocking them over and…”

“Sorry! Go ahead,” Emberglow was mildly surprised at Joyful Sound’s standoffishness, though it was consistent with how she remembered her. “Are you sure I can’t…”

“No thank you, but thanks for offering.” At least she was polite. Emberglow felt a bit confused as she flapped back over to the Adamants, who were chatting and laughing again at some story she hadn’t been a part of.

“That was odd,” she commented, and the others nodded. A shadow seemed to pass over Delver’s face.

“Just wait until you meet the other Mystic, our commander, Sir Brightblade,” Delver said softly.

“What do you mean?” Emberglow asked, but Delver shook his head, unwilling to say more.

“At least we can hope that our Jubilant will be fun,” Gem chimed in. “Does anypony know anything about this Barium Ion?”

“Only what was in the dossier,” Emberglow admitted. “He’ll be coming in after us on a different airship.”

“And your sister Radiant, this Bitterroot?” Gem continued.

“I’ve heard from Steadfast that we’re all going to love her.” Emberglow smiled. “He described her as a crusty old veteran with a motherly streak.” Delver laughed, and the others grinned. “She sounds fun. The dossier said she’d be there before us, from the griffon front.”

“That’s good,” Gem nodded. “One Radiant is a blessing, two will probably mean the difference between success and failure. And it’ll be all the better if she’s fun, too.” She grinned, and patted Emberglow on the back companionably. “We were going to check out the airship before takeoff, maybe see if there’s a mess hall and snacks. Want to join us?”

The offer was kind, but there was a casual, easy sort of togetherness between the Knights Adamant that Emberglow just didn’t feel a part of. Even the way Gem said ‘us’ and ‘we’ made Emberglow realize she wasn’t really a piece of their whole.

She shook her head politely. “No thank you. But I appreciate the invitation.” Gem shrugged, and the four Adamants went their own way while Emberglow wandered over to the railing to watch as the ship lifted off.

All around her, the sailors scurried about the deck, finishing their final preparations. Despite the crowd, Emberglow found herself walking across the deck with relative ease — the sailors respectfully gave her a wide berth as she drifted around.

Just like on her last departure from New Canterlot City, Emberglow found herself watching the city dwindle and shrink as the vessel ascended, and then slipped away from the city. Emberglow kept her eyes on Emerald Street as long as she could, even though she couldn’t identify individual buildings. Her mind wandered as she watched the neighborhood fade in the distance, and she thought about Oak Chips. The last time she’d left, he’d disappeared. She wondered, for an instant, who might disappear when she came back this time. The thought was chilling enough that she froze up, gripping the railing tighter momentarily. She tried to dismiss the thought with a somewhat forced snort and a shake of her head. It was probably just pre-mission jitters rather than some sort of absurd premonition.

Thinking of home, though, made her think of her parents, and fearful reactions she’d seen when they’d been speaking about Oak Chips. Were other ponies always as afraid of Knights as her parents had been? They’d been visibly fearful, even when speaking to their own daughter. She didn’t want to remember the nervousness she’d seen in their faces, or in their voices. She never wanted to see that again, but maybe it wasn’t avoidable.

“Excuse me?” she asked, flagging down one of the sailors. She was curious about something, and wanted to test a grim hypothesis. She watched carefully as he turned, his eyes narrowed, eyebrows raised in annoyance, until they fell upon her robes. Suddenly the spark of frustration slid from his eyes, replaced by a sickening, obsequious smile.

“How can I serve, my lady?” the sailor twitched nervously.

“I was just wondering if you knew how long this trip would take,” Emberglow said. She knew the question was completely banal, but she wasn’t after the information. She was gauging his reactions.

“Um, just over two days, my lady.” His eyes shifted to the deck of the ship, then back to her.

“I see. Sorry to interrupt.” She waved him back to his task, and he departed with relieved haste.

Of course, there were a million reasons he could have been nervous. It was also entirely possible she was simply seeing things she expected to see. Always before she’d noticed the respect and admiration the common ponies had shown to her as a Knight. But now she saw the fear as well. The righteous should have nothing to fear from the Saint’s Knights, but for the first time she understood why ponies might feel that way. After all, she’d done nothing wrong, and she had still been accused of failure. What must it be like for the common pony, who didn’t have the protection offered by the title of Knighthood?

It seemed like the railing of an airship was a good place for deep thoughts. She let herself get lost in her own introspection as the airship sped away from her city, and she idly wondered if some other pony, somepony more poetic than she, could find some sort of metaphor or symbolism in the city slowly receding in the distance, sliding away from her.

For a moment, she thought about her younger self. As a squire, and even before, there had been such a sense of clarity. Oh, things like evil, heresy, ignorance and treachery certainly existed back then, sure. But now she had faced those things in the real world, and it was… messy. Friends could be traitors. Kind ponies could be heretics. Sometimes things just didn’t make sense. Sometimes there wasn’t a clear answer to her questions. It was like there was a gulf between the clarity offered by the teachings of the Saints, and the way things worked in the real world, and she was suddenly sharply nostalgic for a time when that gulf hadn’t existed.

Everywhere around her, in fact, there were gulfs, growing valleys between Emberglow and her parents, between Emberglow and her friends, even between Emberglow and her foalhood beliefs. That was not to say that her faith was wavering, but it was clear that she could no longer just believe the way she had as a foal.

There it was. There was the metaphor somepony more poetic than she might have come up with a lot quicker. She was leaving behind her foalhood sense of innocent pure faith as she left behind New Canterlot City.

Emberglow thought about that for a moment, and then groaned as she smacked her forehead with her hoof. It was probably best if she left the poetry to the poets.

It took over two days to reach Outpost 192. The old, unused roads in and around Manehatten scattered across the countryside like the dry, cracked bones of the dead city. Soon enough it wasn’t just the dry bones of old roads that Emberglow could see among the trees, but buildings as well, husks of walls and stones long overgrown by the foliage around them. At first they were rare, one or two every mile, but they slowly grew closer and densely packed. There was a haze of something in the air the closer they grew to the city, and it became difficult to see more than a half mile or so away from their airship, but Emberglow could tell the ruins were growing closer.

Finally the airship’s crew began to steer it into a tight spiraling descent, circling around a small collection of intact, semi-permanent wooden buildings with metal roofs. There were also a few tents set up as well. Emberglow could see the symbol of the Mystics, the six-pointed star of Saint Twilight Sparkle, painted on the roof of the largest of the more permanent structures.

There were several soldiers there waiting for the Knights to disembark. With a start, Emberglow recognized Sergeant Arrow from Strike Squad Epsilon, speaking with Gearsmith. The last time she’d seen them had been nearly two weeks ago, on the airship back from their disastrous recall from Port Luminescence. It was quite the pleasant surprise; if Squad Epsilon was here, that meant Steadfast Word had been able to intercede on the marines’ behalf in order to clear them in Hollybright’s investigation. And if Gearsmith and Arrow were here, then Gadget was probably here as well.

Emberglow tried not to think about how happy that thought made her.

Emberglow waved to the two marines, who waved back. She had been about to trot over to speak with them when she saw the glow of spellcasting from near the bottom of the docking platform stairs. It was Brightblade, the last of the Knights to disembark, painting a voice amplification spell in midair.

“Knights, we will be meeting in the command building in twenty minutes. It’s the largest building in the center there,” the Knight Mystic said, his amplified voice blasting over the ambient noise and bustle of a small military camp. He pointed at the building in question with one hoof. “We’ll be meeting in the mess hall. Before then, take a moment to make sure your armor and weapons have arrived and been unloaded. Any questions?” Nopony said anything, and Brightblade nodded and marched off towards the building he had indicated. Emberglow was still watching him depart when a hoof tapped her on the shoulder.

“Lady Emberglow?” came a familiar voice, and she turned to see Gadget with a little lurch of her stomach. There was both joy and apprehension in the young marine’s expression, and her eyes gazed searchingly at Emberglow’s. Emberglow smiled, unable to hide her own relief that Gadget had survived unscathed from her interrogation by the Mystics. And the other marines in Squad Epsilon as well, of course. “It’s good to see you,” Gadget said.

` “You too,” Emberglow said, giving the other mare a quick, one hoofed hug, which Gadget returned. A quick hug was safe, right? “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be here. Steadfast didn’t say anything about it.”

“Steadfast?” Gadget asked.

“A Knight Mystic. Friend of mine. I, uh, kinda asked him to intervene to make sure Hollybright wasn’t giving you guys too much of a hard time.”

“That was you?” Gadget asked. “Thanks. You don’t know—“ she suddenly sucked in a deep breath, her ears twitching. “Um, it was stressful. It’s kinda why we got assigned here, too. Don’t you have—“

“Oh, right. Somewhere to be,” Emberglow said. “We’ll catch up later.”

It only took a few minutes to verify that her armor and spear, safely packed in a crate, were unloaded from the airship, before she followed the rest of the Knights into the mess hall. The room was empty of all but Knights, each one dressed in their robes. There were two rows of long tables lined with benches for the ponies that lived full time at the outpost.

Brightblade stood at the head of one of the tables, with a number of maps and diagrams before him . Sitting in various spots around the table were the Knights, most of whom she’d met on the airship down to the outpost. There was one unfamiliar mare, though, dressed in the same white robes as her, who drew her eye.

Lady Bitterroot was an earth pony mare with nearly as many scars as she had wrinkles. Her light brown coat reminded Emberglow of the crinkled brown paper bags that foals sometimes packed their school lunches in, and her mane was silver with age. Her most prominent scar was a matched trio of claw marks that just barely tugged at the left corner of her lips, sliding down to her chin in three even lines. She gave Emberglow a smile and a silent nod as Emberglow approached the table.

“Everypony here? Good. Anypony have problems with their gear arriving?” Brightblade began. Nopony spoke up, and most of the Knights shook their heads. “Also good. I’m sure all of you have read the dossier that my Order provided. I also know that some of you spoke with Sir Steadfast, my superior, about the mission details. I’ll not waste time going over what you should all already know.

“Our motic sensors at this outpost are not precise enough to pinpoint an exact location for our target, but we have it narrowed down to a general area.” The Knight Mystic pointed at a photograph, where a ten block square area had been photographed from high altitude. “This area is called the Central Hill by those ponies who have scouted Manehatten. It apparently used to be a gigantic outdoor park in the city. The hill is not truly natural; most of it sits atop chunks of destroyed buildings. In addition, Central Hill contains several entrances to the Manehatten Caves, a labyrinth of natural and pony-built caves that make no sense and are stuffed full of mutated horrors. Those horrors are known to come out and stalk the city, mostly at night.

“We also know the heretics of the Discordant often haunt Manehatten. They are no friends of the mutant creatures, which hold just as much danger for them as they do for us. However, there is something that keeps bringing them back to these ruins. It is to watch for heretic activity that the Mystics set up this outpost, after all. We should be prepared to fight not only the Diarchs-forsaken creatures lurking in the ruins, but our own fallen brothers and sisters, as well.

“Because the ruins are so densely overgrown and crawling with dangers, I have decided it would be most efficient for us to enter the area around the Hill by air. We will be boarding a Hummingbird Class airship, much smaller and faster than the Albatross Class vessels you usually see for transport and shipping, such as the one you all flew in on.

“The airship will approach our landing zone at as high an altitude as possible, and we will drop in from above with parachutes, for most of us.” He glanced at the two pegasus Knights in attendance. “Once on the ground, we will establish and fortify a base camp, and Lady Joyful Sound here will begin scanning for our motic anomaly. Once closer to the source, more delicate and precise instrumentation should be able to give us a better idea of what we’re looking for, and where it is. Any questions so far?”

Once again, nopony spoke up. “Great. Our itinerary goes like this. Tomorrow we will be training everypony in the use of parachutes. Even you pegasi; if something goes wrong in the air, I want you two to know how to operate one for an injured or unconscious teammate. The afternoon we will do combat drills, see if we can figure out how to work together as a unit. Our last member, Barium Ion of the Jubilant, has been delayed and will arrive in two days. He’ll be arriving onboard our Hummingbird, and we’ll depart as soon as possible. For this afternoon, I’m going to be taking the time to meet with a few of you to go over your specific roles for this mission. If there is nothing else, you are dismissed until tomorrow morning. Dinner will be here in the mess hall at five p.m.”

The ponies began to depart, and the Knight Radiant, Bitterroot, moved over as if to speak with Emberglow when Brightblade spoke again.

“Knight Private Emberglow, I’d like to speak with you first, please,” the Knight Mystic said, his voice commanding. Bitterroot glanced at their commanding officer, looking a bit annoyed, then shrugged. Emberglow felt the disappointment as well; with how Steadfast had spoken of the old veteran, she was quite eager to meet the mare herself. Sighing, she walked over to Brightblade, who motioned to a door off of the mess hall that led to a hallway.

Brightblade led her to a room empty of everything but a single folding table, piled with files Emberglow recognized as personnel reports on each of the Knights in the team. There were two seating cushions on either side of the table. Brightblade sat down on one side, Emberglow on the other.

“Emberglow, as you know, you’re going to be working under Bitterroot to oversee the medical needs of the marines.” The stallion’s voice was cold and professional, and his face pulled into a sneering frown. “We have two ground based teams, and one elite pegasus scout team. Each team has its own medic, and you are their commanding officer. You report to Bitterroot and myself. In any conflict of orders you follow mine over hers. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said automatically.

“Good. You should also know that I will be watching you closely this entire mission,” Brightblade said. Emberglow couldn’t help but stare at him. It wasn’t her imagination; there was something antagonistic about his behavior. She wasn’t about to let it pass without asking, at least.

“Sir, is there something wrong?” Emberglow asked cautiously. Brightblade snorted.

“You tell me, Knight Private,” Brightblade said, his tail flicking absently with frustration. “I’ve been assigned possibly one of the most important missions of my career, and I’ve been saddled with a potential liability in my team just because somepony happens to be friends with my boss.”

“Liability?” Emberglow asked, ears pinning back as she leaned away from the stallion. “What do you—“

“You heard what I said, Knight Private,” Brightblade narrowed his eyebrows at her.

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I promise I’m not!” Emberglow cried.

“Really?” Brightblade said, the sarcasm clear in his tone. “Let’s look at the facts, Knight Private,” he held up a hoof as if ready to count off his points. “One. You are a known associate of a convicted heretic. Two. You were closely involved in an incident involving a Knight going rogue. Three. While still under investigation for number two, you decided, for whatever reason, to question a legitimate Mystic investigation, sticking your muzzle into something that was none of your concern. You even had the temerity to involve your friend, the Vigilant.”

“I—“ Emberglow stuttered. “But… none of that was…” Her eyes were wide with shock as she stared at the stallion. He ignored her discomfiture.

“Despite all of that, you somehow amazingly have Steadfast Word’s trust. But I’m not so easily fooled, Knight Private. Maybe you’re not lying, maybe Steadfast’s instincts are correct, and you’re exactly what you appear to be. But I’m not so optimistic. I don’t believe in coincidence, and you’ve been involved in a few too many incidents for me to trust you.”

“Sir, I promise you. That business with my—“ she was about to say friend, but changed with only a brief hesitation. “—acquaintance Oak Chips. I simply wanted to know—“

“You don’t need to know anything,” Brightblade said, slashing the air with his hoof. “You’re nobody to this investigation, or you were until you butted in. But you don’t even seem to get the worst part.”

“Sir, please. Whatever Oak Chips did, I don’t support or condone. I just wanted to know—“

“And that’s it, Knight!” Brightblade yelled. “Your need to know is a need to question the wisdom of the Knights Mystic. When you question us, you question the Saints themselves! You’re so busy thinking about what you want that you don’t even realize how deep into heresy you are!”

“Sir, what are you talking about?” Emberglow asked, becoming frantic. She could tell how angry the other Knight was, and she could feel herself rising to meet his anger with her own. “If you’re so convinced I’m a liability, why am I still galloping about free, and not still being questioned?” Brightblade glared at her, teeth clenched and ears pinned back. “Why was I cleared in Hollybright’s investigation?”

“Ponies can make mistakes,” Brightblade said defensively.

“Like you, judging me right now?” Emberglow snapped back. Brightblade flinched. “I assume Steadfast ordered you to take me, right? And you followed that order despite your misgivings?” The stallion said nothing, and Emberglow inhaled, trying to calm down. “Then we have no choice. Watch me, sir. Keep your eye out for any hint of treachery. I have nothing to hide, and I have no problems letting my actions speak for me.”

Brightblade’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward intently. Emberglow stood her ground, meeting the other Knight’s eyes with what she desperately hoped was a determined, fearless look, even though she was sure her hooves were shaking. Finally Brightblade backed off with a snort.

“Fine. I’ll give you that chance. I’ll watch you for any sign of heresy. Saints protect us all if you’re lying to me.”

“My only wish is to do my duty, sir,” Emberglow said, trying to keep her voice even and soft. “To honor Lady Rarity and all the Saints, to keep my team alive, and to follow your orders.”

“Very well, Knight Emberglow. Dismissed.” The Knight looked down at his personnel files, opening one up to read the papers inside. It was a blunt and obvious signal as he rudely ignored Emberglow, who stood up and left the room. She’d been right earlier; her hooves were shaking. She closed the door behind her as she left; she didn’t want to see Brightblade any more. Suddenly Lofty Tale’s reluctance, her parents’ nervousness and fear, and even Steadfast Word’s warnings made so much more sense. Emberglow had no idea that Brightblade had been involved in the investigation of her friend, or that any of the inquisitors involved would be so angered by her simple query. It had seemed like such a harmless thing to wish to know her friend’s fate. Clearly it was much more complicated than that.

Emberglow left the command building, suddenly realizing that she had no idea where her quarters were. She looked around for somepony familiar, somepony who would know. Really she was hoping to see Gadget; a few minutes speaking with her friend would go a long way to clear her head of stress after that bizarre interview with Sir Brightblade. A bit aimless, she left the building to find Bitterroot waiting for her.

“Heya, sister,” the older scarred mare said, holding out a hoof for Emberglow to shake. After her hostile meeting with Brightblade, the open friendliness on Bitterroot’s face was a welcome relief. “Nice to meetchya. I’m Bitterroot, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

“Yes,” Emberglow said, a bit stunned at the older mare’s energy. “I, uh, I’m Emberglow. Nice to meet you, too.” She shook the light brown Knight’s hoof.

“So. Lemme show you where we’ll be sleeping, and we can chat. There’s only enough cabins to house the ponies that are staged here a bit more permanently, so we’re in tents. You mind sharing?”

“Not at all,” Emberglow said.

“Good,” Bitterroot nodded. She trotted off to the south, and Emberglow followed. There was a collection of tents set up at perfectly spaced intervals. “One of the benefits of being a Knight instead of a marine. We don’t have to set up our own tent.” The mare cackled. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“Um, there’s not much to tell,” Emberglow began, but Bitterroot was not about to let her hide behind modesty. She asked her all about her life, from her foalhood, her parents, and her experiences so far as a Knight. Emberglow didn’t go into too much detail especially about things like Bubblegum, but she found she quite enjoyed speaking with the old veteran. For her part, Bitterroot was a fantastic listener, full of humor and charm. While they spoke, Bitterroot showed her where they would be sleeping, a simple canvas tent with wooden poles. There were two bedrolls already set up inside. Emberglow unloaded her saddlebags by one of the two bedrolls; the other already had Bitterroot’s personal effects on top.

“What about you?” Emberglow finally asked when Bitterroot ran out of questions about her. “I only know that my friend Steadfast speaks highly of you.”

“Steadfast? That old nag?” Bitterroot laughed. “Have you ever seen the scar he’s got on his right front leg?”

“Um, no?” Emberglow said, confused.

“Exactly,” the veteran giggled. “What about his missing eye? Or his tragically shortened tail? Or even all those innards he’s missing?”

“I guess you’ve healed him a bit, then?” Emberglow asked.

“When we were both younger, he was assigned to a team hunting down deserters fleeing to the Griffon kingdoms. I was his medic. He’s a good pony, for a Mystic.” Bitterroot said. Emberglow tried not to cringe, suddenly reminded of her circumstances here at the Outpost. She thought she’d hidden her reaction well, but Bitterroot glanced at her sharply. “Everything okay?”

“I uh, don’t think Brightblade likes me very much,” Emberglow said. When Bitterroot pushed, she spilled the entire story to the older mare, this time even filling in the story of her last mission’s ending, and Bubblegum’s criminal indiscretion. Bitterroot nodded sympathetically the whole time.

“You’re new at being a Knight, and you grew up in the capital, right?” Bitterroot asked. Emberglow nodded. “Look, I don’t wanna say you’re a bit, erm, under-experienced, but this is kinda par for the course for dealing with some of the Mystics. They see heresy in every question, sometimes. Even decent sorts like Steadfast get a little weird about stuff, so you just hafta be careful.”

“I know that now,” Emberglow said. “You sound like you have experience.”

“Only forty years as a Knight, young lady!” Bitterroot said. The two of them spoke more, with the older veteran sharing stories of her time in battle, griffons and ponies she’d fought, even where she got her claw scar on her muzzle. Oddly enough, not from a griffon as Emberglow had assumed, but from a pony wearing a wicked set of metal claws. Emberglow used the conversation to feel out her new superior officer; it seemed like Bitterroot wanted more of a partner than a subordinate. This worked just fine for Emberglow. If Brightblade was going to be antagonistic, at least she would have a safe haven in Bitterroot.

Later that night, the Knights and marines in the outpost shared dinner together, and Emberglow got to hear the whole story of what had happened back in New Canterlot City from Gadget and Gearsmith. The marines of Squad Epsilon had been spared the rigors of an intense Mystic investigation due to the intervention of both Sir Steadfast and Sir Delver. When Steadfast asked Delver to join his expedition to Manehatten to lead the Adamant who would be going, he had asked to pick his own marine squads to support the Knights. Between his request and Emberglow’s endorsement, it had been apparently enough to have the entire marine squad cleared of suspicion. Although, it was clear that both Gadget and Gearsmith were rather wary of Sir Brightblade. Neither of them said anything, but Emberglow got the impression, from their nervous expressions and pinned ears whenever he was brought up, that he’d had a similar talk with the members of Squad Epsilon. Neither of them wanted to talk about it, so Emberglow let it drop.

That night Emberglow struggled to sleep. She’d never slept in a tent before; camping was not something her family had done much. There wasn’t much budget for family vacations, especially with a shop to run and very narrow profit margins, as well as no other employees to cover. She imagined in other circumstances she’d have been excited, but Emberglow found she just couldn’t sleep. Excitement for the upcoming mission, elation at seeing her friend Gadget again, a nervous desire to impress Lady Bitterroot, and growing dread about Brightblade and his warnings kept bouncing around in her head in rambunctious circles.

It also didn’t help much that Bitterroot snored lightly in her sleep.

“It should have been here,” Brightblade snarled while the Knights were just sitting down for breakfast, “hours ago!” His baleful gaze swept over the assembled ponies, as if somehow it was their fault that the airship had failed to arrive at its scheduled time. His gaze lingered a little too long on her, but he made no accusations.

“It is concerning,” Delver said placatingly. “Perhaps we should send out scouts.”

It was beginning to be a common pattern. Brightblade was very new to command, a fact that was obvious to everypony that spent any time with him. Delver, despite being more experienced, was under his command because of the nature of the mission. Emberglow was becoming even more impressed at Delver’s gentle way of offering suggestions rather than starting arguments with Brightblade.

“Yes, Delver, good idea.” Brightblade nodded. “Send out four scouts as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Delver nodded. He stood to go issue orders to the scouts, leaving his breakfast still mostly untouched. A few minutes later he returned. “Four scouts are following the trail the airship could have taken to get here. They have orders to fly for three hours, then return here if they’ve found nothing.” Brightblade opened his mouth, consternation obvious in his face. “Any further and we’ll need to supply them for a much longer trip.” Brightblade closed his mouth with an annoyed grunt.

Emberglow tried to spend the time after breakfast with the three medics she would be overseeing. All three were combat veterans, with a wealth of experience in the field. There was Cliffjumper, a grey-furred pegasus stallion attached to the scout fire team . There was Tumbleweed, a tan-colored earth pony who had been assigned to Fire Team Corona. Finally there was Sea Star, an aqua-maned, white-furred earth pony mare who had taken over as medic for Fire Team Epsilon.

Mostly Emberglow wanted to see how they dealt with waiting. The odd combination of tension, fear, anticipation, and boredom were taking their toll on everypony, even her.

It was many hours later, during lunch, that they finally received word of the missing airship. A scout burst into the mess hall in a rush of air.

“We need a medic,” she cried out, panting. “Badly wounded ponies!” Emberglow was only a split second behind Bitterroot as both Radiant leapt to their hooves and rushed to follow the scout.

“You two, head to my tent and fetch my and Emberglow’s armor. Scratch that, just the rune gauntlets. Gallop!” Bitterroot ordered as she ran, pointing at two of the marines who were eating in the mess hall. To their credit, neither one hesitated to dash out of the mess hall to follow those orders. “Where are they?” she asked the pegasus scout as the three of them galloped out of the mess hall.

“Coming in behind me…” the scout managed, “Sent me ahead to prepare.” She spoke in quick bursts around her gasping breaths.

“Emberglow, can you fly ahead and assess the situation? Bring them into the sparring ground. Scout, which direction?” The scout pointed, and Emberglow launched herself into the air.

“They’re not far behind!” the scout shouted to her as she pumped her wings. Indeed, she was sure she could see a few specks in motion on the horizon. Flapping as hard as she could, she dashed off in the direction of the approaching pegasi.

It didn’t take long to see that the incoming flyers were in bad shape. Two of them had a makeshift stretcher tied between them with a limp form within. A third scout had another earth pony slumped on his back. There was a fourth pegasus, not dressed in a scout uniform, that appeared to be covered in minor lacerations and bruises. She was barely managing to keep up with the others.

“Keep it up, you’re almost there,” Emberglow called out as she approached, looping so that she fell in right behind the injured pegasus. “Lady Bitterroot is ready to heal your injuries. Who is the worst?”

“The sailor in the stretcher,” one of the scouts panted. “Broken ribs, maybe a cracked skull. I’m not a medic,” he confessed. Emberglow winged over to see if she could see herself. The earth pony was unconscious, his face twisted with pain as he was rushed along in their makeshift transportation. It was too difficult to see, but he was clearly in bad shape, with several lacerations in addition to the broken bones the scout had mentioned.

“What about him?” she asked about the earth pony riding on the scout’s back.

“Two broken legs, maybe a broken jaw,” the scout replied. The earth pony in question was conscious, and he nodded drunkenly, clinging to the pegasus he was riding with his two good front legs. Emberglow could see the back two were oddly angled. She swooped in as close as she could without getting into the pegasus scout’s airspace, taking a closer look at the fractures. One leg was damp with blood, and she could see a tiny jut of bone poking through his skin and fur. The other fracture wasn’t nearly as bad, but she could clearly see the displaced and bulging flesh of a break that was only one step shy of a compound fracture.

“And you?” Emberglow asked the wounded pegasus, the only one of the wounded sailors flying under her own power.

“I’m fine,” she said dismissively, though the pain and exertion of exercise clearly laid heavily on her from her strained expression and voice.

“No time for false bravado,” Emberglow said. “What are your injuries?” She tried to make her voice firm, like an order. The sailor pegasus cringed.

“Uh, cuts and bruises. My head hurts, and I think I’m gonna puke,” she said. “Honestly, make sure the other two are okay first, please,”

“That’s the plan,” Emberglow said. In no time, the pegasi reached the sparring field, where Bitterroot was waiting with the Marine medics. Sea Star was holding Emberglow’s rune gauntlet, ready for her to equip as soon as she landed. She stumbled a little as she touched down, not bothering to slow down before landing. She idly noted that most of the Knights had gathered and were waiting a few paces back, including Brightblade standing near the front.

“Patient in the stretcher is the worst, possible head injury, broken ribs, potential internal damage. The one on the scout’s back has broken legs and maybe facial injuries. The pegasus may have a concussion.” Emberglow called out to Bitterroot as soon as her hooves hit the dirt of the sparring ground. Bitterroot gave a quick nod before dashing towards the worst of the patients on the stretcher, her hoof already raised and tracing a diagnosis rune in the air.

The marine medics surged forward after Bitterroot, and Sea Star brought Emberglow’s gauntlet over and helped her put it on. The other two approached the least wounded of the three sailors, the pegasus who had flown in on her own power.

“Sailor, what happened?” Brightblade called out, trying to approach. Bitterroot shot him a sideways glance and shook her head.

“Not now, sir,” she said sternly, finishing her first spell, a simple diagnosis spell.

“But I need to know…”

“Shut up, sir, and stay back!” Bitterroot snapped, her hoof tracing runes in a blur. “You don’t need to know horseapples until I say so! Medic’s orders!”

“But…”

“Sir!” Emberglow called out, coming to Bitterroot’s aid. “Knight Regulation Book, Chapter seven subsection three. When it comes to the medical care of ponies she’s responsible for, Lady Bitterroot outranks you.” It was a little used rule, not something that came up frequently, but if there was any book about Knights, Emberglow had read it. It was the sort of thing that Brightblade could fight, if he wanted to, but which might end in an inquiry if he did. “We’ll let you know as soon as they’re ready to answer questions, sir.”

Emberglow could see the indecision in his eyes, before he finally stepped back with a scowl and a reluctant nod. Relieved, she turned her back on her commanding officer, focusing on the earth pony who’d been riding on the back of the pegasus scout.

One of the marine medics had helped him off the back of the pegasus he’d been riding, and he was spread out on a bedroll that had been spread out on the ground. One quick diagnosis spell of her own, and she knew what she was dealing with. The pony was conscious, barely, and he watched her with eyes glazed with pain. Both of his rear legs were broken, and his jaw was bruised, but at least it wasn't broken or dislocated. She glanced over at Tumbleweed and Cliffjumper, the two medics working on the wounded pegasus; the sailor mare was covered in a blanket, being treated for shock, but otherwise appeared fine.

“I’m going to need help setting his legs before I can heal the bones,” she said to them. They nodded to each other, and Tumbleweed stayed with the pegasus while Cliffjumper trotted over quickly. Sea Star, the one who had helped Emberglow with her gauntlet, rushed over to stand to the side of the patient, near Emberglow.

“This is gonna hurt,” Cliffjumper said to the patient. “Probably more than when you broke them in the first place. The pretty Knight here is gonna set your legs.” Emberglow tried not to notice what he’d said about her. It was inappropriate, sure, but the wounded soldier could probably use something to distract him. “I’m gonna need you to bite down on this,” he presented the patient with a rolled up bandage. “If you wanna scream, that’s fine too. It’ll be over as quick as we can make it. You want us to wait in between legs, or do ‘em both at the same time?”

“Get it over with,” the sailor rasped, and bit down hard on the offered bandage with a wince of pain. The medic nodded, wrapping his forehooves around the patient’s barrel and cradling the patient’s head on his chest. Sea Star secured the patient’s lower half so Emberglow could get to work setting the bones. The sailor’s fur was matted and damp with sweat and blood from dozens of small cuts; Emberglow was suddenly sympathetic of Brightblade’s curiosity for what had happened to these poor soldiers. But the care came first. She grasped the poor stallion’s hoof in her own, preparing to pull the two fractured bones into alignment so that her healing magic could knit the bone together.

“This is the first time I’ve set a live bone,” she whispered as quietly as she could to the closest medic, Sea Star. Her eyes found Emberglow’s, staring at her sharply. “I’m fine. I’ve practiced quite a bit. Just… tell me before I do something catastrophically wrong, okay?” Emberglow told her. She hoped she sounded much more confident than she felt. The medic nodded, her eyes focused on Emberglow’s hooves as she jerked the bone into place. The patient’s guttural scream was muffled by the rolled up bandage. It went on way too long, and Emberglow was starting to worry when the medic reached down, feeling at the break with her hooves. She didn’t say anything, but her firm nod was a good boost of confidence going into the second set. With a similar motion, she caught the second broken leg in her hooves and set that one as well. The patient, once tense and jerking, suddenly went limp.

“Is he—“ Emberglow began.

“Out cold. Still breathing, Lady Emberglow. You can cast your spells,” the medic at the patient’s head replied. Emberglow nodded, raising her hoof and tracing the runes over the first leg.

Healing magic was never as simple as it seemed in the adventure stories Emberglow had read as a foal. Each fault, each illness, each injury, had to be attended to individually. Each leg would require its own spell to heal. In addition, healing was both uncomfortable and draining for the patient. It was good that the sailor was unconscious already; nopony enjoyed the sensation of weeks or even months of healing, soreness, muscle and bone growth, and itching, all compressed into a few seconds. She finished the four runes that she would need to nearly instantly knit the bones and realign the muscles and tendons. The glowing white writing, floating in midair, shrunk and condensed around Emberglow’s hoof as the spell battery finished powering the magic. She then gently rubbed her glowing hoof against the injured pony’s first broken leg. She felt the tissues and bones moving and rearranging underneath her hoof as the healing magic did its work. When it was done, she checked the lit gems on her spell battery; one of the three green gems had gone dark, and the second was blinking quickly.

“Check to make sure it’s healed properly while I tend to the next one,” she ordered to the medics, who hurried to follow her orders. Again she traced her gauntleted hoof through the air, dragging glowing white runes above the wounded pony. She barely noticed the marine medic carefully prodding and massaging at the bone and muscle of the first leg she had healed. Once again, she touched her glowing hoof to the wound and once again felt the flesh, bone, skin, and fur reshape itself into its proper form. She checked her spell battery again; only one green gem remained lit, blinking slowly. There was enough for one, perhaps two more powerful healing spells. “He’ll be fine. How’s the pegasus?”

“Only minor cuts and a small concussion, ma’am,” Tumbleweed replied. Emberglow nodded; she’d heal the concussion if her spells weren’t needed on the worst of the patients.

“Bitterroot? Need any help?” Emberglow asked, glancing over at where the worst of the three still rested on the makeshift stretcher.

“Do you know the spell to inflate a lung?” Bitterroot asked, managing the question while still mid-cast, her hoof tracing white glow. Emberglow nodded, then realized the other Knight wasn’t even looking her way.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, trotting over. “Which lung?”

“Left. I’ve already healed the rib that was puncturing it.”

“On it,” Emberglow said. Because each type of injury required it’s own spell, there were hundreds of different healing rune combinations. Most Radiants even carried around their own version of a cheat sheet, a small booklet with the combinations listed. Maybe it showed some arrogance, but Emberglow had never needed it. She had memorized them all.

The spell to inflate a lung, knitting the delicate tissues that made up the essential organ, was one of the more difficult and costly spells. The sensation on Emberglow’s end was much different than knitting a broken bone. She didn’t feel the tissues or organs moving about underneath the pony’s skin, but his breathing did become smoother and less jerky.

After all the busy chaos, there were two unconscious but mostly healthy ponies and two tired but satisfied Radiants with mostly empty rune gauntlets. The third sailor, the pegasus, was ordered to a tent to rest while the medics enlisted the help of a few marines to gently transport the two sleeping sailors to their own tent. Emberglow took a minute to take stock of the situation and the ponies who had gathered around to watch. None of the scouts were present, nor was Brightblade, but many of the other Knights and marines had assembled. She walked over to Delver, who was with those watching.

“Brightblade?” she asked him softly, trying not to sound nervous. The adrenaline of the moment was passing, and now she was beginning to feel anxious about confronting him earlier. She cringed inside remembering the way she’d defied him, in front of all of the assembled ponies. Surely that wasn’t the best thing to have happen after he had already expressed his doubts in her.

“Somepony suggested that rather than sit here and simmer in his anger, perhaps he could debrief the scouts while you and Bitterroot worked on the wounded ponies. It seemed like the best use of everypony’s time,” Delver said flatly. She looked at her former commander. His lips were tight and his ears tense. Delver’s eyes found hers, and she saw disapproval, before his expression mellowed into a flat, emotionless mask. “He’s new to command, Emberglow. We’ll have to be patient.” There was a twist in his lips right at the end of his sentence.

“Any advice?” she asked.

“Don’t yell at him in front of the entire camp?” Delver said, smirking. Emberglow tried to scowl, but let out a small whimper instead.

“Did I mess up too bad?” she asked, hating how pathetic she sounded. Delver shook his head.

“You’ll be fine. Brightblade was wrong, and I think he knows it. If he doesn’t, Bitterroot will tell him. He’ll probably be cranky at you for a while.”

“Crankier, you mean,” Emberglow grumped.

“You’ll weather this storm, Emberglow,” Delver said, patting her on the withers with one hoof. “Lay low for a bit, don’t get in his way, and you’ll be fine.”

Brightblade wasn’t the only pony in the camp who was desperate to know what had happened. The other Knights pressed Emberglow and Bitterroot with questions about what the scouts had found. Unfortunately, Emberglow didn’t know any more than they did. All three scouts were sequestered with Brightblade, being debriefed, and the sailors were still recovering. Whatever had happened was a disaster; the Lightning Dust had been carrying a crew of ten ponies, including Sir Barium Ion. Brightblade finally emerged after an hour locked away with the scouts to announce an immediate meeting with all of the Knights. Fortunately for Emberglow, he appeared too distracted to take her to task for the way she’d ordered him out of the way earlier.

Back in the mess hall, the Knights gathered together. The three pegasi scouts were already there. Brightblade had made sure the three of them had water and a snack to regain their energy after their long, hard flight. All three were munching salads and drinking liberally from large mugs.

“Lightning Dust was attacked. Barium Ion is dead,” Brightblade said with no preamble once the last of the Knights had sat down in the mess hall. It was a testament to the professionalism of the assembled Knights that nopony whispered or muttered at the revelation. “These three scouts managed to pull the only survivors out of the wreckage. We don’t have the full picture yet,” he scowled at Bitterroot and Emberglow as he said it, “but as soon as the three sailors wake up we’ll have a better idea of what happened. From what they told our scouts, however, it was heretics. Probably even heretic Knights.”

That got everypony’s attention. They all knew it was a good chance that there would be some form of heretic presence in Manehatten, but nopony had openly spoken of them until now.

“On top of that, we have no airship now for our drop,” Brightblade said. “I’ve sent a dragonfire scroll to Steadfast Word, asking for a second ship, but that could take as long as a week to arrange. Even if they left right now, this second, they wouldn’t get here until late tomorrow. It looks like we’ll be waiting on our plots for a while no matter what.

"Unfortunately, that means we can’t make any specific plans until I hear back from my superiors. So for now you’re all at liberty. Bitterroot and Emberglow, I’ll expect regular updates on your three patients. Please inform me as soon as any of them are available to speak with me.” The words were polite, even though his expression was twisted as he said it. It seemed as if they were all going to pretend that Brightblade’s confrontation with the two Radiants would be ignored for now. Emberglow was fine with this.

“Joyful Noise, I realize we’re too far away for your equipment to pick up much detail from the city, but I’d like you keeping an eye out for any unusual motic activity, either in the ruins or anywhere else. I don’t think a little setback will stop us from pursuing our mission, so be prepared to leave at any time. If we have to, we’ll go in on hoof, though I’d rather avoid that possibility. I’ll let you all know as soon as I get word from the Capital.”

“Sir, if you’d like to come with us, we’ll check on them right now,” Bitterroot said. “The two we healed are probably still asleep, but the pegasus might be able to speak with you, if you take things slowly and gently.”

“I assume you want to be there to keep an eye on things?” the Mystic said.

“We will be there, yes,” Bitterroot said, and Emberglow tried not to cringe at the hint of a challenge in the veteran’s tone. She didn't need to draw even more of Brightblade's ire.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Brightblade said. The three of them left the command center while the other Knights milled out, murmuring amongst themselves about the recent events.

The outpost was not usually this populated, so it didn’t have a dedicated medical tent. The three medics had set up the wounded in their own tent, and Tumbleweed stood outside, ready to deflect any curious or intrusive ponies who wanted a hint at what was going on. When he saw the three Knights approaching, he saluted.

“The two earth ponies are asleep, but the pegasus is sitting up. I gave her some water and an ice pack for her head injury, but she’s awake enough to answer questions. Please don’t wake the other two if you can help it.”

“Thank you, Tumbleweed. Please continue keeping anypony else out,” Bitterroot said, and the three Knights entered into the large tent. It was dark, with barely enough light to maneuver around the sleeping sailors to the cot where the sailor pegasus sat up, holding an ice pack to her head while she sipped from a cup. Brightblade let the Radiant veteran approach first.

“Hello, sailor. What’s your name?” Bitterroot asked.

“H-Heliotrope, my lady,” the sailor stammered. “My f-friends call me Helie.”

“Well, Helie, how are you feeling?” Bitterroot asked.

“My head still hurts, but I don’t feel nauseous anymore,” Heliotrope replied, her voice shaky.

“Sir Brightblade here would like to know a bit about what happened,” Bitterroot suggested gently. Heliotrope looked up at the Mystic, her expression pensive, then nodded, winced, and nodded more slowly.

“Y-yeah. Yeah! I’m fine to talk for a bit,” the sailor said, her eyes darting nervously between the three Knights. “I, um, don’t want to let them win. You’re gonna get them back, right?”

“How ‘bout you just start at the beginning?” Bitterroot suggested. Heliotrope took a deep breath and began.

“It happened a couple of hours before the scouts showed up, I think. It’s hard to keep track of time, I was knocked out for a bit after the crash. We were heading here, making good time, when I saw somepony sitting on a cloud in our path. There weren’t no other clouds, so I told Captain Northfrost and Sir Barium. We got closer, only it weren’t somepony, but some griffon.” She shook her head, her eyes distant, lost in a haze of fearful memory.

“Before we could get too close, he called out. Had some sort of spell on him so we could hear him from a distance. He said he knew where we were going, and said we had one chance to turn around. ‘Manehatten’s sacred to us’, he said. ‘Stay out or else.’ Sir Barium cast something and talked back at him, said ‘no,’ basically. So the griffon shrugged and flew off. Sir Barium kinda wanted to chase him, but I was the only pegasus onboard Lightning Dust, and I’m no fighter, so we just kept going.” She looked ashamed at the admission.

“Couple of minutes later, the whole ship shook like something hit it hard from underneath. There was a loud bang, an explosion. I flew over the side to see what was going on, and there was a huge chunk of the hull missing, scarred and blackened. Something was firing ordinance at us from the ground. There was tons of smoke coming from the hull, and I saw Cablewright and Sweetsong go over the side, and they were spinning and falling, and I wasn’t fast enough…” The sailor began to sob, bitter tears leaking out of clenched shut eyes as she pounded her free hoof against the bedroll. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t quick enough, I couldn’t catch either one of them…”

“Hey, hush, you need to calm down and relax as much as possible,” Bitterroot said soothingly. She caught the sailor’s hoof in both of hers, gently stroking the hoof in a calming manner. “You’re still injured, and you need to focus on healing yourself. You’ll do that by relaxing and staying calm.”

“’Kay,” Heliotrope sniffed.

“Take your time, sailor,” Brightblade said, and Emberglow was shocked at how gentle his voice was. “We can come back later if we have to.”

“No, it’s fine, I wanna… I wanna tell it. So you can hit them back,” Heliotrope said, her ears laying back as she snarled. “I flew back up to the ship after I failed to catch them in time, and it was a mess on deck. We’d been hit by two more projectiles, and the balloon was leaking. We were going down. There were ponies I didn’t know on deck, pegasi with weapons in black clothes. They’d killed some of the other sailors. I saw Captain Northwind was down, bleeding and not moving. I could barely stand, the airship was shaking and rattling apart as it crumbled in midair. Some of the black clothed pegasi were surrounding Sir Barium, poking at him with their spears. He had his spear out, and was trying to cast something, and one of the bad guys tried to stop him with a spear thrust.” By this point, Heliotrope’s entire body was trembling. Bitterroot patted her comfortingly.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not a fighter, I don’t really know what happened next, only I knew I had to stop the bad guy from, uh, stopping Sir Barium. I leapt at him, trying to hit him with my hooves, and one of his friends swung his weapon at me, and he hit me with the back end of his spear.” Heliotrope pointed with one hoof at a spot just below her left ear. “My vision went kind of fuzzy and I felt myself fall to the deck. I remember screams, and more falling, and then a big crash. Next thing I knew one of your scouts was waking me up.”

“What happened to Sir Barium?” Brightblade asked. Heliotrope shook her head, flinched again, and pressed the ice pack more firmly against her injured head.

“Um, I saw him after the scouts helped me up. He was already dead,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. You faced off against heretics and lived,” Bitterroot said. “You’re not a soldier, but your first instinct was to go to the aid of a Knight. You do the Saints honor with your courage.”

“It weren’t nothing special like that, my lady,” Heliotrope muttered. “I’m no hero type.”

“The Saints don’t ask for perfection, only our best efforts,” Bitterroot said. “You did what you could.”

“Too bad it didn’t mean nothing,” the sailor muttered, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. “Sorry I couldn’t tell you much more.”

“Don’t let it concern you,” Brightblade said. “You told me enough for now. As soon as your fellow sailors wake up, I’m sure they’ll be able to fill in the details. We’ll leave you to rest.”

“Yes, sir,” the sailor said obediently. “Um, lady Radiant? The young one?”

“Yes?” Emberglow asked, surprised to be addressed. She’d said nothing for a reason, feeling like she didn’t want to intrude on the business of older, more experienced Knights.

“That was my fiancé you healed,” Heliotrope said, nodding towards the earth pony who’d had both legs broken. “I tried to tell the idiot it was bad luck to propose to me right before we left on a mission, but Salt Spray said…” she sighed, clenching her eyes shut for a moment. “…he said it was a milk run. An easy mission, then back home. The combat bonus would help fund our ceremony. Thanks for saving him, my lady.”

“Uh, yes, sure,” Emberglow said uncomfortably. She decided not to mention that none of her fiancé’s injuries were truly life threatening. “He should be fine now, too. Um, congratulations on your wedding.” She slipped out of the tent with the other Knights, cursing her own awkwardness. It didn’t help that Bitterroot let out a snort of amusement.

“’Congratulations on your wedding’? Smooth, Emberglow,” the veteran said with a teasing bump of her shoulder. Emberglow just grumbled back at her good-naturedly while Brightblade, with an annoyed glance at both Radiants, trotted off towards his own tent.

Chapter 17

Sir Brightblade

Received your note yesterday. New airship will be inbound within a month. Arrival time and date will follow. Do not attempt ingress by hoof. Continue observations from range and notify us of any change. Hold your position for now. We are sending pegasus couriers so that your Knights and soldiers can send and receive mail. Keep morale high, and be prepared to embark at any moment.

Sir Steadfast Word

1112 AF, Ruins of Manehatten

“Ponies, gather around. I have an announcement.” Brightblade’s magically amplified voice boomed throughout the Outpost, making the air vibrate with the sound. He was pacing back and forth, his tail swishing with agitation while Emberglow and the rest of the Knights and marines trotted over to the front door of the command building.

“I’ve received a scroll back from New Canterlot City. Our replacement airship may take some time to arrive. In the meantime, you are all required to be ready to leave at any moment.” He stopped speaking.

The entire camp was completely silent for a long, expectant moment.

“Was there... anything else, sir?” Delver prompted gently, breaking the silence. Brightblade huffed angrily.

“Other ponies have decided that morale would be best served if you had some contact with home while we waited,” he said, though his tone was clearly grudging. “Against my objections, you are allowed to write letters home, but you may not speak of anything that is going on here. I will be reading all letters before they are sent. Also, my superior in the Mystics, Sir Steadfast Word, will be reaching out to your friends and families to send letters here.”

“He wasn’t going to add that bit?” Bitterroot muttered under her breath, next to Emberglow. She shrugged.

“Do we have a timetable for the new airship, sir?” Delver asked. Brightblade shook his head.

“No. Headquarters didn’t seem fit to tell us.”

Emberglow’s eyebrows narrowed. That didn’t feel right. Why would Steadfast confirm that an airship was on the way, and not give a time? There was something Brightblade wasn’t telling them.

“He’s lying to us,” she surprised herself by whispering out loud. She was even more surprised when Bitterroot nodded.

“Yup. He doesn’t want us to know when we’re leaving. He doesn’t trust us, that’s for sure.” Bitterroot nudged her with a hoof. “Whatever, though, right? At least we’ll get mail. That’ll be great. I have a few grand-nephews back in Appleoosa who just started learning the alphabet. I’d love to hear from them.”

“Mail would be good for morale,” Emberglow admitted. The thought brought images of her parents to mind, and suddenly she missed the smell of fresh pancakes and strawberry syrup. Maybe she’d even hear from Lofty or Turquoise, if she didn’t write to them first. She hoped Steadfast had reached out to them.

They weren’t the only ones in the crowd who were murmuring, so Brightblade cleared his throat loudly for attention before continuing.

“I’ll be meeting with Delver and Bitterroot to come up with a schedule for the foreseeable future, but in the meantime, you are required to maintain a constant state of readiness. Until this afternoon, though, we have no plans, so you’re at liberty. Dismissed, ponies.”

“This meeting’s gonna be a mess,” Bitterroot whispered. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Emberglow said grimly as Bitterroot followed Delver and Brightblade into the command building. Suddenly she was at a loss as to what she should be doing. She glanced around at the crowd, and saw several ponies in the same boat as her, milling about and watching the closed door of the command building.

Most of the crowd began to disperse, wandering off to make use of their free time, but one of the marines in particular sought out Emberglow’s company.

“Emberglow! It’s so good to see you,” Gadget trotted over, laughing. Emberglow grinned. It had been a busy few days, and neither of them had been able to take much time to speak.

“I was so surprised to see that you and your dad were here,” Emberglow said.

“Pleasantly surprised, I hope?” Gadget smiled wryly.

“Of course.” Emberglow grinned back, nodding. “I was really worried about all of you, after…” She trailed off and glanced around.

“C’mon, we’ll go for a walk,” Gadget said, looking a bit nervous. Nopony was watching them, but talking about what had happened back at Port Luminescence in the open would certainly invite trouble. As they started to trot off together, however, Emberglow caught sight of Gearsmith, who looked displeased about something. Gadget didn’t seem to notice, however, and they quickly moved around the corner of a building where Emberglow could no longer see him.

“So what happened?” Emberglow asked, keeping her voice low. “With the investigation, and Hollybright?”

“It was brutal,” Gadget shuddered. “I was sure we were going to be discharged. Or worse.” Her eyes found Emberglow’s, and they were full of fear. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been on the bad end of a Mystic’s investigation, but I never want to be there again.”

Emberglow couldn’t help herself. She reached out and pulled Gadget into a quick, sympathetic hug. It was only a squeeze, only a split second, but she still felt warm. “How’d you get out of it?”

“That’s the thing,” Gadget shrugged. “It wasn’t anything we did. We all felt so helpless. But Sir Delver told Dad the whole story as soon as we got down here. He said the Adamants were pissed that one of their own would…” she blushed, shaking her head. “Um, would do what Bubblegum did. They wanted to make up some lost ground, recover their honor, you know? So when that Mystic, Sir Steady or something…”

“Sir Steadfast,” Emberglow supplied, and Gadget snorted in amusement at the interruption.

“Yeah, him. When he asked the Adamant for Knights to fill out the mission, they made Delver’s presence a sticking point. In turn, he said he wouldn’t go if our Strike Squad weren’t cleared, too. Since they knew we’d done nothing wrong, the whole process just got sorta streamlined.”

“And here you are,” Emberglow grinned. Gadget nodded.

“Yeah. Dad was really happy he got to still serve under Sir Delver. I guess I am too; Sir Delver’s a good Knight.” She blushed, glancing at Emberglow with embarrassment. “Not that all of you aren’t good!” She sounded nervous.

“Well, you and I have proof that Knights aren’t always good,” Emberglow muttered. Gadget gaped at her, then looked away with a frown. “Sorry. Let’s talk about something else. Did you get to see your mom when you went back to the city?”

“Oh yeah, mom’s doing great. She tried to convince both of us to retire and join her in gardening.” Gadget scoffed. “I couldn’t do it, you know? I think I’ll be in the marines my whole life, until they kick me out. Or I die.”

It was a morbid thought, and Emberglow frowned. To be fair, though, it was the same for her.

“Well, however we got here,” Gadget continued, noting Emberglow’s expression with a concerned look, “I’m glad to be here now. Me and Dad both. The rest of the squad, too. Working with Sir Delver is great, but there’s you, too, Lady Emberglow.” Her voice glowed with admiration. “I’m really happy to be working with you.” There was something in her smile, the warm, affectionate grin, that sent a shiver of fear through Emberglow’s fur.

“We have to be careful,” she whispered, almost too low for even Gadget to hear. “You know, after that night at the bar, Bubblegum thought we were on a…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to, from the look of frigid fear that slid over Gadget’s eyes.

“She… But it wasn’t!” Gadget protested. “It was…”

“Still. We have to be careful,” Emberglow repeated, and Gadget gulped and nodded.

“You’re acting the fool!”

“Dad, it’s not…”

“I know you don’t see it, but I do. I just want to…”

“I’m done talking about this, Dad. Don’t you have a gun to disassemble, or something?”

Emberglow knew she wasn’t meant to overhear the fight. It was clearly a private moment. She was just dropping by to see if her friend wanted to join her for lunch. The air of conflict, however, made her hesitate. She was holding with indecision just outside Gadget and Gearsmith’s tent when the flap suddenly tore back, revealing a surprised looking Gadget.

“Oh! Lady Emberglow! I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sorry to startle you.” Emberglow decided to pretend she hadn’t overheard.

The tent flap swished aside again, and Gearsmith was there, looking furious for a second before his face went blank, hiding behind a mask of indifference.

“Lady Emberglow,” he greeted, barely polite as he brushed past the two of them. Emberglow watched nervously as he passed.

“I can come back later, if I need to,” Emberglow said gently. Gadget shook her head.

“No, it’s fine. What can I help you with?”

“I was just seeing if the two of you wanted to head to the mess hall together. It’s almost lunch time, and I’m bored,” Emberglow shrugged. it was getting to be a common sentiment these days. With the hours turning into days and even weeks, boredom was proving to be the biggest problem they had. Delver did his best to keep ponies occupied with training drills and sparring, but it was a struggle.

“I don’t think my dad’s available,” Gadget said huffily, glancing after the retreating figure of her father. “But I am. Let’s go.”

The two mares walked side by side, through the marine tents towards the mess hall. All about them, ponies went about their day under a cloud of stress and growing tension. Everypony moved about with nervous, darting glances and overly quick steps.

“Are they at it again?” Gadget whispered. Emberglow nodded. Gadget shuddered, her own pace picking up. Brightblade and Delver argued nearly every day, now. They didn’t fight in front of the other soldiers, but that didn’t help anypony from hearing the muffled sounds of angry yelling coming from the pair whenever they were alone together.

In the mess hall, the cooks were gearing up to lunch, though it was a bit early. Emberglow saw that they’d been busy. Lunch looked fantastic; the cooks had gone all out with a huge spread of fresh fruit, vegetables, and tea sandwiches. It was a veritable rainbow of fresh colors, bright and inviting.

“Woah,” Gadget exclaimed cheerfully. “What’s the occasion?”

“Bitterroot’s idea,” Emberglow said, grinning. “We need a bit of a fun feast. Something to pick up spirits around here.” She’d known what was coming, and had just wanted to see Gadget’s reaction.

“It’s a good idea,” Gadget grinned. “So should we wait, or…”

“Rank has privileges,” Emberglow said, feeling bold, and moved over to the table with a smirk. The cooks were still setting up, but nopony objected when she grabbed a plate and started loading it down with offerings. Gadget nervously followed suit.

“This is way better than camp rations,” Gadget giggled as she put a slice of watermelon and several grapes on her plate, before grabbing a pair of avocado sandwiches. “It’s like a summer picnic. I’ll bet this cost a lot.”

“It was all Bitterroot. Her family has money, so the first day when she wrote back she told them to send vegetables and other goodies with the mail,” Emberglow explained. “Because it came from private donation, Brightblade couldn’t complain about misuse of resources. Not that he didn’t try.”

Emberglow and Gadget found seats across from each other, excited for the colorful plates of salad in front of them. Gadget was right; it was a huge step up from the tasteless nutritional rations, full of grains and vitamins and absolutely no flavor. They dug in eagerly.

Emberglow had chosen her seat deliberately, so she could see the reactions as ponies filtered in for lunch. Brightblade scowled a little, but even he eagerly piled his plate before retreating to the privacy of another room. Delver gave a rare smile, and the Redmane twins even let out a cheer. By the time Bitterroot made it, there was a crowd of lighthearted soldiers and Knights, all happily chowing down on fresh salad for the first time in weeks.

“Bitterroot is a genius. Who would have thought a little salad would do all this?” Gadget muttered with awe. Emberglow nodded.

“It’ll only be temporary, though, if we don’t leave soon,” she said. “At least, that’s what Bitterroot said. I hope she’s wrong. Or that the ship will finally arrive.”

“He’s still being quiet about when that is, huh?” Gadget whispered, and Emberglow nodded. She didn’t need to ask who Gadget was speaking about.

“I think that’s what they were arguing about today.” Emberglow nodded in Delver’s direction. “Delver’s too professional to argue in public though.”

“Everypony knows he’s fighting for us,” Gadget snorted. “Seriously, he’s probably the best Knight I’ve ever worked with.” She seemed to catch what she’d said too late, and her eyes went wide even as Emberglow raised her eyebrows. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!” she yelped, her face going red as she waved her hooves in a panic. Emberglow was laughing.

“It’s okay, I know what you meant,” she shook her head in amusement. “You’re allowed to like Delver more than you like me.”

“I like you plenty, Emberglow,” Gadget retorted, then flinched. “Lady Emberglow. Sorry. I guess that’s the problem. Sometimes I don’t think of you as a Knight.”

“I think…” Emberglow began thoughtfully, “you’re one of the only ponies that thinks like that. Even my own parents feel distant sometimes. You never have. Thank you, Gadget.” She realized as she said it just how much she meant it, and the warmth in her chest burned out the icicle of fear. She reached out and patted Gadget’s hoof. “If it means you still treat me like a normal pony, you can call me Emberglow, if you like.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to, Lady Emberglow,” Gadget said ruefully. “I can try, though.”

“Up and alert, you two. Wake up the other Knights and the marines and send them to the airship field. We’ll be onboard Irrepressible before the sun is up,” Brightblade said softly into Bitterroot and Emberglow’s tent, after two more bitter, boring weeks had passed. It was one in the morning. Brightblade waited long enough to ensure that the two were up and moving before exiting the tent.

“He couldn’t give us more warning? Or have our departure be at a saner hour? Or bring coffee?” Bitterroot said, sighing.

“Just thank the Saints we’re finally leaving. I didn’t want to spend one more day sitting on my plot,” Emberglow grumbled sleepily, gathering her things.

“Oh wow, Emberglow. Did you just complain?” Bitterroot shot back with mock shock in her voice. “You never complain. You must be sleepier than you look.”

“Hush, you,” Emberglow said, shoving the veteran gently with one hoof. “I complain sometimes.”

“You sure about that?” Bitterroot said, smirking. The two ponies took a few seconds to stretch out stiff limbs and slip on their saddlebags, kept packed and ready at the foot of their cots for two weeks now. It only took a few moments to change out of their sleepwear and into their robes. There would be time onboard the airship to don their armor. “You go left, I’ll go right?” the veteran asked, motioning to the rows of tents spreading out in the predawn darkness.

“Got it,” Emberglow said, moving to the nearest tent on the left, a tent shared by the Redmane twins. She poked her head through the flap, barely able to see both twins curled up in their cots. At least they hadn’t been fighting last night.

“Hey, wake up!” Emberglow said to announce her presence. She had expected to go inside the tent and shake them awake, but at the sound of her voice both Adamants twitched in their beds and lifted up their heads.

“Huh? Whazgoinon?” Tad slurred, while Gem blinked at her blearily.

“Our ship’s here. We’re leaving before sunrise,” Emberglow said. Both Adamants smiled and jumped out of bed, shaking out their manes and leaning over to hoof bump each other.

“Finally!” Tad crowed, while Gem pranced on all four hooves in excitement.

“I’ve got more tents to check. Meet at the airship field when you’re ready.”

Emberglow went to the sergeants’ tents first, to have them help wake up their soldiers. Many of the military ponies reacted much like the Redmanes, if a bit more subdued. Most of them sprang out of bed with an energy that Emberglow admired. She even got to wake up Gadget and Gearsmith in their tent.

“Best news in weeks,” Gadget told her with a bright smile, that Emberglow found herself returning. She ignored the fluttering stomach that the beautiful smile gave her. Gearsmith was also rising from his cot, though the look he was giving Emberglow was decidedly less warm. It was the same kind of look he’d been giving her for two weeks now.

“I’m sorry, Gadget, but could you go check on Tumbleweed and Cliffjumper in their tents? Gearsmith will get your kit and your saddlebags ready to go.” Emberglow said impulsively. She hadn’t really planned it, but she was tired of the hard stares she was getting from somepony who was supposed to be a friend. Gadget glanced between the Knight and her father, her expression pensive. “Please?” Emberglow added.

“Um, yes, Lady Emberglow,” she said, and brushed past Emberglow out of the tent. She stood still, watching the older engineer, who was slowly starting to look like he was being backed into a corner.

“Something I can do to help you, my lady?” Gearsmith asked, his voice just barely polite. He slipped his own saddlebags on top of his combat uniform; apparently the marines had been sleeping in uniform in preparation for a sudden departure.

“Yes. You can tell me what I did to make you angry at me,” Emberglow said. She had never been very good with subtlety.

“Oh? You don’t know?” Gearsmith said, his eyes not meeting Emberglow’s as he arranged some final personal items for his and his daughter’s saddlebags. “Of course you wouldn’t notice. You’re a Knight, we’re just little ponies. You have far too many important things to do to notice the goings on of ponies like me and my daughter.”

“What? No, stop. I’ve never treated you that way!” Emberglow protested. Gearsmith snorted.

“You don’t think so, do you? But you’re just like Bubblegum.”

“No!” Emberglow cried out. “I’m nothing like…”

“You don’t even realize it!” Gearsmith hissed, trying to keep his voice low. “But sometimes you Knights just do whatever you want, and damn the consequences. Do you think Bubblegum spent any time thinking about us when she was fucking that Saints-damned bird? No! But that didn’t stop the horseapples from falling on us anyways, did it? If Delver hadn’t made his little deal, the entire team of marines could have ended up discharged, and then banished or in a reeducation camp! The Mystic investigator was saying it as if it were a foregone conclusion!”

“But…I had nothing to do with that,” Emberglow said. “It wasn’t my fault Bubblegum did, uh, what she did.”

“Of course not. But you’ve got no problem setting up to do it again, aren’t you?”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, Gearsmith,” Emberglow hissed back. She was beginning to grow angry herself. How dare he compare her to Bubblegum?

“I know what my daughter is, and so do you,” Gearsmith said, his eyes snapping up to finally meet hers, and Emberglow felt her stomach turn to ice. “I know what she’s been struggling with her whole life. And she’s been doing well, by the grace of the Saints. She’s been controlling it. But then you flit into her life. I’ve seen how you look at her. How she looks at you. You know what happens, Lady Emberglow, when you finally get caught? You’re a Knight. You’ll get a slap on the wrist. An ‘official censure on your record’. Stern, disapproving looks from your fellows. There’s no real chance of you getting a week in the pillory. A whipping. A caning. A banishment. Or a noose.”

“Gearsmith, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ she took a breath, and started again. “I’m not—.” She stopped, the denial frozen on her lips, on the tip of her tongue. The words caught because she knew absolutely they would be a lie. Her anger and denial had evaporated, now there was only guilt and shame. She groped for something to say to appease the soldier. “I didn’t mean to give you a reason to worry.” Emberglow flinched even before she finished saying it. She knew just how limp and dead it sounded. Gearsmith caught it as well, and laughed bitterly.

“Oh, you sound so remorseful, Emberglow,” he said. Any hint of respect was gone from his voice.

“What would you like me to do about it?” Emberglow snapped back. “I’d promise to stay away from her, but I can’t! In case you didn’t notice, we’re about to parachute into Manehatten!” Gearsmith flinched away from her sudden flash of anger, and Emberglow stepped forward, her mind boiling with fury. “Maybe you’ve forgotten who you’re speaking with, marine.”

As soon as the words left her lips, she wished she could claw them back. Gearsmith’s entire body jerked, his eyes wide with shock, his ears quivering.

There was a pause of silence, then Gearsmith spoke. “I have to get me and my daughter’s gear onboard the airship, my lady,” His temper was held only by the thinnest veneer of insincere respect. “Do I have your leave to go?”

“Gearsmith, no, please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Emberglow said, her sudden burst of fury deflating as quickly as it had arisen.

“Do I have your leave, my lady?” Gearsmith insisted. His whole body was shaking, whether from rage or fear or a combination of both.

“Gearsmith, we’re supposed to be friends. I thought…”

“Do I have your leave!” he interrupted one last time, his teeth clenched tightly. His eyes and ears had both drooped, and his tail was limp. He looked as if he was either about to drop at her knees and beg, or launch into a storming tirade. Emberglow didn’t know what else to say.

“You may go,” she sighed, resigned, and he nodded, scooping up the last of his and Gadget’s gear as quickly as he could, before rushing out of the tent. Emberglow blinked, feeling the tears in her eyes, before trotting over to Gadget’s cot. With a flop, she plunged her face into the other mare’s pillow, hating herself for enjoying the scent of lavender soap and pretty mare, and screamed until she couldn’t breathe any longer. Then she took a breath and screamed again. That was all she had time for; there was work to do.

When she reached the airship field about half an hour later, after ensuring that everypony who was coming was awake, she saw soldiers loading crates onto an unfamiliar airship. It was still too dark to make out many of the details, but it was clearly smaller and sleeker than the ship they’d flown in on. Its hull was painted sky blue, with an off-white balloon. Emberglow assumed it was meant to blend in with the sky. From the size, she could tell there were only two decks, barely any space for storage, and only two large guns, one on each side of the hull. On the staging ground near the airship spire, it was controlled chaos. Marines rushed about organizing gear and helping Knights get their armor crates and weapons on board.

She saw Gadget and Gearsmith having an animated discussion as he hauled his own large guns on board the airship. Both of them appeared angry and afraid, though their voices were far too low to carry. Emberglow decided that this was one storm she didn’t want to get caught in. After ensuring that her own armor and weapons were being loaded on board, she bypassed the spire entirely by flying onto the deck of the airship herself. Brightblade was already there, directing traffic. He scowled when she touched down.

“Just stay out of the way,” he muttered at her. Emberglow nodded and found a spot out of the way, near the railing. She watched as ponies scurried about, loading supplies and equipment. Like Brightblade had wished, the gear and ponies had all been loaded before the sun peeked above the horizon, though it was announcing its impending arrival with a pink glow in the clouds over the ruined city. Brightblade barely waited until the ponies on the ground were clear before he ordered the new ship’s captain, an earth pony mare with black fur and a gray mane named Stormsfoal to take off into the predawn air.

“Ponies, it’s an hour and a half to our drop zone. Knights, get in your armor. Marines, get your gear in order and get ready to jump. No relaxing. This is the real deal, ponies. Be ready.” Brightblade was already dressed in his armor, and he took the sergeant of the pegasus scouts aside. Soon there was a rotating patrol of scouts flying in front and to the sides of the airship. While the pegasi could fly just a bit faster than the ship if they pushed themselves, it was far too fast for them to keep up the speed for a longer than a few minutes. Brightblade wanted scouts, though, so the seven scouts took turns dashing in front of the airship for a few minutes before switching back to rest and get a drink.

As the sun finally rose, the bones of Manehatten were revealed in all their sad horror. Rather than a few scattered stones or husks of buildings, the broken corpses of massive structures formed a forest that slowly became all Emberglow could see as they travelled closer to the center of the city. Though overgrown with a thousand years of foliage, the evidence of ruined buildings, cramped together in tight blocks, could still be seen between the green patches. The streets shattered and shifted unevenly throughout the ruins. Crumbling buildings and iron struts reached into the sky like barren tree trunks, twisted and naked, glinting in the sun in between trees and greenery. Emberglow was still fixated on the skeleton city when a pony sidled up beside her.

“Lady Emberglow, I wish to apologize for my earlier words,” Gearsmith said, and Emberglow looked at the stallion. What she saw made her want to scream again. The stallion stood, watching her with wary, fearful eyes. His posture was slumped and weak, and his ears were pinned back. “Clearly I misinterpreted the situation, and I implied things I had no idea about. If you wish to punish me, I won’t object. Just, please don’t hurt my daughter.” By the end of his little speech, Gearsmith was shaking, and Emberglow felt sick.

“Gearsmith, no…” was all she managed before the marine bowed low and fled.

This time, there was no pillow to scream into.

Was this how most ponies saw Knights? Was this going to be her life from now, to be feared by other ponies? He hadn’t acted this way before, back in Port Luminescence. After a glance over the deck, she found Gadget leaning up against a rail and trotted over.

“Everything okay with Dad?” she asked softly as Emberglow reached her.

“I…” Emberglow sighed. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. She didn’t feel right, trying to sugar coat things for Gadget. “I think I scared him.”

“Oh,” Gadget said softly. They stood, side by side in uncomfortable silence as sailors, Knights, and marines moved about behind them. The two mares quietly watched the desiccated city slip away beneath them. The distance between them felt like a physical barrier to Emberglow, like a steel wall, but she didn’t feel like spending the few remaining minutes before their drop with anypony else. Even when Brightblade came by to warn everypony that they would be jumping in ten minutes, Emberglow and Gadget didn’t leave the railing.

“Armor on, everypony,” Brightblade called over the deck. Ponies began shifting about, readying weapons and gear.

“Let me help you,” Gadget said, and Emberglow nodded solemnly. In leaded silence, the two ponies worked together to get Emberglow into her armor. When she was done, they returned wordlessly to the railing.

“I think that’s our drop site,” Gadget broke the silence suddenly, pointing at an uneven hill in the distance. It was a huge stretch of land, largely untouched by the shattered ruins around it. Like most of the ruins, though, it was still completely overgrown with wild flora. Emberglow strained to look at the hill, wondering if she might see any sign of the legendary monsters that stalked the ruins. All she saw, though, was the tops of the trees below.

“Ponies, we’re jumping in five minutes,” Brightblade called out. “I’m sorry that we don’t have a Jubilant to lead us in prayer, so I’ll have to suffice. Saints, defend us as we dive into the maw of nightmares. Guide our hooves and our feathers to your will. Saint Twilight, fill us with insight and inspiration. Help us find what we’re looking for and keep it from the hooves of the accursed. Saint Applejack, keep us safe from any within our number that would do us harm. Saint Rainbow, guide our spear points and bullets, and bolster our armor with faith and confidence. All Saints keep us.”

“All Saints keep us,” everypony intoned afterwards.

“Take these,” Brightblade said, passing a small bag to their group. “I’ve cast a far-speaking spell on these ear clips. Everypony wearing one should be able to hear what I’m saying, even over the wind and the air as we’re falling.” There were enough for each Knight, and the sergeants of each marine fire team. The clip was simple, a single piece of metal that could be attached to a pony’s ear. Emberglow clipped hers on, and immediately could hear everything Brightblade was saying as if he were whispering in her ear, even though he was speaking softly from several feet away. It was slightly disturbing to hear his voice so close.

“Okay, ponies. There’s something down there in Manehatten. The heretics want it, so we know it’s important. We have to find it before they do. I have faith in all of you to do your duty.” Emberglow saw his eyes twitch briefly in her direction. “Everypony to the railing. Stay close, trust in your teammates, your parachutes, and most of all, trust in the Saints.”

The smaller airship had a clever mechanism in the railing; with a wrench of a heavy lever, the entire railing rotated outward to be flush with the outside hull, removing the last inconvenience for the parachuting ponies.

“Time to go, ponies. Jump!” Brightblade called, his voice a shout in Emberglow’s ear.

The jump was an ordered affair; the pegasus scouts went first, sleekly muscled figures crouched tight like springs lunging off the side of the airship. Their wings were clutched tightly to their sides as they dropped towards the ground like blue- and gold-clad arrowheads. The two marine squads went next, barely a second after the pegasus fire team.

As each marine launched him or herself off the side of the airship, Emberglow was amazed at the looks on their faces. Most of the marines showed no fear, and even those who appeared nervous still followed their fellows off the side. Emberglow felt no fear, of course. Even for a pegasus who rarely flew, she had never really experienced a fear of heights or falling. Emberglow launched herself off the side of the airship when it was her turn, doing her best to emulate the liquid grace of the pegasus scouts. Even though she’d never flown this high before, the sensation of weightlessness, of air flowing over and under her body, was a familiar one.

Emberglow watched as one after another, white canvas parachutes opened up above the distant figures as they dropped towards the surface. Other indistinct figures slowed drastically as their wings spread, their trajectories shifting from steep dives to swooping arcs that cut under and through the earth ponies with parachutes.

Emberglow opened up her own wings, feeling the harsh winds of her fall cutting through her feathers as the wind resistance threatened to tear her apart. Her wings ached, but it was a momentary sensation as she pulled up out of her dive into a curve much like the other pegasi. She looked and saw Silverfeather, the Adamant pegasus, above her and to the north about thirty feet. Emberglow got a nod from the pegasus as the two of them split apart, swooping among the parachuting earth ponies to make sure nopony was having difficulties.

“Knights, shield spells!” she suddenly heard Brightblade cry in her ear, before he grunted with pain. Emberglow whipped her head about, trying to look at what Brightblade was worried about. She was just barely able to glimpse the bright whizzing missile shooting upwards through the air.

She moved on instinct, furling one wing while catching as much air in the other as possible, lurching to the side just in time to dodge the glowing red missile. It shot past her, exploding with a loud pop into a burst of bright, glowing red embers whizzing through the air.

“Fireworks?” Emberglow said out loud, though the noise was whipped away by the wind. There were bright explosions everywhere, green and orange and blue and red, leaving trails of smoke as they shot from the ground towards the parachuting ponies. Belatedly, she remembered what Brightblade had ordered, and lit up her gauntlet to cast a hasty shield spell. She could see the glowing trails as the various Knights, spread throughout the air, cast their own spells around themselves.

As soon as she finished casting her spell, Emberglow glanced to the ground below, trying to find the source of the fireworks being shot at them. She tried to gain her bearings as the shrill whistle as dozens more fireworks fired towards them. These ones didn’t explode with light and fire, however, but with clouds of black smoke. The nearest showered Emberglow with soot, blinding her in a sudden stinging burst of acrid smoke. She coughed and choked, flapping her wings unevenly as she tried to escape the cloud.

“They’re firing fireworks at us?” Brightblade said incredulously. He sounded confused, but Emberglow felt a dagger of horror slice into her chest, just as Brightblade’s voice dropped with terrified comprehension. “Oh, I see. Oh, Saints. The parachutes! A shield won’t help you if your parachute’s on fire!” His voice was panicked, and as Emberglow managed to escape the smoke cloud she could see at least five of the white canvas canopies already on fire. It wasn’t making the earth ponies underneath drop more quickly just yet, but it was only a matter of time. “Pegasi, note which parachutes are on fire. Be ready to catch anypony who drops. Saints protect us!”

It was too far away for Emberglow to identify which ponies were in trouble, but she could clearly make out several parachutes that were compromised by burns. The first one she glanced at had a few singed holes in it, but the chute itself wasn’t burning, so she dismissed it. The second had much larger holes and was dropping far too quickly, but she watched as a scout pegasus swooped down and took hold of the flailing earth pony, slowing his fall. Emberglow pumped her wings as hard as she could, dashing towards the third. The marine pony wasn’t dropping too quickly, but the terrified look on his face practically begged for rescue. She winged her way until she was dropping even with the marine.

“Help me!” he cried.

“Of course, marine, let me…” she shouted, reaching out to try and catch hold of his hooves.

She didn’t hear the whizzing noise until it was too late. Emberglow clenched her eyes shut just in time as her instincts kicked in. Even behind her eyelids she saw the bright explosion of yellow light, coupled with a loud, violent bang, followed by a ringing that muted out everything else Emberglow could hear. She felt the impact of the explosion on her shield and the wind as she was tossed wildly away by the pressure of the explosion. She opened her eyes as soon as she was able, righting herself from her careening spin as quickly as possible. She glanced over to where the marine still fell, her heart going cold.

The marine she’d been trying to help was now limp in his chute. There didn’t appear to be much more damage to the chute itself, but the pony was probably dead. The burns to his chest and face were severe, with major tissue damage. The magical shield Emberglow had protected her from the entirety of the explosion, but the marine had had none of that defense. She flew back over to the pony for a closer inspection, dreading, but already knowing what she would see.

He was not breathing. His one remaining eye was glassy and unfocused, his other a mass of charred flesh and blood. She swallowed a lump in her throat before she flapped away, looking about for other ponies she could help.

Another explosion boomed overhead. Emberglow glanced up and saw a single earth pony figure careening through the air, a ruined parachute trailing behind it. Many of the marines looked the same in their blue and gold uniforms, but there was only one pony with that blue coat and black mane.

“Not him,” Emberglow moaned, and once again pumped her slightly tired wings to dash after Gearsmith. He was tangled up in his parachute cords, and his chute had been burnt practically to cinders and rags. It was doing nothing whatsoever to arrest his downward fall.

Gearsmith wasn’t screaming or yelling as she approached, and Emberglow feared the worst until she grew close enough to see his panicked breathing, his chest pumping with each intake and exhale. She caught a glimpse of his terrified expression as she furled her wings, stretching her body into an aerodynamic pose so that she fell faster than him. Once she was below him, she extended her wings slightly to slow her fall. As Gearsmith's hooves made contact with her back, she heard him grunt in surprise.

“Hold on. Try not to interfere with my wings!” she shouted, spreading the feathery appendages to slow them. Suddenly Gearsmith’s entire weight was on her back, and she strained to keep them both in the air on tired wings. She knew it would be impossible to fly like this, but she was hoping for at least a controlled glide.

As soon as she spread her wings fully, however, she realized that control was wishful thinking. The winds buffeted her wings, and she felt them shaking and twitching as the strong gales threatened to push her into an uncontrolled spin.

Emberglow felt Gearsmith carefully reposition himself on her back, his hooves wrapping around her barrel tightly, but not enough to interfere with her flying, just as she had asked.

“How can I help?” he asked, his voice shaking with fear. She was sure he had noticed her own trembling, unsteady wings, and perhaps also the fact that they were still falling, albeit at a much slower rate than before.

“Try to hold still as much as possible,” Emberglow shouted back to him. “If we survive this landing it’s going to be rough. I’m sorry I’m not a stronger flier.”

“I was saying my last prayers for a good rebirth, and for Gadget’s wellbeing. I thought I was dead,” Gearsmith said. His voice trailed off, and Emberglow could barely hear him over the howling of the air in her ears.

“I guess we’ll try to roll when we land,” she shouted. She glanced around, looking for the hill that was supposed to be their landing zone. The wild flying, dodging fireworks and trying to swoop in to rescue ponies had taken Emberglow and Gearsmith at least a half mile to the north of the landmark, and the ground was quickly approaching.

“The best we’re going to manage is a rough landing,” Emberglow yelled. “I’ll try to aim for the softest patch of dirt or grass I can see.” She began looking for a likely spot, her gaze latching onto a likely meadow below. She did her best to angle her descent into a slow, downward spiral, trying to time it so that their inevitable crash would land them in the hopefully softer grass of the meadow, and not on the jagged, moss covered bricks that surrounded it.

“How many do you think we lost?” Gearsmith asked suddenly, and Emberglow knew who he was really thinking about.

“I don’t know. Brightblade has been silent since right around when the attacks started. Sorry, Gearsmith,” she replied, her voice straining at the effort it took to maintain even her shaky course. Gearsmith probably noted her growing fatigue, as he didn’t say anything more.

The ground was growing steadily nearer. Emberglow could make out the details of the grassy meadow, including some disturbing looking thorny bushes. Hoping that she had at least enough control to avoid those, she did her best to angle her wings to hit the grass rather than the thorns.

She managed to make it about fifteen feet above the meadow before her wings finally gave out. With a pained yelp, the two ponies tumbled the rest of the distance to the ground. Emberglow did her best to roll with the impact, but between the earth pony on her back, her saddlebags, her armor, and her spear in its sheath, it was a far less graceful impact than she could have hoped. Frankly, with the way her wings and legs got all tangled up in the remaining lines from Gearsmith’s parachute it was a miracle she didn’t break something.

Hurting all over, she did her best to rise quickly, coughing dust and dirt from the rough landing. She took a few seconds to check herself over, stretching each limb slowly to make sure nothing was sprained. She was sore, and there would be some nasty bruises, but all of her appendages seemed to be functioning.

“Lady Emberglow, are you okay?” Gearsmith said, rushing over as he extricated himself from his parachute. She was a little surprised that he had managed to get up faster than her. He was limping, favoring his right rear leg, and some of his fur was singed, as was the last few inches of his tail. There were rope burns on his front right leg, and Emberglow could see a jagged tear in the left side of the uniform on his barrel. It was slightly damp with blood.

“You’re wounded,” she said, reaching out to gently brush away his uniform to look at the wound. He hissed softly at the pain, but pushed her hoof away as soon when she raised her rune gauntlet to begin a healing spell.

“No. Save your motes, Lady Emberglow. There will be more deserving ponies soon, I’m sure. I’ll be fine with a bit of bandaging, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Emberglow said. “Keep an eye out for us while I patch you up, Gearsmith.”

“Yes ma’am,” the marine said. Emberglow unhooked her saddlebags, rooting around for her bandages and first aid. While Gearsmith stood, his gaze drifting vigilantly across the trees that surrounded their meadow, Emberglow tore away his ripped uniform from around the rope burn wound in his barrel.

He was right, the wound wasn’t dire. In his fall, one of the lines of his parachute had become wrapped around his barrel and had torn his uniform. The rope burn was just bad enough to have broken the skin, and blood oozed slowly from the wound. Emberglow did her best to clear away the dirt.

“There’s nothing to wash it with,” Emberglow complained to herself. “I’ll need to cast a spell anyways. Don’t worry, it doesn’t take much.”

“You’re the doctor, I suppose,” Gearsmith said. Emberglow cast a quick spell to disinfect the wound, and applied a large, flat compress to the wound before wrapping a bandage around the marine’s barrel. Gearsmith was a model patient, not complaining in the slightest, except for a sharp intake of breath when she placed the compress.

“Not too tight?” Emberglow asked as she tied off the bandage. Gearsmith shook his head stoically. “Good. We’ve got to head to the hill. That was supposed to be our landing zone. I imagine that’s where everypony else is going to congregate.” She picked up her spear. “Do you have a weapon?”

“No, ma'am. My big guns are in one of the supply drops we shoved off the airship. I can’t really operate them by myself anyways,” Gearsmith said. “But I’ve been trained in hoof to hoof combat. I’m not helpless in a fight, even without my guns.”

“Okay,” Emberglow said, trying to sound confident. Gearsmith nodded silently. It took Emberglow a few seconds to realize the veteran marine was waiting for her to issue orders, a fact that gave rise to a bubble of panic in her heart. She tamped it down ruthlessly. “Let’s head out. Stay close, and keep an eye out for whoever was shooting those fireworks at us.

“Yes ma’am,” Gearsmith said. He helped her put her saddlebags back on before they both set off. Emberglow took the lead, finding an opening in the bramble patches to the north. “Have you seen what happened to anypony else?”

“No,” Emberglow said. “We spread out too much.”

“How many do you think we lost?” he asked grimly.

Emberglow shook her head as she used her spear to push some vines out of their way. The forest was thick with undergrowth, and the dense canopy above them cut out much of the morning light. The forest was alive with the sounds of living things. Vines reached down from the trees like long, grasping fingers. The air was damp and misty, and Emberglow felt a distinct sense of not belonging, almost as if the forest had a mind of its own, and it did not want her there. She silently chided herself for her silly superstitious thoughts, but that didn’t stop the fur from standing on end on the back of her neck.

She shook her head again, this time to try and clear her thoughts. She brushed some of her red mane out of her face, an errant strand that had escaped her ponytail in all the adventure, before remembering that Gearsmith had asked a question.

“Don’t think like that, soldier,” she said softly. “I’m sure Gadget’s just fine.”

“Did you see her as we were falling?” Gearsmith asked. Emberglow shook her head.

“No, I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean anything. I only saw a few falling, most still had working parachutes from what I could see. I…” she trailed off, thinking of the first marine she’d tried to save. “I couldn’t catch the first one I tried to save, Gearsmith.”

“Do you know who it was?” he asked. Emberglow shook her head.

“One of the ponies from Fire Team Corona. I don’t remember his name,” Emberglow admitted, and her stomach roiled with guilt at the admission. Surely she should remember all the names of the ponies whose lives she was responsible for, right? She tried to not let the poisonous shame and uncertainty slip into her voice. “How’s your wound?”

“Hurts to walk, but not too bad,” Gearsmith said honestly. Emberglow nodded, noting silently to herself that she’d have to keep a close eye on his gait, to make sure it didn’t get worse.

The vines were thick enough that a sword or a machete would have been handy, so each yard of progress took far too long for her tastes. At this rate, it would take two or three hours just to cover a mile.

“Oh, bless the Saints,” Emberglow moaned gratefully as she stepped into a dry stream bed. The bottom was damp and muddy, but there was no water flowing down it. It led uphill, slightly to the northeast.

“What?” Gearsmith asked.

“Dry stream bed. Probably from rain or snow runoff. We’ll follow it for a bit, hopefully it will stay moving in the right direction. The ground’s a bit moist, but it should be easier going than hacking through all these vines.”

The stream bed turned out to be a gift from the Saints. The mud clung wetly to their hooves, and the cold moisture sunk into their fur and leg muscles, but the progress was much quicker. Though the stream meandered back and forth through the forest, it generally stayed on a northern course, moving gently uphill hopefully towards Central Hill. Over time, though, the dampness and slickness of the mud grew, until the two ponies were actually walking through a trickle of icy, brackish water. It wasn’t moving very quickly. Emberglow and Gearsmith did their best to avoid the most of the water, but soon they were shivering with cold.

“We might need to—“ Emberglow began, then stopped. There were noises up ahead. Splashing and cries. “You hear that?” Emberglow asked, holding out a hoof to stop Gearsmith.

“Yeah. Somepony’s shouting.”

“Let’s go,” Emberglow said, breaking into a canter, the cold numbness seeping into her hooves and up her legs no longer a pressing issue on her mind. As they ran, the dry streambed widened into a muddy frothing pond. Brownish algae-saturated water filled a small recess in the hill, surrounded by moss covered stones and rotting trees. The limbs of the trees reached out over the icy pond.

A pony dangled by her parachute straps over the pond from one of the longer limbs. It was Sergeant Arrow. She seemed uninjured, but she wasn’t the only figure near the pond. There were two other ponies, and a monster out of some nightmare.

The monster was easily ten times the size of a pony. It was superficially similar in appearance to a frog, with mottled dark green rubbery flesh, dripping with pond water, and a long, wide mouth. Its hind legs were bent like a frog’s, thick with bulging muscle. That was where the similarities ended, however. Its eyes were attached to its head above its mouth by fleshy stalks, nearly a hoof’s length tall, and there were three of them. Instead of forelimbs, it had six tentacles, three springing from each side of its bulky torso.

One of the ponies was limp, his wings splayed out at odd angles, his body weakly twitching as he lay on the shore of the pond. It was Cliffjumper, the pegasus medic. He was breathing, but his eyes were closed. The second pony was Gadget, muddy and bruised, standing ankle deep in the pond water. Emberglow tried to ignore how her heart leapt to see her friend safe and on her hooves, at least for now. She held a gnarled piece of wood, shaking it about menacingly like a spear to ward off the creature that was trying to eat all three of them.

The creature whipped the snakelike appendages back and forth, trying to seize either Gadget or one of the helpless ponies. One was snaked around Arrow’s left hind hoof, but the very parachute straps that kept the sergeant trapped dangling under the tree limb also kept her from being dragged into the waiting maw of the frog monstrosity.

“Go around the pond, help your daughter,” Emberglow ordered, her voice a low whisper. She didn’t even look to see if Gearsmith acknowledged the order; he would have gone straight for Gadget even if she hadn’t said anything.

Focusing her sights on the creature, she tightened her hold on her spear and leapt into the air, her wing muscles aching in protest at their use so soon after her earlier crash. She flew across the pond in a mad dash, holding her spear out in front of her like a lance, aimed at the creature.

Emberglow spared a glance at her friend just in time to see Gadget’s look of desperation flash into an elated grin as the young mechanic caught sight of the Knight Radiant. She didn’t have time to say anything before she reached her target, folding her wings into a dive just behind and above the monster, her spear braced in front of her for a stab fueled by mass and momentum.

The frog monster’s central eye must have caught some sign of movement, because it swiveled just in time to see the Knight dropping onto it from above. The creature lurched forward to dodge the diving pegasus, but Emberglow’s spear found its mark in the monster’s thick, rubbery flesh. Rather than impaling the monster through its head, like Emberglow had hoped, the spear tip impacted the flesh, then dug a deep furrow through the monster’s muscular back before the creature jerked and shoved the spear away. Emberglow groaned in frustration as she flapped her wings, pulling up just as her hooves skimmed the surface of the pond.

The monster was quick to spin around to face this new threat, whipping its tentacles into a broad swing that moved almost faster than Emberglow could react. All three of the appendages from one side of the frog impacted Emberglow’s side, and she only had a half second to brace herself for the blow. Emberglow’s armor absorbed most of the attack, but the momentum of the strike knocked her out of the air and into the shallow water nearer the shore. More cold water seeped into her gambeson, spreading numb wetness through her limbs.

Her bruised body ached and screamed for her to stay down, but it wasn’t an option. She had to get up. Had to distract the thing, so the others could get free. She silently thanked the Saints that she had held onto her spear when the monster had flung her. She stood up and braced her weapon, ready for the monster to charge her.

The creature had other plans, however. Rather than an enraged charge, the frog swung with its other tentacle set, using them like a club to batter at the Knight. Emberglow dodged to the side as the limbs descended from above her to splash violently into the water. Brackish filth sprayed in her face, and all over her armor. As Emberglow tried to clear her vision from the water, the monster struck again in the same way, three tentacles swinging from above. She dodged again, and the creature began to strike rapidly, alternating limbs in huge, battering ram blows that tossed up icy water and mud everywhere. Emberglow tried desperately to back away, drawing him further from the wounded and trapped marines, but it was all she could do to keep dodging the strikes.

She spared a glance for the two standing marines. Gearsmith and Gadget were quietly circling around the back of the creature, looking for a chance to strike at it, and her heart filled with cold dread.

“Get the sergeant free!” Emberglow shrieked desperately. She had managed to hit the frog once, and it had barely slowed it down. She knew they had little chance of defeating or killing it. The two marines paused, then rushed back towards their sergeant. “Get the pegasus out of the way too! Further into the woods!” She really hoped the monster didn’t speak their language.

Fortunately the monster didn’t turn from Emberglow when she shouted out her orders. Unfortunately, the monster did take advantage of the Knight’s moment of distraction to launch a vicious double-limbed attack, swiping diagonally down in a ‘V’ shape towards her. Emberglow raised her spear to parry the strike, but the monster surged forward. The tentacles impacted the spear about halfway down their length, and the monster used its weight and leverage to press down against Emberglow, driving her into the mud. The slimy, narrow tips of the tentacles snaked back around behind her, and before she realized what had happened two of them had seized her back legs. With a quick yank, Emberglow was upended hind first into the air, her face splashing down into the mud.

The monster wasted no time disorienting its prey, spinning Emberglow around in midair while she coughed and sputtered. Two more tentacles wrapped around her barrel, trying to immobilize her wings, while another tried to strangle her. She whipped her head around, doing her best to avoid the limb attempting to choke out her air. She was struggling just enough that the frog’s tentacles couldn’t get a good grip around her neck, so the creature tried a different tactic. Opening its wide maw, Emberglow saw hundreds of sharp, brown stained teeth and a writhing tongue. The tongue, much thicker and shorter than the frog’s tentacles, oozed with some sort of sticky slime.

Before she could do anything, the tongue shot out and stuck to her armor’s peytral, and Emberglow screamed in disgust and fear. The tongue was nearly as thick across as her neck, and it stuck to the metal plate like glue. Even though her front hooves were not stuck by the tentacles, she didn’t have enough time to try to loosen the armor piece before the mutant frog jerked her into its maw and bit down hard. Emberglow flinched, waiting for the crushing pain as the creature’s pointed brown teeth ground and clenched against the armor on her barrel and flanks. The tentacle that had been trying to strangle her was now shoving against her helmet and face, trying to shove her head into the frog’s mouth as well.

The air was full of screeching sounds as tooth ground against metal. Sharp, stinging pain stabbed into Emberglow’s flank as one tooth found the smallest of cracks in her armor, but mostly her armor kept her safe, for now. Squirming around as much as she could, she tried to beat at the creature’s face with the haft and blade of her spear. The weapon bounced off the monster’s nose as its eyestalks thrashed about, dodging the clumsy attack.

“Emberglow!” Gadget shouted from shore. The frog was facing away from the other ponies, so Emberglow couldn’t see what they were doing.

“Just get the sergeant and the medic to safety!” Emberglow shouted. “Go!” Her attempts to wiggle free were pointless, so she tried to stab at the frog’s eyes. The disgusting orbs were far too dexterous to hit with the tip of her spear, however, and the creature finally got the idea to try and immobilize the spear itself. The tentacle began wrapping around the haft of her spear, and she knew that if her weapon was out of the picture, she was dead.

With a sudden flash of inspiration, Emberglow spun the spear so that the tip was facing not the creature, but her own chest. With all the force she could muster for the awkward strike, she thrust the spear into the soft tissue of the creature’s tongue.

The monster shook violently, a low warble of pain and distress squeezing from its throat. Brownish red sludge seeped from the wound in its tongue, and it jerked and twisted to try and dislodge the weapon or retract its stuck tongue. Its jaws clenched down harder, now apparently trying to simply crush Emberglow between its muscled jaws. She felt the few teeth that had managed to slip into seams in her armor stabbing deeper into her flanks, sending a burning knife of pain into her hind end.

“Didn’t like that, did you?” she muttered, pulling out the spear, its tip now covered with the foul blood of the frog monster. “Your skin’s hard, but not your mouth? Maybe you shouldn’t have put me inside it then.” Just barely, a glimmering flame of hope lit in her mind. Maybe she’d survive this after all.

“Lady Rainbow, please,” she prayed simply as she angled the spear deeper inside the thing’s mouth. Maybe it would like a strike to the soft palate even less than it had a wound in its tongue. There wasn’t much room for her to move to gain leverage, but she did her best to maneuver her free hooves enough to ram the weapon into the top of the frog’s mouth. She couldn’t see, but rather felt the tip of the weapon meet resistance, then slip further in.

This time the creature shrieked with rage, thrashing its maw back and forth with pain and fury. Emberglow was rather suddenly flung from the monster’s maw by her trapped hind legs. Her spear, lodged in the creature’s mouth, was wrenched from her hooves as she tumbled through the air far too quickly to right herself. With a solid thwack and the crack of splitting wood she crashed into one of the trees on the shore stomach first, knocking the wind out of her as she flopped to the ground.

The first sound Emberglow heard as she regained her senses was stomping hooves and indistinct shouting. She was face down in the sandy soil, and felt hooves along her sides and barrel lifting her up, trying to get her to her hooves. Shaking, with pain still burning in her flank, she let the ponies near her help her up.

“Run,” she managed, blinking, as she took in the two ponies around either side. It was Gadget and Sergeant Arrow, holding her up on either side. “Get out of here.”

“Not without you, Lady Emberglow,” the sergeant said. “C’mon, we’ll help you run. Gearsmith has the medic. Let’s go before that Saints-damned monster stops chewing on your spear.”

Bolstered on either side by the two mares, Emberglow took the first few faltering steps into the relative safety of the dense forest. Her front legs were sore but functional, though her hind legs were slowly growing numb. This was a bad sign, but now was not the time to worry about it. She stumbled a few times, but was held up by the mares on either side of her. Progress was slow through the foliage, but from the enraged sounds of the creature behind them, the closely growing trees were clearly more of an inconvenience to the frog creature than they were to the ponies.

By the time Emberglow couldn’t hear the frog monster any longer, she was freezing, in agony all over, and barely conscious. A cold sort of sting was spreading from her wounded flank through the rest of her body. Before she slipped away, she had just enough presence of mind to mutter out a warning.

“I think... poisonous…”

Chapter 18

Official Report, written by Captain Stormsfoal of Irrepressible

Sir Steadfast,

I dropped the package off at the delivery address. Some trouble, casualties confirmed, but mission proceeding as planned. Contact will be limited.

Area is heavily infested with termites, and my ship’s wood. Don’t recommend extraction via airship.

Will be back home in five days for a more complete report.

Captain Stormsfoal

1112 AF, Ruins of Manehatten

Emberglow woke in a tent. She couldn’t see because it was too dark, but the smell of military canvas, of dust and sweat and gunpowder, was unmistakable. She was on her stomach, her limbs spread out on a padded bedroll, and there was a wet spot near her muzzle that she realized, with embarrassment, was drool. She lifted a hoof to wipe her mouth, wincing at the stiff muscle ache that came with the motion. She looked around slowly, letting her eyes become accustomed to the darkness.

It was a two pony tent, smaller and more cramped than the ones back at the outpost, but with a similar triangular style. There was no room for cots, so the bedrolls had been placed right on the packed dirt. Emberglow could see her saddlebags close by, as well as the pieces of her armor stacked on the empty bedroll in the tent. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked like somepony had taken the time to clean and polish her armor after her involuntary mud bath earlier. Her gambeson was clean as well, folded next to her armor.

She felt her face heating with embarrassment as she realized that meant somepony had undressed her. Instinctively, she tried to lurch to her feet to dress herself, but remaining stiffness and bandages on her flank tripped her up and she slumped back into the bedroll with a hiss of pain.

There was a sudden flood of light into the tent as the flap was pulled aside. Emberglow clumsily shielded her eyes with one hoof, which brought a chuckle from the pony who’d entered her tent.

“Sorry, didn’t know you were awake,” came Medic Sea Star’s gentle voice. “Lady Bitterroot will be pleased. She asked me to come check on you and your bandages, but neither of us expected you to be awake so soon.”

“Where am I?” Emberglow asked.

“We’re calling it Camp Hilltop. Not very creative, I know, cuz it’s a camp… on top of a hill…” Sea Star laughed, though it was strained. She pulled back the sheet that had been covering Emberglow, revealing her wounded and bandaged hindquarters. Her motions were routine and clinical, and Emberglow felt only a token embarrassment at being nude in front of another pony. Sea Star was a professional, after all. “Central Hill, specifically. We may have lost some ponies in the descent, but we’re camped in our planned LZ and Lady Joyful Sound has set up her equipment.”

“How many casualties?” Emberglow asked, and watched the medic flinch as she began to unwrap the bandage.

“Too many,” Sea Star muttered. “Only one Knight, though. Sir Redmane’s body was found only about fifty yards from the LZ, with a destroyed chute. Four marines are dead for sure, and seven more are missing. Sir Brightblade wanted the scouts to go look for the missing, but…”

“But what?” Emberglow asked, still reeling from the horrific tally.

“We’re under siege here. Sir Brightblade and Sir Delver managed to put up a shield around the camp to protect us from the mortars, but every so often heretic unicorns out there in the ruins will fire something at us. They’ve got other firearms as well. We’re penned in. We’ve dug trenches in case the shield falls, but we’re low on supplies. Our supply drops were the first things the heretics on the ground targeted.”

“Okay,” Emberglow said slowly. The medic finished removing the bandage and Emberglow saw, for the first time, her own wounded flank. There were four jagged puncture wounds, each one nearly an inch apart, just below her cutie mark on her right rear leg. It was clear she’d benefited from healing magic; they looked like wounds that had been healing for weeks. Suddenly she remembered the cold, numbing sensation of the monster’s poison. “I was poisoned! The creature that bit me, I’m sure it was…”

“Calm down, Lady Emberglow. Standing orders from Lady Bitterroot. Everypony who was bitten or stung or clawed by whatever critters are out there gets checked out by somepony who can magically heal poison. She casts the spells herself. How do you feel now?”

“Stiff. Hurting. I could probably get to work and do something useful. How many other wounded are there to tend to?”

“Nopony as badly as you, thankfully, though we are short hooved. There’s no other cases that need regular tending like you did, thankfully. The rest of the wounded are up and moving. Cliffjumper didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said sadly. She hadn’t known the pegasus medic for long, but it stung to realize somepony under her command was now gone. She remembered the last time she’d seen him, he’d been alive but wounded on the shore of the muddy pond. Sea Star pulled a tube of antibiotic ointment from her own saddlebags and rubbed a bit onto the puncture wounds before wrapping a fresh bandage.

“Everypony will be glad you’re up and about though, Lady Emberglow,” Sea Star said, injecting her voice with as much cheer as she could manage. Emberglow could tell it was a bit forced. “Your wound looks clean, Lady Bitterroot’s spell worked just fine. The wounds look like they’ve been healing for a month or more, which is exactly what the Lady told me to expect. Is there any pain?”

Emberglow stretched her hind legs cautiously, twisting this way and that, feeling the stretch of the skin and fur around the wound. There was a bit of tightness, and a little soreness, but no real pain.

“Not really, no,” Emberglow said. When Sea Star raised her eyebrows, Emberglow laughed softly. She knew that look; she’d used it on some stubborn patients in the past. “Truly. I’m fine. There’s some soreness and tightness, but I feel like my leg has full range of motion.”

“Good. Don’t strain yourself, if you can help it,” Sea Star said. Emberglow laughed again, and the medic quirked her head inquisitively.

“Sorry, it’s just funny to be on the other side of this conversation,” Emberglow said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good patient.”

“Funny you say that,” Sea Star said with a smirk. “Other medics sometimes make the worst patients.”

“I’ll do my best to subvert those expectations,” Emberglow said wryly. “Now, may I get dressed, medic? I’d like to see the camp.”

“You’re cleared to get out of bed, Lady Emberglow. Just…” The medic took a deep breath, glancing back at the tent flap. “Don’t get your expectations up about the camp. There’s not much to see. When you’re ready, Lady Bitterroot would like to see you. She’ll be in the command tent, the big one in the middle of camp.” With that, Sea Star slipped out of the tent, leaving Emberglow with some privacy to assemble and don her armor.

It had been impossible for Emberglow to miss the dejected note in Sea Star’s tone. She supposed that, in the absence of a Knight Jubilant, the two Radiants were going to be responsible for camp morale, which meant this was the sort of thing she’d have to pay attention to. She decided to see for herself what was happening in the camp before she asked any questions, however. Standing up with a careful stretch of her limbs, she trotted over to put on her armor.

Though it was clear somepony had cleaned and polished her armor, Emberglow was still a bit unsettled by the row of dents in the flanchard, complete with scratched paint. The dents had been beaten out so that the armor fit the same, but Emberglow couldn’t shake the feeling of the protective metal closing in, squeezing in on her flanks. With an amused snort at her overactive imagination, she finished tightening the straps and buckles on her armor.

When Emberglow pushed aside the tent flap, she was assaulted by the bright light of midmorning. She had lost track of time after she had dropped unconscious, but it looked like she’d been out of it for just under a day. It had been just about noon when she’d fought the frog monster, and she’d passed out shortly after that. She had to take a moment to readjust to the light before she could look around.

The camp was perched on top of a wide hill, devoid of most foliage except for scrub grass and bushes. The soil was littered with stones the size of apples, most of which appeared to be the remains of bricks shed from nearby ruined buildings. A narrow trench, capped on the outside by a built-up earthwork, ringed the outside of the camp and faced down the hill towards the surrounding trees. Emberglow could barely make out the signs of a large domed magical shield, glowing with faint purple energy, just touching the edges of the camp outside the earthworks. Scattered about inside the camp were a collection of tents, the largest of which had been dug partially into the ground and covered with dirt and sod as camouflage. Several marines were busy doing the same for the tents, one at a time, digging out foxholes in the earth to make them as safe as possible from oncoming projectiles and magical beams. The whole thing gave the camp an air of short-term permanence that made Emberglow nervous. Everything she’d seen about Manehatten suggested they didn’t really want to stay in one place for long.

Outside the camp, the hill sloped down steeply until it reached a line of trees. The transition was abrupt, as if some giant had drawn a line between hill and forest with a thick crayon. Emberglow knew personally just how thick that foliage was; she’d struggled through it herself for a while. She knew there were heretics and mutants out there, somewhere, and with the undergrowth as thick as it was, it would be easy for them to grow close and fire on the camp without being seen. The camp was high, and easily defended, but it would also be difficult to attack from. That was probably what Brightblade had in mind; they needed time, after all, to set up and use Joyful Sound’s detection equipment and find the anomaly that had sent them here in the first place. There was only one real break in the thick forest: a single strip of beaten dirt, like the remains of a path, leading up the hill.

The camp was full of noise, but it was a subdued and somber noise, unlike the frequently cheerful cacophony that had often filled the Outpost they’d just left. Emberglow took a moment to look at the faces of the Marines working in camp. Most were digging foxholes, but there were some patrolling in the trench along the earthworks. Their faces were set and serious, businesslike with little hint of joy or cheer. It made her nervous, knowing she was responsible for keeping these ponies’ morale up. Several did seem to brighten as they saw her out of her tent, and a few waved.

“I can show you to the command tent, if you want,” Sea Star said to Emberglow’s right. Emberglow nodded, even though she had already picked it out as the largest tent.

“Everypony seems down,” Emberglow commented softly. Sea Star said nothing, but her mouth tightened. “Is it just because of our losses?”

“Not my place to say,” the medic said after a long pause. Emberglow shrugged. The two of them reached the command tent, where the two ponies could hear three voices, whispering intensely in an argument. Emberglow descended the narrow earthen ramp into the recessed tent. She pushed the camouflaged tent flap aside and stepped into the dark interior. The whispered conversation immediately paused as soon as Emberglow entered the tent.

Inside, Brightblade, Delver, and Bitterroot sat around a low table, sat with a crudely drawn map. All three showed evidence of small minor wounds; Delver had a bandage around his right front hoof, Bitterroot’s face and neck were covered with scrapes and nicks, and Brightblade was missing over half of his right ear. Emberglow suddenly realized that this might have something to do with Brightblade’s communication spell going silent. If something had torn off his ear, the enchantment would have unbound from the ear clip. Joyful Sound sat in the corner of the tent, quietly poised with a notepad and quill to take notes. Next to her was a strange apparatus that Emberglow had never seen before.

It almost looked like a transmitter of some sort, with a curved disk that surrounded a focusing crystal.

“Emberglow! You’re awake! Great!” Bitterroot said cheerfully, and Delver grinned and raised a hoof in salute. Brightblade simply nodded impatiently.

“Wonderful, she’s awake. Now, if we could just…” the Knight Mystic began, but Bitterroot cut him off.

“Just a moment please,” she said. “I’d like a second to make sure my patient is okay.” The old veteran gave Emberglow a wink as Brightblade glowered. “Wound healing okay? Any aftereffects of the poison?”

“No ma’am, your spell work did the trick. I feel great. Thank you,” Emberglow said.

“We done?” Brightblade interrupted. “If it’s okay with you ladies, I’d like to get back to our meeting. Emberglow, I’m glad you’re up,” he said, sounding nothing of the sort. “Feel free to…”

He cut off when a loud explosion shook the ground. Everypony paused except Emberglow, who jumped with a startled yelp. They held their silence for a brief moment, and then when no other explosions followed they all glanced at Emberglow. Bitterroot was smirking.

“What was that?” Emberglow asked, confused at the non-reaction of the other Knights in the tent. Joyful Sound hadn’t even looked up from the notes she was glancing at.

“Another mortar attack,” Bitterroot said.

“Mortars?” Emberglow asked.

“There’s ponies out there in the forest firing at us,” Brightblade said. “Hence the shield. We’re safe for now, but we’re looking for a way to strike out at them and stop the attacks. But for now, your presence isn’t required, Lady Emberglow. Feel free to get some food and check in with your medics.”

Dismissed, Emberglow nodded and turned to leave the tent, nearly colliding with the scout sergeant as the pegasus rushed into the tent.

“Sir! There’s a pony on the path watching the camp, right at the tree line!” the mare reported hurriedly, not even taking time to salute.

“Another one of ours?” Brightblade asked. The pegasus sergeant shook her head.

“No sir. A unicorn. He’s wearing yellow armor. And carrying a white cloth tied to a stick.”

Every pony in the tent perked up at that. Brightblade walked over to address the scout.

“Did he say anything?” he asked urgently. The scout nodded.

“He shouted. He said he wanted to speak with somepony who’s in charge, and that if somepony comes to talk to him the mortar attacks will pause.”

“Thank you, marine. You’re dismissed,” Brightblade said. He glanced at Emberglow. “You too, Emberglow and Joy. We’ve got something to discuss.” He motioned to Bitterroot and Delver. Bitterroot shrugged, and Delver looked a little embarrassed. Emberglow turned to follow after the scout.

“Where is he?” she asked the pegasus sergeant. “I might as well get a look.”

“This way, Lady Emberglow,” the sergeant said. She wasn’t the only pony who was curious. There were a dozen marines in the trench, watching over the earthworks down the hill at the lone figure, standing just where the trees met the hill. The marines saw Emberglow approach and made way at the barrier. There was only one other Knight there watching, Lady Gem Redmane, never took her eyes off the heretic. Emberglow squeezed up next to her.

“Hey,” the Adamant said softly, though she didn’t glance up. “Glad you’re awake.”

“I heard about your brother,” Emberglow said. “I’m so sorry.” Gem simply grunted.

“That’s the bastard that killed my brother,” the Adamant said. “I know, he may not have been the one to do it himself, but if he’s here, he’s the one that gave the order. I’m gonna rip his horn off myself and cram it into his eye sockets. One at a time. Slowly.” Her voice was calm and measured, but her eyes were full of tears. Emberglow hurt for her compatriot, but the utter hatred in her voice was a bit unsettling. “Why is he here?”

The unicorn in question looked as if he were standing casually in the middle of a normal city street, or a pastoral field, rather than a ruined path in one of the most dangerous areas in the entire Diarchy. He glanced around uninterestedly, not staring at the camp above him. In one hoof he held a long spear, with a white cloth tied just under the blade. Just as the scout had said, he was wearing yellow armor with the cutie mark of Saint Fluttershy painted on the flank. While most of his body was covered with armor, Emberglow could see his brown fur and slate grey mane poking through the armor. He even wore a beard, a grey goatee that jutted from the bottom of his chin like a twirling tuft of smoke.

The marines were silent, watching the heretic from their vantage point with the Knights. Each and every one had a weapon at the ready, mostly rifles. Gem held a spear at the ready. Emberglow felt oddly naked without a weapon. Her hooves itched for action, to bridge the distance and take the fight to the heretic himself. This was the creature that was responsible for so much mayhem and death. A deep anger began to boil within her, and she glared at the heretic pony.

She wasn’t the only one to feel unsettled at the distant figure. There was an urgent tenseness in his motions that all the nearby ponies seemed to share. It was something Emberglow fully understood. She’d fought unicorns and infidels before, but this was the first time she’d ever laid eyes on one of the infamous Knights Discordant. It was disconcerting how little he seemed to care about them.

Nopony was willing to say much of anything while they sat and watched the unconcerned heretic Knight. After a few minutes, Brightblade approached the trench.

“Make way, please,” the Mystic said. The two Knight mares parted to make space for him at the earthen barrier. Brightblade’s rune quill glowed brightly as he cast the loudspeaker spell.

“Heretic! You wished to speak with the commander of this camp? I am here!” he called out to the figure down below. The heretic’s horn glowed with a golden yellow light. Everypony at the barrier tensed nervously, but the spell he cast wasn’t an attack or a beam of deadly light. It simply made his throat glow, much like Brightblade’s loudspeaker spell.

“Yup! That’s great, I’m glad you could make it,” the heretic said, his voice magically amplified over the camp. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“What do we have to talk about, creature?” Brightblade replied. He kept his voice calm, but his tail was thrashing with agitation. Somepony behind them cleared their throat gently. Emberglow looked back, and Tumbleweed was there, holding out a spear for Emberglow. She took it with a nod of gratitude.

“So, straight to business? No pleasantries?” the heretic tittered in an odd, singsong voice. “Very well, if you want to play it that way. I want to talk about peace. A truce. Non-aggression. Voluntary cessation of hostilities, et cetera et cetera.”

“Why?” Brightblade asked simply, after a moment’s pause.

“Well, that’s what we have to chat about, hm?” the Knight Discordant replied. “If you’re amenable, meet me right here in one hour, under this flag of truce.” He upended his spear and drove it into the ground, nearly a foot deep. “I give my oath on blessed Fluttershy’s name that no harm will come to you and yours while we hold our talk. Bring as many as three ponies, we’ll do the same. We promise to stop our mortars, but we will fire on any that try to sneak off into the ruins during the hour. That includes pegasi.”

Emberglow could feel the tenseness in the Knight Mystic as he considered the heretic’s offer. She might not like Brightblade, but she felt a great deal of pity for the decision he had to make now. His face was firm as he stared down at the heretic, but he was practically trembling.

“I’ll think about it. If I’m not there in an hour, assume we refused your generous offer,” Brightblade called back. The heretic merely waved, before turning around casually and trotting back to disappear in the tree line.

“What’s his angle?” Delver asked from behind them. He had approached while all of their attention was on the heretic, and Sir Brightblade.

“I don’t know. He can’t seriously want a truce, can he?” Brightblade mused. “He wants something from us.”

“It could also be a ruse,” Delver said. “A trick to peel off three or four of us and seriously weaken our forces?” Brightblade opened his mouth to respond, then looked around at the crowd of marines that were gathered, listening to the conversation.

“You are all dismissed. Go back to your duties, to your watches. I’ll let everypony know what’s going on as soon as I’ve had a little chat with Delver and Bitterroot.” He motioned for Delver to follow him, and returned to the command tent, where Emberglow assumed Bitterroot was still waiting. The two stallions closed the tent flap behind them. Emberglow almost expected the camp to erupt in gossipy whispers and murmurs at the news, but it was a testament to the military discipline of the crowd that ponies simply returned to what they were doing, with only a few speculative glances back at the command tent.

Lacking any sort of official orders herself, Emberglow decided to briefly tour the camp, trying to look at each of the ponies and gauge the general mood of the soldiers and Knights. On the way past, she glanced at the ‘mess tent’, really a simple cooking fire tended by one of the marines of Fire Team Corona. Gadget and Gearsmith were sitting with a few other marines, eating near the cooking fire. The blue-furred mare waved at Emberglow, invitation clear in her eyes, but Emberglow shook her head with a smile. That wasn’t something she wanted to deal with quite yet. Gadget smiled back, and Emberglow continued her tour of the camp.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes before Brightblade’s magically empowered shout came from the command tent.

“Emberglow, Gem, Joy, please report to the command tent,” he called out. Inside the three senior Knights were gathered, looking upset. Bitterroot in particular appeared particularly annoyed.

“We’ve decided to go to this heretic’s little meeting,” Brightblade said, and Bitterroot snorted. “It may be a trap. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. If we’re smart about this, we have a great deal to gain from this little meeting. I’d like the chance to see our enemy close up. We may even learn a bit about what they’re up to here. Maybe even figure out how they knew when we’d be dropping in.”

“Yes, but…” Bitterroot tried to interject, but Brightblade held up a hoof.

“I’ll be going, of course. It wouldn’t be appropriate to send another into such danger if I’m not willing to go myself,” he said. Emberglow saw Bitterroot roll her eyes. “Delver will be accompanying us as well, and Emberglow.”

Emberglow couldn’t help but stare in shock, while both Delver and Bitterroot let their disapproval show on their faces. It didn’t make much sense. Why her? Why not Bitterroot?

“I’m going to need both of you to stay silent, listen, and observe,” Brightblade said, ignoring the scowls and surprised looks from the other Knights. “Delver, your experience in combat and your knowledge of tactics will come in handy. We’ll go fully armed and armored, and cast shield spells before we go. These are my orders. Be ready to go in a half hour. The rest of you, assemble the marines and be ready for anything. Joy, I’ll need you to keep up with the motic seismograph. The sooner we’re able to more accurately pinpoint the location of our anomaly, the sooner we’ll be able to make a plan to check it out.”

With that, he walked out of the command tent, brushing past the Knights who were staring at him with a range of stunned or angry expressions. Bitterroot made eye contact with Emberglow, jerking her head to the side to indicate a request for a private conversation. As the ponies exited the tent, Emberglow and Bitterroot trotted off to one side, alone.

“What’s going on?” Emberglow said in hushed tones to the older Radiant, her ears pulled back as she leaned in for secrecy. “Why me?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Bitterroot said, her voice also low. “You musta really done something to piss him off, cuz our Brightblade is seriously angry at you. And not just because you stood up to him back at the outpost.”

“Is that why you seemed annoyed before the meeting started?” she asked.

Bitterroot scoffed. “Yes. I don’t get it. It should be me at the meeting, not you.”

“I think… he thinks I’m some sort of spy. Like this is all my fault, somehow. Being attacked in midair, the first ship being attacked, all of it. I think he wants to keep an eye on me.”

“What? That makes no sense! Why?” Bitterroot nearly cried out in shock. Emberglow looked around nervously, shushing the other Knight. With whispered tones she told the veteran the whole story, about her mission to Port Luminescence, Bubblegum’s treason and sin, her brief interrogation and even the deal Delver had made to get the marines out of investigation. Bitterroot listened politely, waiting to comment until the end.

“Saints-damned Mystic paranoia. You think he wants you at this meeting just to keep an eye on ya?” Bitterroot asked rhetorically. She didn’t wait for Emberglow to answer. “Don’t you worry though, this’ll all pass before too long. He’ll eventually figure out that he’s wasting his time and effort worrying about you. In the meantime though, you gonna be okay going to meet with the big bad heretic and his evil buddies?”

“I’ll be fine, I think,” Emberglow said.

“Yeah you will,” Bitterroot said. “Lady Rarity will watch out for you.”

“Thanks, Bitterroot,” Emberglow said.

When it was time for the meeting, Emberglow, Brightblade, and Delver stood at the edge of the camp, just in the trench behind the earthworks. The heretic already stood behind the spear he had thrust into the ground, joined by only a single companion. It was a griffon in polished silver armor, complete with fearsome looking claw guards and a full helmet that covered his avian face.

“Only two?” Brightblade hissed. “He said to bring three. Why put himself at a disadvantage?”

“It’s a power move,” Delver whispered back. “He’s basically announcing how little he’s intimidated by us.” Brightblade grunted, then huffed with annoyance.

“We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

All three Knights were fully armored, with spears in sheathes on their armor. Brightblade had ensured that all three of them had full spell batteries in their gauntlets, and they had cast shield spells before leaving the relative safety of their camp. The three of them stepped out together, with Brightblade in the lead and Delver and Emberglow following.

For a moment, Emberglow glanced at the sky, expecting it to rain fire and chaos on them at any second. Nothing came, and she was a little surprised that the heretic had kept his word.

“Project confidence and fearlessness,” Brightblade said to them, sotto voce. “Give them nothing. Say nothing. I will speak for all of us.”

“Yes sir,” Delver said. Emberglow just nodded.

The three ponies took their time trotting down the hill until they reached the spear. The heretic and the griffon stood side by side. The griffon was still as a statue, barely moving except for his eyes, which remained locked on the three approaching. The heretic was less still, gently stroking at his wispy goatee with one hoof and a mysterious smirk on his face. There was another oddity to his appearance; his eyes were different colors. One was bright yellow, while the other was a deep, angry red. Emberglow wondered what it meant; heterochromia wasn’t genetic in ponies, it only ever came about because of accident or injury. It wasn’t something she had much time to be curious about, however. Brightblade opened his mouth to speak, but the heretic preempted him.

“I’m so glad you decided to show up. Nice to meetchya!” He held out a hoof to shake. Brightblade stared at him. The heretic held his hoof out awkwardly for a few seconds, before shrugging and placing it back in the dirt. “Okay then. So here’s the deal. You all have to go.”

“We have to go?” Brightblade repeated dangerously. The heretic tittered, his voice oddly musical.

“Yeah. You all have to go. As soon as possible. You see, this here”—he waved a hoof around, taking in the earth, the hill and the ruins—“this is holy ground. Our holy ground. You can’t be here.” His voice had dropped, lowering as his demeanor smoothed out, losing the amused grin and the cheerful lilt to his voice. “You don’t belong. We don’t want any bloodshed. We regret the loss of every single pony life. But Manehatten belongs to Equestria, and we won’t suffer your intrusion on ground hallowed by the blood of martyrs.”

“Equestria? There is no such thing,” Brightblade said, his voice thick with contempt. “It ceased to exist when the heretic Sunset Shimmer was brought to justice.” Emberglow was a little surprised at Brightblade. Few ponies were actually well read enough to know the name of the secessionist nation founded by the second great heretic. Brightblade had never seemed like much of a history buff to her, even though he was a Mystic.

“If you say so,” the heretic said with a shrug, not taking Brightblade’s bait. “We feel differently. We don’t want to kill you, but we’re ready to enforce our claim with violence if we need to. However, if you agree to leave, we’ll clear the path for you. No more mortars, no more attacks.”

“A bit late for your offer for the ponies who died in the air, isn’t it?” Brightblade asked. The heretic looked grim.

“This isn’t the first time you were warned, Mystic,” the heretic said. “We sent messages to your superiors. We took out one of your airships. You’re awfully persistent, you know? But I’d really, really like to avoid any more deaths.”

“Why? Why do you care?” Brightblade asked.

“We fight against institutions and ideas, not against ponies,” the heretic said. It sounded rehearsed.

“And what if we don’t go?”

“Then we bring fire and pain. We will rain down death and justice on the interlopers, and may Celestia and Luna have mercy on your souls,” the heretic said. Brightblade snorted out a laugh.

“That’s supposed to intimidate me?” he said. “Let’s not play any more games, hm? If the Knights Discordant had the ability to enforce their claim on Manehatten, they would have decades ago. This would be a working city, not a rubble pile infested with life’s rejects. You wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t detect the same thing we did.”

“Oh?” the heretic asked, grinning triumphantly. “And what did we detect?”

Brightblade scowled at the unicorn stallion but said nothing. Clearly the heretic thought he had won some sort of victory from the smirk that was glued to his muzzle.

“Not going to talk? Okay, let me fill in the blanks, then. I’ll tell you what you detected. From New Canterlot City, your fellow purple smarts detected a motic surge somewhere in Manehatten. It contained an energy signature unlike any you’ve ever seen before. But given the ambient motic radiation from the war in Manehatten, your fellows were unable to pinpoint a specific location, nor learn anything more about the nature of the surge. So you decided to come into our city, equipped with better detection equipment, to try and assess this new threat or weapon or whatever it is. Did I miss anything?”

“Do you have a point?” Brightblade asked. The heretic laughed.

“Not really, no. Only that you’re risking your life, and the lives of all your ponies, over something you know nothing about. Is it worth it? Turn around, little Knight. Make the right choice, and you save the lives of everypony you brought into this nightmare place.”

“So there is something worth finding here?” Brightblade said with a grim smile. “Good to know. Tell me, how did you know when we would be dropping into Manehatten?” He glanced at Emberglow when he asked the question.

“That one’s not hard. We were already here, and we knew you were coming.” The heretic hesitated for a moment, before his voice grew somber. “You may not believe it, but we mourn for all loss of life. We wish it didn’t have to come to violence.”

“Spare me your lies. We won’t be leaving, heretic, but this chat was useful,” Brightblade said. The heretic sighed.

“For me as well, I suppose. Scurry back to your shell, little turtles. You’ll be safe until you reach your shield. Please know that I regret what I’m forced to do here. The mortars will resume shortly.”

With a snort of contempt, Brightblade turned and walked slowly and confidently back up the hill. Delver wasn’t nearly as nonchalant; his was a tactical retreat, never turning a flank or a rump towards the two heretics. Emberglow followed his lead, hoping that she didn’t appear as nervous as she felt. For their part, the heretics held their ground, the griffon still a solid stone, while the unicorn waved cheerfully at the retreating trio.

All of the remaining Knights were waiting for them at the top of the hill. Brightblade silently motioned with his hoof, and everypony followed him to the command tent. The last one in was Silverfeather, who closed the tent flap behind her.

“Delver, what do you make of that meeting?” Brightblade asked. Delver pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment.

“Hard to say, sir. I don’t think he was lying about not wanting a fight. Also that power move of his might have been a bit of posturing. I’d be surprised if we didn’t outnumber them. It could be he was trying to scare us out of a fight because he knows he doesn’t have the numbers we do.”

“Time isn’t on our side, but numbers might be. Not much there beyond speculation,” Brightblade grumbled. “Emberglow, you saw his eyes, right? What does that mean?”

“Honestly, sir? I have no idea,” Emberglow said. “Heterochromia doesn’t occur naturally in ponies. It’s genetic in dogs, cats, and some other animals, but not us. It only happens as a result of injury or disease, or even some form of mutation. Perhaps he’s been blinded in one eye, though he didn’t act like it.”

“Not very helpful,” Brightblade muttered. “Oh well. Moving on. Do you have a location for us, Joyful Sound?” he asked, turning to the Knight in question. The quiet Mystic smiled slightly and nodded.

“Not exact, but I’ve got a general idea, sir,” she said. She laid a map of the area on the table. The hill was marked with a red circle, and there were five blue dots marked in an area extending to the west of the camp. “The good news is, it’s close. I know the readings are coming from the west, within a mile or two. The bad news is, I’m fairly certain they’re coming from underground.”

“Underground?” Brightblade asked.

“Yes, sir. That makes things difficult. The Manehatten Caves are a labyrinth of overlapping ruins of the old underground train system and mutant animal warrens. There’s no sense or logic to them, so I have no idea where we’ll need to enter in order to find our target. The blue dots are where I believe there are entrances into the Caves.”

“We need to get inside one of those caves, and see if we can find a way to our target. We don’t have much time. We’re going to be rationing food soon, and I don’t feel safe foraging in this forsaken place. Our best chance is to find what we’re looking for before we’re forced to retreat. Delver, are the marines ready for action?”

“Yes, Brightblade. They’ve been ready since our meeting with the heretics.”

“Good. How many do you think we’ll need to leave behind to keep the camp safe?”

“One fire team, and maybe a Knight or two,” Delver recommended. Brightblade nodded.

“Fire Team Corona will stay here and lay down covering fire for our exit. Gem, you’ll stay here to command the marines.”

“But, sir!” Gem protested. Brightblade waved a hoof.

“I know, Gem. Trust me, I get it. I need to leave an Adamant behind to oversee the camp. It can’t be Delver, and I suspect I’ll need both of our pegasus Knights with us, so it can’t be Silverfeather either. I’m sorry.” For once it seemed like Brightblade had managed some empathy, but even in this show of concern, he remained implacable. With effort, Gem managed to stow her protest and nod glumly. “Thank you. I’ll be leaving Joyful Sound as well. Keep trying to get a clearer reading on the location. Do you have a portable motic seismograph I can bring along?”

“I do, but it’s only accurate within a quarter mile. And ‘portable’ may be a slight exaggeration,” Joyful Sound said. Brightblade shrugged.

“I’ll have one of the marines carry it. Silverfeather, Emberglow, Bitterroot, Delver and I will be making a foray into the ruins, heading for…” he glanced at the map, pointing at the closest of the blue dots. “Right there.”

“This is insane. You know that, right?” Bitterroot cut in suddenly. Everypony stared at her. “You’re committing most of our forces to a foray into unknown territory, with an unknown number of enemies out there. It’s crazy.”

“What do you suggest, Bitterroot?” Brightblade said, far too calmly. “We’re low on supplies. Any scouts we send out are immediately fired on. We have no effective way of scouting these locations. Our shield is a ticking clock; the more explosives they drop on us, the more batteries it will take to power the barrier. Eventually we’ll run out, and be vulnerable. So do you have another suggestion?”

“Bitterroot, I think he’s right,” Delver said softly. “The situation is desperate, and we have little choice. But our opponent may have revealed some things during our meeting.”

“Oh?” Both Bitterroot and Brightblade looked curious.

“Just speculation, really. But I think our enemy may have tipped his hand a bit in his gloating. First of all, by asking us to leave before we could find what we’re looking for, he’s confirming that it’s important. Second, I think that by asking for a meeting, and suing for peace like he did, he’s admitting that he doesn’t have the pony power for a long term siege. He wants this over as quickly as we do. Either he’s low on troops, or he’s low on supplies as well. A foray into the ruins, a show of force, may be our best chance of assessing what kind of firepower he’s brought to Manehatten.”

“Thank you, Delver,” Brightblade said, sounding both surprised and genuinely grateful. “That was my thought as well.” Everypony nodded, and even Bitterroot seemed to be mollified. Brightblade’s expression became grim again. “Silverfeather, you’re in command of the marines.” Both Silverfeather and Gem Redmane flinched. It had been Tad’s role to command the marines, and liaison between the Knights and the common soldiers. “Gem, I expect to begin volleys of covering fire into the foliage beginning in twenty minutes. Let’s see what we can flush out before we have to charge into the unknown.”

With that, Brightblade dismissed the meeting. The ponies had their duties. Emberglow went to check on the two remaining medics; after Cliffjumper’s death the scout team was left without a medic, and Tumbleweed would be staying behind with the rest of Fire Team Corona. That meant only Sea Spray and Emberglow would be overseeing the medic duties for the soldiers, though she was sure Bitterroot would help with those duties when she could.

Gadget and Gearsmith were assembling with the other marines of Fire Team Epsilon, and Emberglow realized with a touch of guilt that she hadn’t really seen or spoken with them since she had awoken. When their eyes met, Gadget gave her a smile and a wave, and even Gearsmith managed to look happy to see her.

While Emberglow was checking her supplies and checking in with her medics, the mortar bombardment began again. This time Emberglow wasn’t in a tent when the explosion struck the top of the barrier. With a flash of magenta light, the entire barrier became visible, each hexagonal section brightening up as a smoky explosion struck the top. Everypony flinched, instinctively ducking down as the smoke drifted into the camp, then glanced around sheepishly before continuing about their business. It turned out to be the first strike of many, however. Every few minutes afterwards there was another explosion, another flash of magenta light, another collective flinch from the soldiers below.

“Will they ever run out of ammo?” Bitterroot asked Emberglow rhetorically, when the ponies that were leaving on the foray were gathered together, ready to charge into the unknown. Her voice was like her name, clearly upset about something. Emberglow shrugged.

“If their focus is on bombarding the camp, then we’ll be safer out there, right?” Emberglow asked. Bitterroot sighed.

“Probably. I don’t know.”

“Is everything okay?” Emberglow asked, lifting a hoof to rest companionably on the older mare’s shoulder. Bitterroot smiled wanly.

“Yeah. Maybe. I’m just getting a bad feeling about this little venture. I know Delver’s right, but still. We know absolutely nothing about the heretics’ numbers or forces, and it makes me nervous. We’re going in blind. I know we don’t have a lot of choice, but that doesn’t mean I have to feel good about it.” Bitterroot huffed, shaking off Emberglow’s hoof in the process. “Bah. Just ignore me, Emberglow. Just an old jumpy soldier’s concerns, nothing more.”

“I’d never dismiss a veteran’s concerns,” Emberglow said, smiling gently at the older mare. Bitterroot snorted with amusement.

“You callin’ me old, youngster?” the older mare said, deliberately making her voice shaky and cranky in a comical imitation of an even older pony. “Well I’ll have you know back in my day rookies showed a lot more respect for their elders.” She looked like she could have gone on, but Emberglow was already giggling. Bitterroot grinned. “Thanks for listening to my worries.”

Soon enough, Brightblade gave the order for the marines who would be staying behind to begin sweeping the tree line with suppressive fire. A sharp staccato of bullet fire erupted along the trench, peppering the tree line with lead. There was nopony to be seen, and Emberglow wondered if their barrage was even accomplishing anything.

“Keep low to the ground. No flying. Knights, cast your shields and stay in front, our spells will keep the others safer from bullets,” Brightblade said, pausing long enough as the five Knights cast their spells. “Let’s go. Follow me!” The Knight Mystic reared up on his hind legs, bringing his forehooves down with a dramatic stomp before charging up and over the earthworks and down the hill. It took only seconds for the five Knights, leading nearly twenty assorted marines and scouts, to reach the bottom of the hill and the tree line.

The heretics hiding in the trees, however, were not fooled by the covering fire nor the swiftness of the charge. Over the sounds of the friendly fire they were galloping away from, they began to hear closer, hostile fire from the trees. Emberglow felt the impact of one of the bullets against her magical shield, right near her cheek; it would have taken out her jaw and most of the right side of her face, if she hadn’t been magically protected. As more shots rang out, there was a cry of pain behind her, then another. At least a few bullets had made it through. She didn’t recognize the pained voices, which meant it probably wasn’t one of her close friends. She immediately felt guilty for the thought.

Once they were in the relative safety of the trees, Brightblade slowed to a trot. Emberglow took a moment to look over the marines. Indeed, two of the ponies had been shot. A pegasus scout was limping, bleeding from one of his hind legs. Emberglow’s heart leapt to her throat when she saw the other wounded pony.

Sergeant Arrow’s uniform and chest fur were matted with blood. She was panting with exertion, her eyes glazed over with pain. When all of the other ponies slowed down inside the tree line, she slumped to the forest floor limply. Emberglow rushed over, ignoring Brightblade’s impatient whinny. She was gratified that Bitterroot was right by her side. A quick glance showed that Sea Star was already bandaging the wounded scout.

The wound was deep, and Emberglow couldn’t see an exit. From the entrance point, the bullet was lodged somewhere within the sergeant’s chest, perhaps in a lung. She cast a quick diagnosis spell and nearly sobbed at the results.

“The bullet’s in her heart,” Emberglow said, and Bitterroot swore. There was no way to heal the sergeant with magic, in the middle of a forest, with no surgery equipment and no time. “Sergeant Arrow, can you hear me?” The sergeant was breathing hard, gasping and panting with a dazed, agonized look on her face.

“It…hurts,” the sergeant rasped, and Emberglow gently cradled the dying marine in her hooves.

“I know, sergeant. I’ll make the pain go away, okay? I’m going to make it all better.” Emberglow could feel her eyes growing wet. She cast a single spell, just enough to make the sergeant fall into a deep sleep. The earth pony mare stopped breathing only a few seconds after, her eyes glassy and empty. Emberglow closed them softly with one hoof.

“We don’t have time to delay,” Brightblade said, trotting over. The other marines of Fire Team Epsilon were trying to look stoic, but several of them were struggling. Gadget kept her distance, but was openly crying silently.

“We can’t just leave her,” Emberglow said.

“We’ll bring her back to camp on the way back,” Brightblade said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Saints remember you, marine. Your courage did you credit.”

It should have made her feel better that the usually antagonistic Knight Mystic would spare some words to honor Sergeant Arrow, but instead Emberglow just felt irrationally angry. Hadn’t this very same Mystic implied that all of the marines from Arrow’s fire team were just as responsible for the mess in Port Luminescence as Bubblegum was? And now he pretended to honor her, all while also acting like he was impatient to leave the sergeant behind and get on with their task. With a deep breath, she nodded, trying to get a handle on her anger as she slipped the still body to the forest floor.

“I’ll come back for you, sergeant,” Emberglow promised. Part of her wanted to swear vengeance as well, but that didn’t feel natural or appropriate. Most of the marines, even those scouts who hadn’t been in Sergeant Arrow’s team, stopped and saluted the still form as they passed. But Emberglow couldn’t tear herself away. Even with her promise to return to the body, she still felt glued to the spot.

“Emberglow,” Bitterroot said gently, laying a hoof on Emberglow’s shoulders. “Emberglow, we have to go.”

“How can we just leave her here?” Emberglow whimpered.

“She’ll be fine,” Bitterroot said soothingly, gently pulling on the younger mare to get her moving. “She’s past feeling any pain now. The Saints are already preparing her for rebirth, this is just a shell. We need to go.” Emberglow finally looked up from the body, meeting the older mare’s eyes. Bitterroot wasn’t crying but there was sadness there. Emberglow’s own vision was misty. Gadget had hung back as well, her wet eyes concerned and compassionate.

“Okay,” Emberglow said, and began trotting. There were still bullets zipping around, after all, even though the dense foliage was effective protection. The marines and Knights packed in close, staying within sight and shouting range. It would be quite easy to get lost in this overgrown mess.

Suddenly the gunfire cut off, leaving the forest dramatically silent. Brightblade, out in front of the group, harshly motioned with his hooves for each pony to get low. They crept forward, cautious and afraid, moving a snail’s pace towards the entrance to the Manehatten Caves from Brightblade’s map. Suddenly, the forest up ahead thinned to nearly nothing. A cracked, pitted asphalt road bisected the forest, with tufts of tall grass growing up in between the cracks. The street was completely silent. There were no sounds of bird or insect life. Emberglow thought they’d probably all been frightened into hiding by the explosions and gunfire. It was probably a good thing; whatever wildlife haunted these ruins could stay as far away as possible, if Emberglow could have her way. She thought about the frog monstrosity that had nearly eaten her and shuddered.

“Ambush spot?” Brightblade asked softly to Delver. Delver nodded. Across the wide street were the broken shells of several buildings. On the ground at the edge of this tree line, just in front of Emberglow, was a metal sign propped up on a pile of stones, marred with dirt and moss. Absently, Emberglow brushed the debris from the sign. It was a green street sign, with a bold font declaring ‘5^th Avenue’.

Emberglow’s mind wandered a bit as she wondered at the kinds of ponies that would have looked at this sign when this city was alive. They probably hadn’t even bothered to look; they probably knew the roads like she knew her own back home. Maybe everypony that had walked past this sign had ignored it, never even realizing it was there. And now here it was, somehow still intact after a thousand years of war, neglect, and decay.

“Could be,” Delver whispered back. He pointed a hoof at a few of the broken brick walls across the street from them. “I’d hide rifle ponies behind there and there,” he motioned to two spots. “Do you see our cave entrance?”

“See the sign over there?” Brightblade pointed. The sign in question was partially melted, though still attached to a scorched section of brick. Emberglow could make out three letters, ‘UBW’. “That probably said ‘subway’. That’s what these ponies called their underground train system. I’ll bet it’s very close. We’ll need to cross the road to search for it.”

“Meanwhile, crossing that open stretch leaves the marines completely open to rifle fire,” Delver said, and Brightblade nodded.

“It will have to just be us,” the Knight Mystic concluded. “Have the marines hunker down here, and provide us with covering fire if they can. Those of us with magical shields will scout out the other side of the road.”

“Yes, sir,” Delver said. “You heard the plan, marines,” he called back to the assembled ponies. “Gearsmith, you’re the senior marine in your fire team. I’m giving you a field promotion to sergeant. You and Scout Sergeant Leaf Turn are in charge over here.” He motioned to the green pegasus mare who was sergeant of the scouts. “Stay low, and stay in the trees.”

“Yes, sir,” the two responded.

“Once we’re out, we’ll head straight for that sign. If that doesn’t draw out any fire, we’ll fan out and begin looking through the ruins for our cave entrance. Delver and Emberglow, head south along the road. Silverfeather, myself, and Bitterroot will head north. Don’t get out of earshot.”

On Brightblade’s orders, the five Knights drew out their weapons and marched into the open ground of the shattered street. Each step was agony; Emberglow was sure a wave of lead was going to pour down on them the second they reached the open, unprotected expanse. But nothing came. After a moment’s hesitation, the Knight Mystic ordered them all forward. Step after cautious step, the five of them made it to the other side of the road and split away, just as Brightblade had ordered. Delver turned confidently to the south, with Emberglow following behind, her spear clenched tightly in one hoof, ready to attack as soon as an enemy showed its face.

The wreckage of the buildings around them was everywhere. Masonry, debris, and metal bits such as struts and girders scattered about haphazardly. The ground, where it could be seen between bits of building, was muddy. Delver and Emberglow picked their way through the ruins, looking for any hint of a cave entrance. They were mostly silent, sharing only a muttered word of direction, or a warning about a loose brick or hidden tripping hazard.

When the attack came, there was no hint or warning at all. In one moment they were stepping cautiously through the ruins, and in the next, a metallic figure cannonballed into Delver, knocking him aside and slamming into an upright brick wall with a thud and a crack. Emberglow saw Delver roll gracefully under his assailant, coming up with his hooves underneath him rather than on his side or upside down.

The attacker had no weapon. It took Emberglow a moment to identify the griffon from their meeting with the heretic earlier. The creature flared his wings wide, rearing up so that he could slash at Delver with his sharp claws and peck with his beak. He was fast, hitting at Delver more often than he was missing. Even though most of the strikes scraped off of Delver’s blue armor and helmet, his claws had found flesh enough times that Emberglow could see blood. She set herself to charge at the griffon when she saw a glint of glowing light from the corner of her eye. She only had a quarter second to dodge, ducking just as a light blue beam of magical force shot at her from behind one of the larger wall sections, firing straight for her neck. She managed to dodge most of the beam, though it still struck her armor just on the top of her criniere.

Though Emberglow had ducked under most of the beam, the impact of the magic against her enchanted armor still shoved her like she’d been tackled. She was knocked sideways, tumbling into the rough stone and metal debris. Sharp corners and edges scraped against her armor, and Emberglow staggered to her feet as quickly as possible, trying to take stock of this new attacker.

Facing Emberglow was a unicorn mare, wearing no armor but a loose grey robe with bits of green and brown foliage sewn into it. It was clever camouflage. The mare was a pale, pastel pink color, with a white mane cut short and held back with a headband that rested just under her horn. The accursed appendage was glowing with a glistening white aura as she advanced slowly and nervously. Her purple eyes were locked on Emberglow with a terrified sort of look, and she could swear the young heretic was trembling. Emberglow steadied herself, prepared to dodge another beam, but it never came. Instead, a pile of rocks floated into the air, surrounded in a white glow. Her eyes widened just as they shot towards her.

Emberglow yelped in pain when the first rock struck her just above her eye. The second bounced off her flank, leaving a mark on her flanchard. Soon she was being pelted by dozens of rocks, most ricocheting harmlessly off her armor, but some few finding their way between cracks. Emberglow gritted her teeth and began to advance on the mare, but progress was glacial. She stumbled and flinched as the mare backed away slowly, further away from the other two combatants.

Emberglow had been dodging and blocking missiles for a few seconds when she finally glanced back and saw how far away she’d grown from Delver and the griffon. She glanced back at the unicorn, who was preparing another barrage of stinging stones, and decided not to keep playing her game. She tried to duck behind a wall to gain a moment to think and breathe, but apparently levitation magic didn’t take much finesse or line of sight. Even out of sight, the heretic still bombarded her with projectiles. If Emberglow was going to win this, she realized, she’d need to use her wings.

Flaring her feathery limbs out of her sides and ignoring the sharp sting of impacts against them, she leaped into the air, gaining altitude as quickly as she could pump her wings. She felt the rocks, some whizzing past her and some impacting on her hooves and flanks as she rushed through the skies, out and over the broken street. She heard the hooves of the unicorn pounding against the street, chasing after her, just as the marines hiding in the tree line opened fire. With a yelp of terror, the mare retreated back into the cover of the ruins across from the tree line.

Emberglow could tell, however, that something was wrong. Sounds of gunfire came from the trees, as well as shouts of pain and the impact of weapons. The marines were being attacked from the other side. She glanced back at the ruins, where Delver was still fighting against the griffon. The creature was doing his best to stay within Delver’s reach, making it difficult for him to take full advantage of his weapon. Meanwhile, the griffon was making good use of his own claws and their much shorter, more dexterous reach. Delver might have been stronger than the griffon, but the silver armored creature was certainly faster than Delver. Delver could barely even use the haft of his spear to parry the incoming claw slashes. Emberglow, hovering just above the cracked road, swooped down in a diagonal dive towards the pair. This time, she was ready when the unicorn struck out with her magic.

Just as she saw the glimmer of the oncoming beam from the corner of her eye, Emberglow furled her wings, turning her graceful dive into a steep drop. The beam missed her, and Emberglow flared out her wings just before she impacted with the ground, coming to a rest right behind the griffon.

“Dad, behind you!” the heretic screamed, just as Emberglow was preparing to lunge with her spear. Her weapon, headed straight for the creature’s leonine hindquarters, sliced through empty air instead as the armored griffon took to the air himself. A quick hop and spin, aided by a single flap of her wings, brought Emberglow to where she was standing side by side with the Knight Adamant.

“You okay?” she asked him. He was breathing hard, but nodded.

“Yeah. He’s good,” Delver said. “You?”

“Bruised. Still standing, by the Saint’s grace. The marines are being attacked.”

“Any news from the other three?”

“I couldn’t see them when I went airborne,” Emberglow admitted. They didn’t have much more time to speak; the griffon was advancing slowly, his claws at the ready. The unicorn hung back, her horn lowered as if she were about to charge. It still glowed.

“Regroup with the marines,” Delver said. “I saw the unicorn wouldn’t follow you into the street.” The two of them backed away slowly until they were in the middle of the broken street. Their two attackers were reluctant to follow. “Can you fly north and get in touch with Brightblade? I’ll try to keep the griffon from following.”

“On it!” Emberglow said, coiling her legs to spring into the air. Brightblade, Silverfeather, and Bitterroot couldn’t have gotten far, but Emberglow couldn’t make out any noise from her companions to the north. She stayed in the middle of the broken street, noting that the two heretics had been reluctant to brave that open space before. Though she was in a hurry, she spared a quick glance behind her.

The two heretics had apparently switched targets. She saw Delver locked in combat with the unicorn, dodging levitated missiles just like she had before while he tried to close with his spear. Meanwhile, the silver armored griffon was right on her tail, closing fast with his claws leading and a grim expression on his face. He was closing fast, and it took effort for Emberglow not to yelp in terror. This griffon would not hesitate to kill her. A few glances towards the tree line told her that she would probably not be getting any aid from that quarter; she couldn’t see any of the marines, but the sounds of the battle were intensifying. She flew along the street, traveling nearly a hundred yards before sloping upwards at a sharp angle, trying to spot the other Knights.

She had only a second to look. The griffon’s first attack nipped at her hind legs, scratching against her armor and throwing her off balance. This time she did let out a yelp, spinning clumsily in the air to try and bring her spear to bear against the enemy. He swept to his right, barely dodging her strike, continuing on in a circle around her to try and stay behind her. She might not have been the strongest flier, but her magically enhanced speed and strength wasn’t for nothing. She was at least able to keep the more agile flyer from completely outmaneuvering her.

Emberglow made no more moves to stab at the griffon, but merely tried to keep the point of her spear between her and the creature. She moved the weapon around in a jerking, bouncing motion, keeping the griffon’s eyes on the point and off of what the rest of her was doing. It was something they had learned in the Ivy Seminary. If she kept the spear tip moving unpredictably, it would be much harder for the griffon to close the distance between them and take advantage of his much more agile claws.

It was just enough to keep him at bay while she tried to see how her allies were faring. Finally she caught a flash of white fur among the ruins beneath her. A split second glance showed her that the three were in trouble; Brightblade was fighting off the yellow armored heretic Knight from the earlier meeting, while Silverfeather was slumped limply over Bitterroot’s back. Emberglow folded her wings and dropped into a dive towards the commander and his combatant.

“Sir, incoming!” she heard the griffon shout from behind her. His voice was a deep, rumbly bass, and he projected it with all the skill and practice of a drill sergeant’s parade voice. The heretic Knight looked up with plenty of time to react to Emberglow’s dive. Brightblade tried his best to take advantage of the unicorn’s distraction. Lunging sharply with his spear, the Knight Mystic encountered nothing but thin air as the unicorn’s horn lit and Emberglow heard a pop of displaced air. The unicorn disappeared entirely and reappeared nearly twenty yards away, with a slightly dizzy and dazed look in his mismatched eyes. The griffon pursuing Emberglow changed course to land in front of the unicorn while he got his bearings.

“Sir, the marines are under attack!” Emberglow cried out to Brightblade, who was cursing as he set his legs to charge the unicorn. Her yell made him hesitate and look up at her, before giving Emberglow a nod of confirmation.

“To the trees!” he ordered. Emberglow dropped to the ground next to the three ponies, giving Bitterroot an inquisitive glance.

“Injured wing, possible concussion,” Bitterroot said sharply. Emberglow nodded, beginning a rune casting as the three of them ran, with Silverfeather still slumped on the older healer’s back, towards the tree line and the battle there. She finished her spell on the move right as she saw the unicorn heretic cast his own spell, his horn glowing yellow as he fired a line of bright sparks straight up into the air above them. With a triumphant smirk, he looped his forehooves around the griffon as his horn lit again, and for a second time there was a sharp pop of teleportation. The two heretics disappeared, and Emberglow was left with the mental image of the heretic’s smirk right underneath his mismatched yellow and red eyes.

“What was…” Brightblade began, then looked up, his ears pinned and his eyes wide with horror. “Shields!” Emberglow didn’t have any time to realize what was happening before the explosion threw her to the ground.

Chapter 19

Letter, sent from Knight Lieutenant Turquoise to Knight Private Emberglow. Contents passed censor, deemed non-threatening.

Emberglow,

You’ll never believe it! My project already got approved! By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be on a boat to the Crystal Empire.

The process was a bit complicated, and much of it is still classified, but basically, before we ever even left for Port Luminescence, other Jubilants were corresponding with ‘crystal ponies’ in the Northern Empire. Just before we returned, we received a missive that approved a mission to the Empire.

When I heard, I was both ecstatic and horrified. Ecstatic because, well, we finally made a breakthrough with the Empire. Horrified because I was sure the issues in Port Luminescence would get me blacklisted from the mission. But, as I’m sure you’re aware, rational heads prevailed, and the whole mess has been put behind us (I thank Steadfast Word. He’s been a valuable friend and ally. Thanks for introducing us!). My own order was able to choose which ponies to send, especially since the missive from the Empire asked that we send only Knights from the Jubilant or Radiant (Mystics were deliberately forbidden. I have no idea why).

So I would have been happy with anypony being sent, because it would mean the Empire is now open to the word of the Saints. It is an additional blessing that I was picked to lead the mission. I thank Saint Pinkamena every day for this opportunity. I’d also like to thank a certain former squire of mine for helping to make it all happen.

I don’t know what you’re working on for the Mystics, but Steadfast contacted me and said you and Delver might need some ‘morale boosting letters’. He implied life-threatening boredom. I hope this news makes you at least half as happy as it did me, and brightens up your day. It is, after all, my job to bring joy.

Love, your friend,

Turquoise

1112 AF, Ruins of Manehattan

Brightblade was already stumbling to his hooves when Emberglow came to. Silverfeather was stirring, moaning with pain. Emberglow saw Bitterroot next, her chest barely rising and falling with shallow breaths. Her side was riddled with shrapnel. A dozen points of sharp pain along Emberglow’s flanks and barrel let her know she probably looked the same. She was about to start a healing spell on the older Radiant when she heard the ricochet of bullets against the shattered pavement.

“Get them under cover of the tree line!” Brightblade ordered desperately. While shield spells were quite effective against small arms fire like the heretics’ rifles, they required consciousness to maintain, and neither Silverfeather nor Bitterroot appeared very conscious. Brightblade dashed over to try and shield the downed pegasus’ body with his own. Emberglow did the same for Bitterroot. The two Knights awkwardly dragged their injured comrades, while doing their best to cover them from incoming bullets. “Where is Delver!?”

“He was holding off the heretics that attacked us,” Emberglow panted. “He bought me time to warn you about the attack on the marines. They circled around behind us. He should be just to the south.”

Both ponies turned to look. The unicorn and the griffon who had attacked earlier were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Delver.

“No time to go hunting for him. We need to regroup with the marines and retreat to the camp.”

Emberglow nodded, and dragged Bitterroot towards the treeline in quick, frantic motions. Her heart hammered in her chest as her eyes darted around, trying to spot any sign of the heretics.

But no attack came, and after a tense scramble, the two Knights reached the dubious safety of the tree cover with their wounded charges. Brightblade lifted the unconscious Silverfeather onto his back while Emberglow did the same for Bitterroot, worry filling her gut as she struggled to pull the larger mare onto her back. She barely reacted when Emberglow hefted her up, simply groaning in pain and then slumping into place. She was like a dead weight.

Emberglow tried hard not to think of the implications of the phrase.

A grim silence hung in the air between them as they dashed towards the forest to reach the marines. Emberglow’s ears still rang from the explosion, but she could make out scattered gunfire through the trees as the outflanked soldiers exchanged shots with the heretics. Her heart pounded with both worry and exertion as she pushed through the underbrush, just behind Brightblade.

The marines were scattered through the tree line, close to the road where the Knights had left them. Most of the marines were wounded, with several wearing bloody bandages, though they crouched down, stoically watching the woods to the west with readied rifles. Everypony was keeping their heads down, hoping to avoid the bullets that zipped by overhead. Emberglow marveled at their resolve, even while feeling a touch guilty about her own protections that kept her safe from the deadly rain.

Emberglow looked for the medic first. Sea Star was hard at work bandaging the wounded, crouched behind a fallen tree twisted and shattered by rifle fire. When Emberglow and Brightblade approached, she was holding a compress on the barrel of a panting pegasus, who was lying limply on the forest floor and groaning in pain. She didn’t need any immediate help, so Emberglow’s eyes shifted to the rest of the marines.

She hated how quickly and desperately she looked for her own friends among the wounded soldiers. Fortunately Gadget wasn’t hard to find, crouching next to a few other marines from behind a fallen tree, watching the forest for any sign of enemy movement with their rifles aimed into the obscuring undergrowth. With a pang of worry, though, she realised that she saw no sign of Gearsmith. She moved to check on Gadget, when Brightblade spoke up.

“On your hooves, marines. We’re retreating up the hill to camp,” Brightblade ordered in hushed tones. “If somepony can take our wounded Knights, Emberglow and I will lead the charge through whatever force they’ve got behind us. Help the wounded if you can, leave the dead behind. There’s nothing more we can do for them.”

Two of the marines stepped forward and carefully retrieved the two wounded Knights. Emberglow’s worry for Bitterroot redoubled as she shifted the limp pony onto the marine’s back. Bitterroot’s eyes were fluttering and unfocused, and her breathing was shallow. She would need help soon.

There was movement near Emberglow, and she turned her head to see Gadget. “How many?” Emberglow asked her softly. Gadget appeared largely untouched except for a single bullet graze that painted her shoulder with a narrow line of blood.

“At least five,” Gadget said, her voice a mask of cold fear. “It’s hard to see in this forest. We’ve been separated from a few of the fallen, so we don’t know who’s wounded and who’s…”

“Where’s your father?” Emberglow asked, and Gadget shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. Her eyes were fixated on the dark forest, but Emberglow couldn't tell if she was looking for anything or just staring blankly. She felt a sudden compulsion to hug Gadget, but pushed the thought down before it could get dangerous.

Swallowing, she looked back over to Brightblade. He was gazing over at them, looking annoyed. “You with me, Knight Emberglow?” he asked impatiently. She nodded. “Good. Follow behind us, marines.” Emberglow readied her spear, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Mystic.

Both of their spears were out and ready as Brightblade stepped forward first in a trot, then moving into a gallop. The marines formed up behind them, rifles ready for those that weren’t carrying wounded. There were far too many wounded. Emberglow matched Brightblade’s pace, only a half-step behind. She kept her eyes on the bushes and trees, waiting for a heretic to jump out with a weapon at any second.

She didn’t have to wait long. Two earth ponies, dressed in camouflage like the unicorn from earlier, lunged at the charging Knights from behind one of the trees. They both carried rifles, but neither fired, choosing instead to charge with the wicked looking bayonets fixed to the ends of their weapons.

Emberglow hesitated, slowing nearly to a trot, but Brightblade didn’t break his stride. With a roar of fury, he knocked the first bayonet aside with the haft of his spear, allowing the second to scrape harmlessly against his shoulder armor and bounce away. A swift strike with his front hoof knocked the heretic soldier on his side, and Brightblade rammed his spear down, jamming it into the heretic’s barrel. The pony went limp with a shriek of pain, and his companion took a fearful step back.

Emberglow’s own swing of her spear caught him unawares, the haft smashing into the side of his head and knocking him to the forest floor. He fell with a limp thump, eyes glazed over. Brightblade yanked his spear out of the heretic with a grunt and a curse, and the two of them continued on. Emberglow could hear the sounds of the marines, following behind them in tight lines.

“They’re spread out through the forest,” he said, his voice even. “There’s probably enough of them to keep the marines pinned, but not enough to keep us from making it back to the camp.” Emberglow had nothing to add, so she simply nodded as they galloped forward. He turned back to the ponies behind them. “Marines, keep them pinned. We’ll make a breach in whatever lines they have, you all keep them from coming into our flanks.”

Shots rang out from the forest around them, and the marines returned fire as they ran. It was enough; Emberglow could hear the sounds of heretics fleeing through the foliage. Finally they reached the edge of the trees around the Hill.

“Watch out for more mortar fire,” Brightblade muttered as the two of them looked up at the camp on top of the Hill. There was about a quarter mile to go for safety, but there was nothing they could do if the heretics decided to drop more explosives on their heads. “They’ll probably start firing again as soon as we break the tree line.”

“I know,” Emberglow said softly. They paused long enough for the marines to gather behind them again.

“Okay,” Brightblade said, and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

The charge up the hill made Emberglow feel more exposed than she ever had in her life. It seemed like it should have been such a simple thing, galloping up a grassy hill in the middle of the afternoon. Any bullets fired at them wouldn’t even really hurt her. But she wasn’t the only pony galloping, and she keenly felt the weight of the lives of each of the ponies she was responsible for. Bitterroot was wounded, and Emberglow didn’t know how badly. Even though she didn’t want to think about it, she realized she might be the only healer responsible for every one of these ponies. Every bullet that whizzed past her, every whine as a mortar closed in on their group, chilled her to the core. None of the explosions hit as closely as the one that had nearly killed her and Brightblade earlier, though it did mean that the Knights and marines were charging through a haze of dirt and smoke kicked up by the mortars. After hearing the third scream of pain from a bullet wound behind her, however, Emberglow decided she couldn’t stand not knowing who was being hurt, even if she couldn’t really stop to help anypony.

“I’ll bring up the rear!” she shouted to Brightblade, slowing down her pace before he could reply. Emberglow’s heart broke with each new wounded pony that charged past her up the hill, several bleeding, some helping their fellows move up the incline. She tried her best to think like a medic, falling back on her training to analyze each wound and casualty, and begin making triage decisions.

Her first step would be Bitterroot. If a quick spell could get the older healer up on her feet and moving, then that would double Emberglow’s resources. After that, she would try her best to save the others.

Finally, after far too few marines had passed her, Emberglow saw the last wounded pony and fell into place behind him. She tried not to think about the fact that Gearsmith hadn’t been among the ponies rushing past her, nor the look of despair on his daughter’s face as she had run past.

Passing through the magenta barrier at the top of the hill was like passing the finish line in a race. The ponies left in camp were waiting for them just on the other side of the earthworks. Tumbleweed was in front, and several marines filled in behind him carrying bandages and bottles of painkiller and antiseptic. His eyes immediately found Emberglow as she stumbled into camp, mostly out of breath.

“We have a makeshift medical tent set up for you, Lady Embeglow,” Tumbleweed motioned to a row of beds set up on a tarp on the ground, covered by a lean-to propped up with wooden poles salvaged from other tents. “We’re ready to begin triage.”

“Good. Get with Sea Star, she knows the worst cases. Lifesaving procedures only right now. I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve seen to Bitterroot.” Emberglow directed the marines carrying the two Knights to set their slack forms down on the first two bedrolls in the tent. Silverfeather had already been wounded before the mortar had exploded near them, and she looked worse, so Emberglow saw to her first with a quick diagnosis spell. No concussion, but minor head trauma and cranial bruising. Cochlear damage, probably from being too close to an explosion. Fractures in both the ulna and radius of the right wing. Dozens of minor lacerations from shrapnel, but fortunately no major tissue damage or internal bleeding. She was conscious, and shook her head as soon as Emberglow was done casting.

“…’m fine,” she muttered. “Save your spells.” Normally Emberglow would have ignored a patient when they protested her aid that way, but in this case Silverfeather was correct. None of her injuries were life-threatening. She moved on to Bitterroot, who was also awake, already trying to raise her hoof to cast a spell.

“Hold still, Bitterroot,” Emberglow chided. “I’ll diagnose you.” It was a measure of how weary and injured the older medic was that she didn’t protest when Emberglow pushed Bitterroot’s hoof down to rest in the bed. She cast the diagnosis spell quickly, her hoof trailing glowing motes in the air as she formed the runes. As soon as the spell released, she sucked in a quick breath in horror.

“That bad?” Bitterroot gasped out with a grimace of pain. Emberglow nodded, her eyes trailing over the wounded Knight. Though the entry wounds looked small from the outside, they were deceptive. Many of them hid much larger pieces of shrapnel, now embedded in bone and tissue throughout Bitterroot’s body. There were jagged chunks of metal, illuminated magically to Emberglow’s vision, stuck in her lungs, in her stomach, in her intestines and other organs.

A dozen Radiant surgeons, working for hours, might have been able to save her. As it was, Bitterroot was doomed to a slow, painful death as the sharp metal inside her tore her insides to pieces.

“There’s shrapnel throughout your body,” Emberglow mumbled numbly. Years of training were starting to take over, putting her brain and her mouth on autopilot even while she was screaming inside. “Major pieces inside most of your organs. You’re bleeding internally from at least four major locations, possibly more, and several small ones. One of your lungs is collapsed.”

“I’m walking dead, then,” Bitterroot said grimly. “Here are your orders, Knight. We’re already hurting for spell batteries. Triage rules, Emberglow. Don’t waste any magic on me. Other ponies could actually live tonight.”

“But…”

“Could use some morphine, though. You’re a good Knight, sister. Honor serving with you. Saints bless.” Bitterroot let her head rest on the bedroll, her eyes closed. She wasn’t unconscious, not yet, but she was clearly done with the conversation.

Emberglow blinked, took a step back, and was suddenly overwhelmed utterly. The chaos, the cries and grunts of pain, ponies rushing around, the barrier still lighting up every few moments from the impact of bullets or mortar fire threatened to drown her in sound and sensation. She felt emotions battering at the numbness in her mind: terror, panic, sorrow, helplessness. She wasn’t ready.

“What are you doing? Heal Bitterroot!” Brightblade was suddenly right next to her, screaming in her ear. She turned to look at the Knight Mystic. He was up close, right in her face, leaning forward aggressively. Oddly, it was his angry, screeching demand that snapped her out of her inaction.

“No, sir,” she whispered softly but firmly. “Tumbleweed,” she called out loudly enough to be heard over the maelstrom of noise and action. “Please administer morphine to Lady Bitterroot. She deserves to pass in peace.”

“Lethal dose, ma’am?” Tumbleweed asked as he trotted up. Emberglow nodded.

“Yes, medic. She belongs to the Saints now,” Emberglow said. Tumbleweed rushed off to follow her orders, and Emberglow trotted to the worst off of the marines, a pegasus scout who was already bleeding through the hastily applied field dressing that Sea Star had put on earlier.

“What are you doing, Knight?” Brightblade demanded loudly. “You barely even cast anything on Bitterroot! I order you to heal her!”

Emberglow ignored him, raising her hoof to diagnose the scout. Brightblade roughly shoved her hoof down and bulldozed into her, shoving her bodily with his chest. He had a crazed, furious look in his eyes, and was breathing heavily.

“Sir, can you cast healing spells?” she asked. He blinked, and shook his head. “Are you a trained medic?”

“No, but…”

“Then get out of my way. This scout is going to die without my magic. No matter what I cast on Bitterroot, she’ll be dead before tomorrow morning.”

“But…”

“Out of my way, sir,” she said through gritted teeth, and before she could think about what she was doing, she shoved past him, hitting him hard with her shoulder to knock him out of the way. Emberglow was sure he was going to retaliate, but found that she didn’t really care at the moment. Ignoring Brightblade, she stepped forward to diagnose, then heal the broken scout.

“Now Silverfeather,” he demanded as soon as she was done. She shook her head and moved to the next worst patient, an earth pony marine with blood matting his uniform.

“Silverfeather’s injuries are minor and non-lethal,” she said. “The medics will handle her once we’ve stabilized those who will die otherwise. Haven’t you ever heard of triage, sir?” Emberglow was surprised at the anger in her own voice, the bitter note that had crept in when she wasn’t thinking about it. She realized she wasn’t just angry at Brightblade. She was seething. “I’m going to do my job, sir, if you’ll let me. I’ll save as many ponies as I can, and I’ll not waste resources on those who can’t be saved. Every second you distract me, or shove me around, or try to give me your idiotic, ignorant orders, ponies could be dying.”

“Ponies that are worth far less than a Knight,” Brightblade interjected loudly. Several marines nearby stiffened, but nopony said anything.

“Silverfeather will live. Bitterroot will not. Nothing I do right now will change that. Now, you’re wounded as well, right? Get in a bed, sir.”

“What?” Brightblade said, blinking at the whiplash of the sudden subject change.

“You heard me, sir. Those are my orders to you. Get in a bed and get checked out by one of the medics. Either Tumbleweed or Sea Star. I have more important cases to see to.” There was no real reason to say that last, but some petty, angry little part of her needed to deflate Brightblade a bit. Even better, he knew Emberglow was right, and as the senior medical officer could actually give him those orders.

“What if I refuse?” he demanded. Emberglow sighed. The exhale brought with it a keen knowledge of her sheer exhaustion, every bodily ache and muscle soreness, every cut and bruise and strain on her body.

“Then I can do nothing, sir. I’ll just have to work around you,” she said, and she began to cast her spells on the wounded marine in the bed. Brightblade stared at her a moment, then let out a scream of frustration before stomping off to an empty bedroll. The display was childish, but Emberglow actually sympathized with him for a second. She too wanted to scream and stomp her hooves in frustration.

She tried to bury herself in her tasks, but it wasn’t quite enough to tune out all of the sounds around her, the moans and whimpers of pain, the soft voices of the other medics and marines, and even the vocal complaints of her commanding Knight, who had at least finally managed to find a bed.

The motions became automatic after a while, and Emberglow took a numb sort of comfort from the distraction. She cast healing runes until her battery ran dry, then switched it out for another. The second was partially used, and there was a small splatter of dried blood over one of the green gems on the side. It had been salvaged from Bitterroot’s rune gauntlet. Emberglow blinked, allowing herself a brief whimper before retreating again behind whatever cold detachment she could summon. At least the motes would be put to use.

Once all the life threatening cases had been seen to, Emberglow moved on to Silverfeather. The medics had gotten there before her, and her broken wing was set and bandaged with a splint. She figured that since the critical cases were all stabilized, Brightblade would want her to spend her energy on healing the most useful members of their team. The idea of it burned inside her; it felt like the same sort of ridiculous elitism that had plagued the Ivy Seminary. Did the Saints value certain lives above others? She didn’t think so, not even their Knights. But there was a certain brutal practicality to it all. So she trotted over to the Knight Adamant, who was resting with her eyes closed, awkwardly on her side so that she could keep her broken wing spread out.

“Are you awake?” Emberglow said softly. The medics had stripped off her armor, leaving behind only a stained gambeson, before pulling a blanket up over her. The silver pegasus nodded. “Is there much pain?”

“They gave me a shot,” the Adamant whispered. Her voice was tired and dazed, but not strained, so Emberglow figured she wasn’t suffering too much.

“We’re going to need you up and on your hooves as soon as possible,” Emberglow said. “I’m going to fix your wing, and probably your head injury. Everything else will most likely have to heal on its own; I’m guessing we’re going to be saving our batteries as much as possible.”

“I can handle it, Emberglow,” the Knight said. “The wing is the worst. Please.” There was a note of fear in her voice that Emberglow understood. To a pegasus, their wings were their life. To be denied the sky for any reason, even temporarily, was torture. She raised her hoof and cast the spell to mend and knit the fragile wing bones. Silverfeather shivered with discomfort and kept her eyes closed, but when the spell was over she began trying to struggle to her hooves.

“Nope. Bed rest until otherwise ordered,” Emberglow said, pushing gently on the mare’s shoulder to keep her in the bed. Silverfeather nodded tiredly as she slumped back into the bedroll, and Emberglow cast a quick spell to heal her head injury, as well.

Once Silverfeather was seen to, Emberglow sought out Sea Star. There were some questions she’d been avoiding, but now that things were less urgent she was desperate to know. Sea Star was wrangling a few of the less injured marines into carrying bowls of stew to the wounded. When Emberglow trotted up, Sea Star turned to Emberglow, pausing in the act of giving instructions to the marines.

“Everypony stable?” she asked, though she already knew the answer considering Sea Star was feeding the wounded. Sea Star nodded. “Good. Um, I need to know if you’ve seen Sir Delver come in.”

“No, ma’am,” Sea Star said. “I didn’t see what happened to him.” Emberglow winced, but wasn’t too surprised. It was what she’d been expecting.

“What about Gearsmith?” she asked nervously, glancing over at Gadget, who was sitting up in one of the bedrolls with a blank sort of look on her face while an unwounded marine handed her a bowl of steaming vegetable stew.

“I don’t know, Lady Emberglow. He’s one of the ones we left behind.”

“Dead?” Emberglow asked, cold terror seeping through her numbness.

“I don’t really know,” the medic replied. “He could be. He was wounded, and we were all a bit spread out along the tree line, watching the road, when the attack came.”

“So, probably,” Emberglow said, and Sea Star nodded sadly. “Okay. Carry on, medic. I’ll let his daughter know.” This was a part of being a doctor too, wasn’t it? Giving bad news to other ponies? She began to trot over to Gadget, when she was stopped by Sea Star’s hoof on her shoulder.

“Lady Emberglow? You’re going to need to slow down and rest, too. You’re also wounded,” the medic chided gently. Emberglow sighed and nodded.

“I know, medic. I’ll talk to Gadget and then find a bed myself, okay?”

“Can’t rest properly in your armor, my lady,” Sea Star said as Emberglow trotted away. “You need proper rest.” Emberglow waved a hoof in dismissal, though she knew the medic was correct.

As she approached, Gadget’s eyes lit up,, though her ears drooped slightly when she saw Emberglow’s grim expression. She sat down next to the marine in the bed, who moved to set down her bowl of stew.

“No, keep eating. You need the energy,” Emberglow ordered, and Gadget shrugged, keeping the bowl in her hooves, though she made no moves to keep eating.

“Any news about my dad?” Gadget asked. There was a desperate edge of hope in her voice,. Emberglow shook her head.

“No. Sea Star didn’t see what happened to him. Did you?”

“No. We got separated when the shooting began. Lady Emberglow, did we leave him behind? What if he’s still alive?! We have to—“

Emberglow held up a hoof to Gadget’s lips, shushing the pony before she could build too much steam. Desperately she thought of something she could say, something she could do, to offer some degree of comfort to the mare. She came up blank.

“I’m sorry, Gadget. There’s nothing we can do right now.” The words were hollow, and Emberglow hated herself for saying them. Gadget’s bright blue eyes were wet, and Emberglow expected her to begin sobbing any moment, but the marine simply nodded and sniffed. She set down her bowl of soup and clung to Emberglow’s hoof, squeezing it tightly. She clenched her eyes shut, and tears dripped down from the corners. With another tight squeeze, she released Emberglow’s hoof.

“Sorry,” she sniffled quietly, sounding miserable and embarrassed. Emberglow shook her head, taking her now free hoof and wrapping it around the other mare, bringing her in tight for a comforting hug. Emberglow held her while she shook, silent sobs finally slipping from the earth pony mare as she hid her face against Emberglow’s chest armor.

“Have faith, Gadget. The Saints will—“

“Ponies of the Diarchy!” a booming, magically enhanced voice pounded on the camp from outside the barrier. It was the now familiar, slightly mocking tone of the heretic unicorn, though this time he sounded completely serious. Emberglow and Gadget both jumped, startled by the sudden noise. Several of the wounded ponies dropped bowls or spoons when the voice spoke, and the chaos of the camp suddenly froze as everypony immediately stopped what they were doing to listen.

“We are not without pity or heart. You have until sundown to retrieve your dead. See to your comrades, and we’ll continue this bloody business in the morning. You have my word that nopony will fire or harm anypony gathering up your fallen friends.”

With that, the voice went silent. Emberglow released Gadget, holding her at hoof’s length and looking into her eyes, now suddenly alight with hope.

“We can see if he’s still out there,” Gadget said, her voice lifting as she pleaded with Emberglow. “We have to go!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Emberglow said. “And I doubt I am, either. Brightblade will probably send some of the marines who haven’t been wounded. Rest here, I’ll go speak with him. Don’t worry, Gadget. We’ll find out what happened to your father, I promise. For now, you should eat up.” She gently picked up Gadget’s bowl and placed it in the mare’s hooves with an admonishing look, and Gadget dutifully began eating again.

Emberglow rose to her hooves and began moving down the line of bedrolls to where Brightblade sat. Inwardly she dreaded the conversation she was about to have with him. To date, every conversation she’d had with Brightblade had been antagonistic. As she passed the beds of wounded, Sea Star was changing the bandages on a marine as she passed. She glanced up and eyed Emberglow sternly as she passed.

“Lady Emberglow…” the medic said disapprovingly. Emberglow nodded, cutting her off.

“I know, I know. Rest. I will, I promise,” she said, though she didn’t break her stride. She had things to take care of, first. Brightblade looked up as she approached. He, too, was sitting up in his bedroll, and his wounds were all freshly bandaged. His eyes were fixed and hard as she trotted up, and before Emberglow could say anything, he shook his head sharply.

“No,” he said firmly. Emberglow was confused at first, cocking her head to the side slightly.

“What?” she asked.

“I said no. You’re not going out there. It’s a trap, don’t you see?” the Knight Mystic said, rolling his eyes with a huff.

“Sir, it doesn’t have to be me,” Emberglow said. “I just wanted to speak to whoever is going out there first.”

“Nopony is. Nopony’s going outside this shield. That’s my decision, Emberglow.”

“Sir? Why, sir?” Emberglow said, her confusion and frustration mounting. “There could still be wounded out there!”

“We’ll be playing right into whatever twisted plot that bastard has planned. I’m not risking any of my healthy marines on an obvious ploy. If we’re going to complete our mission here, we can’t waste any resources or lives on something as foolish as retrieving dead bodies. It’s not worth the risk.”

“’If we’re going to complete our mission’?” Emberglow quoted back to him, incredulously. “Sir, do you even hear what you’re saying?” Something snapped in her, and she stomped her hooves against the dirt. “Buck your mission, sir! Those are real ponies, who gave their lives serving the Saints, and serving you! The least we can do is make sure they’re laid to rest properly, and not savaged by some cursed creature out there!” Brightblade’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but Emberglow’s rant was still gaining momentum. “And that’s not even counting the ponies that could still be alive out there! We don’t even know if Delver’s alive! Or Gearsmith!” She was panting, twitching with fury. “Do you even care? Do their lives even register for you?”

“I—” Brightblade began to protest.

“No, they don’t!” she spat fiercely, and leaned forward, staring at him. “You’re afraid, aren’t you, sir? You were ready to trust the words of the heretics when they offered a truce to parley earlier, but not now? One taste of defeat and you want to cower behind the shield here, and leave our own ponies out there to rot.”

“Are you done?” Brightblade asked coldly, with murder in his eyes. Emberglow was startled out of her anger for just a moment. It was nearly the same thing Turquoise had said to her, back when she was a squire, when she’d lost her temper at the Knight Jubilant. Brightblade took her sudden silence as assent. “Very well then. My orders stand. You will…”

“I’m going,” Emberglow announced shortly. Brightblade gaped, and she walked away from him. She’d gone nearly twenty steps before the Knight Mystic found his voice.

“Emberglow, stop! Don’t you dare! Turn around right now, Knight Private! This is an order, and you’re insubordinate!” She let the yells and the anger wash over her, not even turning to look or to argue. She’d already made up her mind and set her path. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess, bouncing about in her head with no logic or pattern. She simply needed to know what had happened to Delver, and Gearsmith, and all the other ponies they’d left behind. She was dimly aware that their argument and Brightblade's thunderous shouting had drawn the stares of everypony in camp. She was too tired, and frustrated, to care. Nopony tried to stop her anyway.

By the time she reached the edge of the camp, just behind the earthworks at the edge of the shield, she finally slowed to a stop, her eyes drifting over the marines there guarding the edge of the camp. Each one of them looked uncomfortable. Nopony in camp could have possibly missed the shouting earlier, but neither did they look like they wanted to stop her.

“I’m going to get the bodies of our friends who were killed,” Emberglow said to them.

“By yourself?” one asked incredulously. Emberglow looked behind her. Everypony in camp seemed frozen, watching her with stunned looks on their faces.

“Looks like it,” she said. She began walking up to the marines, not pausing, forcing the two closest in her way to part and let her through. She passed through the magenta glow of the shield, not bothering to climb through the trench, instead spreading her wings and flapping just enough to transverse the gap.

It wasn’t until she touched down on the other side and began trotting down the hill that she realized she hadn’t even bothered to put up a shield spell. Her breath caught in her throat and she waited for death to come in the form of swift lead. Nopony fired on her, and she didn’t feel the sensation of bullets tearing through her flesh.

Slowly she began to breathe again, frozen at the top of the hill just outside the shield. Mentally, she chided herself for just standing still in an open space, before slowly spreading her wings and taking off, flying down the hill until she reached the tree line at the bottom, where she knew the first of her fallen ponies rested.

The forest somehow looked different from when she’d been here, just a few hours ago. Maybe it was the difference in the light, the sun at a different angle. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that nopony was currently trying to kill her. But it took Emberglow a few confusing minutes to find where they’d laid Sergeant Arrow down before continuing on.

The sergeant was right where they’d left her, still and silent in death. Rigor mortis had not fully set in, but the body was already starting to stiffen, making it difficult to maneuver into a convenient position to carry back to camp. Though she wasn’t a skilled flyer, Emberglow was at least a strong one; she’d always taken time to exercise and train her muscles and endurance as best she could. It meant that though it would be neither graceful nor efficient, she would still be able to lift the body and at least fly short distances.

As gently as she could, Emberglow shifted the sergeant so she could loop her hooves around her body from behind, underneath her forehooves, lifting her stiffly as Emberglow rose into the air. She couldn’t get very far into the skies due to the dense canopy, but at least managed to get far enough off the ground so that the sergeant’s hooves weren’t dragging on the forest floor. It seemed disrespectful, after all.

When she broke the tree line at the bottom of the hill, two pegasus scout stallions were there, hovering just a couple of feet off the ground with uncomfortable, fearful looks on their faces. Both of them were wounded, but just barely, having only minor wounds which were all cleanly bandaged. Their rifles were at the ready, trained on the forest line as if waiting for an enemy to emerge. Emberglow set the body down gently at the foot of the hill, just outside the tree line.

“You two broke orders to come help?” Emberglow asked. They looked scared and upset, and neither one wanted to meet her eyes.

“Um, no ma’am,” one of them said. “We’ve been given orders to, um…”

“Brightblade wants you to bring me back,” Emberglow guessed. “Okay then. I’ve always wondered what it felt like to get shot.” Her flippancy alarmed even her; it wasn’t like her to be so cavalier towards injury and pain. But there was something about the absurdity of the situation that made her so flippant. It was as if none of this was truly real.

“Ma’am?” the stallion asked, confused.

“I mean, if you’re going to make me go back to camp before I get all of our fallen, you’re going to have to shoot me,” she clarified. The stallions looked first horrified, then relieved.

“Oh, no ma’am. That’s not our orders. We’re only supposed to shoot you if, uh…” the first stallion trailed off, searching for the right words.

“If you do something weird,” the yellow one finished uncomfortably.

There was something in the way he said it, the way the scout hesitated over the last word that broke a dam in Emberglow’s head. She began to chuckle, and then laugh, great big gasping laughs that felt like half a hoof’s length from sobs. It was the laughter of the damned, the same kind of gallows humor laughter that she remembered from her days serving soup to ponies in the pillory. It forced its way up from her stomach and out her mouth, and she shook until she hurt all over.

The two scouts stared at her, fear and uncertainty plain on their faces, their ears shooting up in alarm. Their weapons were held awkwardly, as if they weren’t quite comfortable pointing them at her, but they weren’t quite comfortable not doing so, either. It only lasted a minute or two, but when she was done there were tears in Emberglow’s eyes.

“Um…” the first scout began. Emberglow waved a hoof as she caught her breath.

“Something weird? Really?” she asked, shaking her head. “So I shouldn’t do something weird. Got it.” The entire situation was beyond absurd for her. There was no logic to anything that was happening, no sense, and she could only either laugh uncontrollably or break down and become completely nonfunctional.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” the grey scout asked. Emberglow could see his thoughts practically written on his face. He was worried she’d completely lost her mind. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. Any pony, when exposed to the violence, terror, and loss of the last several hours, could snap entirely and become unhinged. The analytical part of her brain wasn’t entirely uncertain that hadn’t already happened to her.

“I’d be a lot better if the two of you helped me gather these poor ponies, rather than floating there trying to pretend you’re not at the ready to point your guns at me,” she replied, with the same uncharacteristic flippancy she’d shown earlier. It only took a moment of decision. The two scouts glanced at each other, sharing a glance that only lasted a second before stowing their rifles and landing alongside her. “Don’t worry, you can still shoot me if I do something weird.” She managed to stifle another giggle that would have become a second, full blown eruption of inappropriate laughter.

The two scouts looked nervous, but they followed her into the trees. Emberglow hadn’t been with the rest of the scouts and marines when they came under fire within the forest, so their help was invaluable for finding those ponies who had fallen and been left behind. The three of them carried out their grim task mostly in silence, speaking only when absolutely necessary. There were no signs or hints of the heretics, though Emberglow did see places where the enemy ponies may have retrieved their own fallen. There was blood splattered on the leaves of the undergrowth and the trunks of the trees, and Emberglow thought it might be a miracle that they hadn’t been overrun by scavengers or predators yet.

The three ponies gathered the corpses at the foot of the hill, just outside the tree line. Emberglow wanted to be sure each of the missing ponies was accounted for before beginning to haul them up the hill. She wished uselessly for a tarp or a blanket to cover at least their faces with; seeing the dead lined up in a row on the unfeeling earth, their still bodies and faces frozen forever in time, made her sick. It felt disrespectful and undignified, but it was all she could do for now. There was still no sign of Delver or Gearsmith.

“How many did we lose?” Emberglow asked when she and the scouts had hauled the fifth casualty out of the forest. It was a pegasus mare, one of the scouts, and Emberglow thought there could be no more heartbreaking sight in the world than the mare’s limp, still wings, shattered and broken and useless forever. The two scouts were stoic, but there was a dampness in both of their eyes and a stiffness to their movements. Neither one could manage to look on their dead comrade’s face.

“Six, plus Sir Delver,” the yellow scout supplied. Emberglow nodded.

“So we’re only looking for Gearsmith and Delver. Last I saw Sir Delver was back near the road. Does anypony mind if we fly? I’ve seen enough of the inside of this forest.”

There were no objections. Taking to the air, however briefly, felt strangely liberating. She knew that there were probably heretics watching them, but Emberglow found herself just a bit too numb to care. She found herself vacillating wildly between two extremes; in one instant either wracked with sorrow or hysteria, in the next completely frozen and shut down. The trained doctor inside her was setting off alarms; this clearly wasn’t a healthy state of mind.

But she’d given up on caring about it, so she waited for some heretic to decide that this whole truce was really just a great opportunity to snipe a Knight out of the sky and end her life with a bullet, or a blast of magical energy. A rather large rock, levitated with the right amount of force, could probably do the job. She shook her head, trying to clear it of her macabre thoughts. She had a job to do; if she was going to get picked off by a heretic, at least she could go down searching for her friends and comrades.

“The last I saw him, he was over there,” Emberglow said, and the three set off in the direction she indicated. There was no evidence of their fight, no blood on the ground. She couldn’t see either the griffon or the unicorn who’d attacked. She trotted towards the ruins, her eyes scanning the stone, looking for a telltale glint of modern metal or the blue paint of a Knight Adamant’s armor.

Finally, Emberglow spotted the form of her friend, slumped over a broken wall only two hoof lengths high. His spear was fallen, abandoned on the ground just next to him, and there were splatters of drying blood all around. His armor was dirty and stained, and it was clear that he was no longer alive. Emberglow rushed over anyways, holding on to that last iota of hope. The two scouts, startled by her sudden rush, followed behind.

Delver was dead. Emberglow had expected it when she had left the camp, but that didn’t make it hurt less. The pain of loss hit her suddenly, bursting through her numbness like a floodgate, and she lifted his body off of the broken wall, turning him over gently. His eyes were open, frozen in an expression of pain. She smoothed out his features with a hoof and closed his eyes. All of the wounds she could see were deep claw marks; it was pretty obvious the griffon had been too much for the veteran Knight after she’d gone to find Brightblade. With a moan of dismay, the tears finally came.

“Delver, I’m sorry,” she muttered. It was her fault. If she’d stayed, he’d probably still be alive. She wept for a while, not the hysterical laughing sobs of earlier but a quiet thing of hot, bitter tears of grief and guilt. She replayed the last few seconds before she left in her head, wondering what she could have done differently. Could she have changed anything? What if they’d gone back for him, would Delver have survived? Emberglow’s energy seemed to drain out of her, and she slumped onto the ground, cradling her fellow Knight’s body. The scouts watched her, their expressions a mixture of understanding and compassion.

“He was a good pony,” the yellow one volunteered. “Good leader. He cared about us. Took the time to learn our names.” It was another stab of guilt for Emberglow; she hadn’t learned the names of the scouts yet. She opened her mouth to ask, but another voice interrupted, booming out boldly over the ruins. It was a voice nopony recognized.

“There’s mutant scavengers about. Two headed mosquitoes the size of your head. Vultures with necks longer than a python. Venomous tunneling rats. If y’all wanna get your guts sucked out, that’s fine by me, but I’d wanna get out of here if I were you.”

Emberglow surged to her hooves and both scouts drew their rifles, aiming at the newcomer. It was the same pastel pink unicorn she’d fought earlier, the one fighting alongside the griffon who had killed Delver. She was standing about thirty yards away. She still wore her headband and her camouflage robe, though they both appeared stained and in some places splattered with blood. On the surface, she seemed unconcerned that there were two rifles pointed at her, though her horn was lit and glowed with an aura of magic. Emberglow couldn’t see that she was casting any spells, so she was probably just holding herself at the ready.

“Relax, I’m not gonna do anything,” the unicorn scoffed. “Truce, remember?”

“Why?” Emberglow called out.

“Because we’re better than you,” the heretic replied, lifting her nose slightly in a gesture of contempt. “D’you think your shiny little purple smart leader would do the same if the situation was reversed?” Emberglow said nothing, and the heretic laughed. “Thought so. Now I’d get, if I were you. You’re running out of time, and we’ll fire on anypony out of the shield after sundown.”

“We still have one more casualty to find,” Emberglow called back.

“Earth pony, marine uniform, blue fur?” the heretic asked. When Emberglow again remained silent, the unicorn continued. “Don’t worry about him, he’s fine. You won’t find his body because we took him. Prisoner of war. Don’t worry, we’re not monsters like you. He’ll be unharmed for now.”

“Where is he? Where is Gearsmith?” Emberglow demanded, nearly tripping over Delver’s body as she instinctively tried to move towards the unicorn. Both scouts reached out to stop her.

“I told you. He’s safe, we’ve got him, he’ll be fine. Odds are he’ll be the only one of you lot to survive this mistake,” the mare shot back. “Now hurry on back and tell your boss that this is all a waste of time. Our boss’ offer still stands; if he wants to leave, we’ll hold the door open for him. We’ll even give you back your marine.”

The three ponies glanced at each other, though the scouts refused to take their eyes off the unicorn for more than a split second. Nopony wanted a fight, and there didn’t seem to be much more gained from conversation. With difficulty, and help from the scouts, Emberglow managed to position Delver on her back. Between his larger size and his metal armor, he would probably be far too heavy to fly with like she had with the sergeant. The unicorn watched the entire time, silently, her expression inscrutable. When they finally began heading back towards the hill, with the two scouts backing away with rifles ready, she raised her voice one last time.

“Hey. What was his name?” she asked. Emberglow looked back at her, both confused and angry.

“You don’t have the right to ask that question,” she stated. The scouts glared at the heretic.

“Sure, if you want,” the heretic replied. “He fought well. Bravely, ya know? Dad likes to know the names of his toughest opponents. So he can honor them. It’s a griffon thing, passed down from Gallus Freewind.”

“We have nothing more to say to you,” Emberglow said, and turned her back on the unicorn. With a shrug of disappointment, the unicorn turned around as well and slunk off through the ruins, away from them all. The scouts kept their eyes on her until they crossed the broken street and reached the tree line. Once again she hesitated; she didn’t want to go back into the trees.

“We’ll help you, and fly him over the trees,” the grey one offered. Emberglow nodded. The two of them took her heavy burden from her, awkwardly carrying the fallen Knight between the two of them while Emberglow followed behind. They flew over the trees and back to the hill where, to Emberglow’s surprise, ponies from the camp were already retrieving the fallen they’d lined up at the bottom.

It appeared Sir Brightblade had changed his mind, unless more ponies had decided to defy him. She hoped it was the former. Her own insubordination was one thing, but inspiring that kind of rebellion in others made her feel low. It wasn’t that she thought she had been wrong, but she hadn’t really paused to consider the consequences of what she was doing. The idea that Emberglow might inspire others into sinful disobedience twisted her gut with shame.

Gadget was among those marines who were helping to haul the fallen ponies up the hill towards the camp. As soon as Emberglow landed, she and one other marine gently lowered Delver’s body from her back onto one of several stretchers the marines had built and brought down from the camp. Everypony who could see what was happening paused, glancing their way with somber expressions. Gadget glanced at Delver’s lifeless body and blinked away tears, before looking back up at Emberglow impatiently.

“Where’s Dad?” Gadget asked. Emberglow had dreaded this. “Did you find him, too?” Hope warred with dread in the mare’s voice and demeanor.

“He was captured. By the enemy. They said he’s alive.”

“Captured? He’s a prisoner? That means he’s safe, at least. But wait, you said you talked to the heretics? But…”

“Later,” Emberglow said, hushing the mare. “Let’s get this done first, okay?” Gadget blushed, but nodded. “How angry is Brightblade?” She kept her voice low as she took up the back of the stretcher. Gadget took the front, cringing at the question.

“He’s… uh… angry,” Gadget said nervously. “I think you need to worry more about Sea Star, though. She looked like she was gonna kill you.”

“Sea Star? But…” Emberglow began, but then remembered. The medic mare hadn’t given her an order to rest, but she might as well have, right before her explosion at Brightblade. Then Emberglow had run off to retrieve bodies. She keenly felt the need for rest in every single one of her muscles and bones. “I’ll apologize to her.” In front of her Gadget gave a wan smile. It had no real cheer to it.

Marching up the hill for the second time today was even more taxing than the first. By the time she reached the top, Emberglow wanted simply to slump into her bedroll and sleep for a month. But there were things that had to be dealt with first. The bodies she could leave to the two medics. Sir Brightblade stood in the center of the camp, watching her approach with Delver’s body. His expression was patient but barely, a thin cork holding back an entire bottleful of repressed fury. His eyes bored into her, but he didn’t approach her. Once eye contact was made, he nodded stiffly before trotting back to the command tent. He turned to look again before he entered, an expectant look on his face. She nodded back.

The bodies were laid down in a row, covered by blankets so that only the still, vague pony shapes could be seen. Emberglow ached as she thought about the loss, a pain freshened again by the realization that she hadn’t even been there when Bitterroot had slipped away. She hoped the lethal dose of morphine had taken away all the agony before the veteran had died. Once Delver and the others were in place, the two surviving medics approached her.

“What now, Lady Emberglow?” Tumbleweed asked. “Should we… dig graves?”

“I’d rather not lay these ponies to rest here on this hill, so far from their homes,” Emberglow replied. “But we might have to. I’ll ask Brightblade. I think he wants to speak with me right now.”

“You need to rest and eat, Lady Emberglow,” Sea Star insisted.

“I will. I promise.”

“Just like you said you would before you charged off, by yourself, into lethal territory?” she accused angrily. Tumbleweed glanced at her, shocked, and she blushed, looking embarrassed and a touch afraid. “Uh, sorry ma’am.”

“No, you’re right,” Emberglow said gently, patting the medic’s shoulder. “I will rest as soon as I’ve spoken with Brightblade. You have my word. I’ll swear on the Book, if you need me to.” The pale attempt at levity didn’t really elicit more than a thin smile from both medics, but Emberglow had expected as much.

“Can we at least help you out of your armor?” Sea Star asked, and Emberglow relented.

Clad only in her gambeson, and after two more promises to seek her bed and a bit of rations for herself as soon as she’d spoken with Brightblade, Emberglow finally trotted off towards the command tent. She hadn’t taken much time to think about what might come of her little public insubordination against her commander earlier, but now the dread of this meeting was setting in. She was fairly certain that she might have ended her career. A discharge from the Knights might actually be a best case scenario at this point. A court martial was nearly guaranteed. She lifted the flap aside and slipped into the tent as unobtrusively as possible. Brightblade sat alone, next to the small table that held the maps, looking just as exhausted as she was.

“So,” he began, then fell silent. Emberglow said nothing. She imagined, as an interrogation technique, the silence was supposed to unsettle her, but she was just too tired to care.

“I’m sorry I had to defy you like that, sir. In public, with all the marines watching. It was inappropriate.”

“’You’re sorry you ‘had to’?” Brightblade snorted. “Sounds like a piss poor apology to me.”

“I’m not going to say I’m sorry for what I did. That would be a lie,” Emberglow stated. Brightblade gave an annoyed grunt, muttering something angry under his breath.

“I could have you shot, you know,” Brightblade mused. He didn’t sound like he was joking. “Executed for insubordination. It’s within my legal right. Convince me why I shouldn’t.”

It was not exactly a conversation that Emberglow had been prepared for. She was exhausted and depressed, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bedroll for a week. She blurted out the first thing she could think of.

“Because, um, you need me, sir. With Bitterroot killed in action, I’m the only Radiant left.”

“I know a few heal spells,” Brightblade said. “Joyful Sound does as well. I’m sure Silverfeather and Gem aren’t entirely ignorant of combat first aid. You’re not completely indispensable, and if that’s why you thought you could defy me, you’re wrong.”

“I don’t think I’m indispensable, sir. That’s not why I disobeyed you,” she said. She expected to feel fear at the threat he was making, but instead she felt nothing. “Killing me would be a waste of resources, and terrible for morale.” Brightblade gave a snort of laughter.

“Is that the best you can do?” he sneered at her, before deflating into his own look of slumped exhaustion. “Unfortunately, you’re right. I can’t do anything to you yet. But let me make the situation clear. Right now, even with your defiance, you’re still a resource to me. The instant you become a liability, I’ll snuff you out. And you can be certain that my official report will contain everything you have done out here. That almost certainly means a court martial. Enjoy your last days in the Knighthood, Emberglow. I suspect you might not be long for our ranks.”

“Yes sir,” Emberglow said simply. She didn’t have anything to add; it was not like she hadn’t come to those same conclusions already.

“So, going forward, I’m going to need you firmly on board with me. One hundred percent obedience to my orders. Your little dramatic scene out there had everypony in camp sitting up and paying attention. I can’t have that sort of thing happen again. Nopony besides you has questioned my authority yet, but if you’re not behind me all the way it will get much worse. Discipline and order will keep us alive, chaos and disharmony won’t. So yes, maybe I’ll have you clapped in irons the second we make landfall back in New Canterlot City, but for now can you please fall in step and play nice so I don’t have to arrange a firing squad?”

“Yes sir,” Emberglow repeated. Brightblade searched her face silently for a few moments, his suspicious eyes boring into her. She stood still, not quite at attention, waiting for him to dismiss her.

“Get out of here,” he finally hissed, waving his hoof at her. “I don’t want to see your face again until morning, and then only if I have to.” With a short nod Emberglow spun and left the tent.

Outside, there were two marines waiting for her, standing a few feet outside the command tent flap. Sea Star and Gadget both looked tired, covered in sweat and grime, but otherwise healthy. There was a stern look on both of their faces.

“Were you listening?” Emberglow asked. Both mares shook their heads.

“No ma’am. I’m simply here to ensure that you wind up where you’re supposed to be,” Sea Star said formally. “Even if I have to drag you by your ear.”

“I’ve just been recruited to help,” Gadget said. She looked nervous. “But I’m under orders to help with ear dragging if requested.” It was a sign of Emberglow’s exhausted mind that the idea of Gadget biting her ear didn’t sound half bad. She nearly giggled at the loopy thought. Her career was probably over, she might not live through the next few days, and she was busy giggling at a clearly sinful impulse. She really did need rest.

“Very well then, marines. I won’t resist arrest,” Emberglow said, trying and failing to repress the little giggle that spilled out. The other two mares looked at her askance, but neither said anything. They took positions on either side of her as they escorted her to her tent. The whole situation struck her rest-deprived mind as hilarious, until she remembered the fate of the mare she’d been sharing her tent with.

“Sea Star. I couldn’t be there when Bitterroot died,” Emberglow began. Sea Star shook her head.

“No. I can hear that guilt in your voice, Lady Emberglow. You’re not going to beat yourself up about Lady Bitterroot. We gave her enough morphine to pass peacefully. It’s beyond your hooves, she’s with the Saints now. You need to worry about your own health right now.”

Emberglow did her very best to take the advice, but when they reached her tent, it simply felt far too empty. Both of the other mares must have sensed her mood.

“Marine, stay here and make sure the lady takes her rest. I’ll go fetch her some rations,” Sea Star ordered as she gently but firmly shoved Emberglow down onto her bedroll. Emberglow didn’t put up a fight.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gadget said, her eyes on Emberglow as Sea Star slipped out of the tent.

“What about you?” Emberglow asked, mostly to fill the strained silence that descended on the two mares.

“Sea Star already made me eat,” Gadget whispered. Emberglow could hear the fear, the pain, in her voice. Of course. Gadget was worried about her father. “So…”

“I don’t know much,” Emberglow admitted. “Just what the unicorn said to us when we were retrieving Delver’s body. I don’t even know if she was telling the truth. I’m sorry.”

“So she said he was taken? He’s their prisoner now?” Gadget asked, her voice quivering and on the edge. Emberglow nodded. “She wouldn’t have any reason to lie, would she? What’s gonna happen to him?”

“I don’t know, Gadget,” Emberglow whispered, and flinched as the marine tried to hold back a whimpering sob. Gadget’s eyes were clenched shut and she sat back on her haunches, wrapping her forehooves around herself and shaking. Emberglow wished she could reach out and comfort the mare. She wished she had the courage to wrap her hooves around the marine, to take her into a soft, gentle embrace, and to help her forget about everything for just a few seconds. She wished she didn’t hate herself so much for doing nothing. She wished she didn’t feel so guilty for wanting to do something.

Sea Star came back with a dented but clean camp stove, full of a stew made of rehydrated carrots and peas. She sat it down on the ground next to Emberglow’s bedroll.

“Please eat and rest, Lady Emberglow,” she said, glancing worriedly at Emberglow. “We’re going to need you at your best if we’re going to make it out of this crazy place in one piece.” The last sentence felt forced, almost as if Sea Star knew she was guilt tripping Emberglow. Emberglow didn’t have much of an appetite, but she’d try to force herself to eat. Guilt tripping or not, Sea Star was right — Emberglow still had a duty to the other ponies. With one last worried glance at the other two, Sea Star slipped out of the tent. Gadget rose to her hooves and moved to follow.

“You don’t have to go!” Emberglow blurted, flinching and blushing at how the words just seemed to spill out of her. “I mean, if you don’t want to.” The bowl of stew sat on the ground, ignored, as the two mares stared at each other. Gadget nodded, moving closer to Emberglow before sitting back down.

“You should eat,” Gadget whispered hoarsely. Emberglow nodded. Neither pony moved. Emberglow didn’t even glance at her bowl. She licked her lips; her mouth was suddenly dry. “Did you…” the young marine began, then blushed, turning away.

“What?” Emberglow asked quietly. Gadget shook her head.

“What’s going to happen to you now?” the marine asked. It was obviously not the question she’d been about to ask. Emberglow considered quietly for a few moments. Gadget needed reassurance, something positive to focus on, but Emberglow didn’t have any polite lies to give her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Brightblade said he thought about having me shot. He’s definitely going to recommend a court martial when we get back.”

“Nopony in camp would shoot you,” Gadget scoffed. “We all saw you walk out there, all by yourself, just to bring back our own.”

“It was a dumb decision,” Emberglow said. Gadget shrugged.

“Maybe so, Lady Emberglow. But we all love you for it,” Gadget said. “Did you… did you really go out there to see what happened to my dad?”

“Yes, and Delver. I couldn’t…” Emberglow fell silent as Gadget suddenly silenced her with a kiss. Their lips met suddenly as Gadget surged forward. Gadget’s lips were chapped and dry but sweet, so sweet as they moved against Emberglow’s. She melted into the kiss, for just a second forgetting everything that was happening. She let out a noise that may have been somewhere between a whimper and a moan. Emberglow nearly reached out with her hooves to wrap around the other mare, but then there was nothing. A panicked Gadget jerked away.

“I’m sorry! Emberglow, I’m so sorry! I didn’t…” she cut off with a strangled yelp, before dashing out the tent. Emberglow was left staring dumbly at the tent flap, still waving gently from the movement of the mare’s escape.