~General Tangerine~

My name is Tangerine, and I am, well, was the general of the Imperial Legion, until I was branded a liability. I should’ve known better than to assume I could get away with making the entire Platinum Empire look like idiots.

The Imperial Legion has been growing more desperate as of late. Years ago, when the threat of rebellion was merely a pebble to an ocean, we were known as a fair judge, jury and executioner. Only for the most depraved and monstrous felons did we ever consider sharpening the axe.

This kingdom was established a mere four decades ago, which was pretty young by comparison to our enemies, and already it has shown cracks in its foundation. In fact, it more or less already collapsed. While it is tempting to say that the Blackwings are responsible for every atrocity that has occurred since their rise to power, the Imperial Legion has a red ledger of its own to tend to. The hypocrisy isn’t lost on me.

Caro is living proof of such bias and corruption. I scarcely recognize him from Reinoc. Among the burning remains of the marketplace, he was merely a sobbing colt clutching a bloodied sword surrounded by corpses. He wasn’t in a particularly favorable position to be considered sane. At the time, the only explanation was that he was mentally unstable pyromaniac psychopath.

If that wasn’t the case then, it certainly is now, and I can’t shake the terrible idea that it’s all my fault, and I have a lot to consider underneath tonight’s moonless night sky.

Though I walk in a strict circle around the length of the campsite, my eyes never peel away from Caro.

What unstable thoughts lie in this earthwalker’s mind? If he is the mass murderer most of us believe him to be, no, I know him to be, then every moment I let him walk free has hundreds of lives at stake. I can see it in his eyes. I’ll bet my entire plantation he’s plotting to kill me right now.

As I think, Caro is moaning as the Blackwing’s teeth pulls the straps of their bag of holding tightly around his ribs. “Gently, you fool!”

“Sorry. I just don’t want to lose our precious spoils of war. I worked hard for all of that jewelry.” Tohro nickers and shows off the many necklaces, gems and other treasures the griffons had called their own, only to be stolen in return. Hypocrisy has a stench worse than the draugr. I let out a heavy sigh. They honestly believe they are the honorable ones here? They have merely performed thievery upon thieves. Who knows how much those crystal shards are worth?

Caro doesn’t look upon the transparent gemstone with the eyes of one imagining wealth. Instead, his face carries wonder and curiosity, like the gemstone is something he has sought after for many years. He looks... disturbingly serene. “Imagine that, huh, Tohro? All of my hidden potential unlocked with an ancient language.” He carefully returns the gemstone to his bag. “What do you think it meant, anyway? Who is the Reclaimer?” He shakes his head. “Ah, well. I fail to see why it matters.”

I am tempted to ask, and I give in. “How does it feel, being this... Dragonborn character you claim to be?” It is obviously a hoax, after all. Smoke and mirrors, or perhaps an elaborate device set into motion with a few choice words.

Caro answers. “Well... It’s not too different from being a pony, aside from the fact that I feel stronger, my throat feels clearer, my senses are open, and, of course, my voice commands the elements themselves. For instance, notice that our campfire is dwindling to an untimely death.”

I have taken notice that it's growing colder. Only a few wisps of flame remain in our hastily constructed pit.

Caro continues. “Until we can find an antidote for that accursed skeever venom, it will be too much to ask Shae to reignite the poor thing,” he says, gesturing to the smiling lavender mare who lies upon a sleeping bag, the cheeks upon her pale face taking in air quicker than they should. “So! That is why I will now say ‘fire’ in Thu’um.”

He trots to the dying fire with his snout pointed upward. I take several steps away in case he tries anything unusual, or at least more unusual than what I have seen today. Caro inhales, cracks his neck, takes a deep breath, and yells into the fire pit, “YUL!”

The flames crackle and soar upward. My last step back turns into a leap. I can’t comprehend why the Tohro the Blackwing is cheering for such madness. Even Shae is uttering a weak “Woo-hoo,” despite her terrible condition.

I’m still not convinced this magic is genuine.

Tohro lets out an enthusiastic whistle. “Do you know anything else? Because I, for one, would really like to see.”

“I think I may be able to conduct lightning, or at least static electricity.”

"Bubbles?" Tohro cocks a brow.

Caro blushes. "I'm still figuring them out."

"Wonder what bubbles would be used for?"

"Dunno, but my mouth still tastes like soap."

"I thought you liked soap?"

“Well,” I say, interrupting their trade of jabs, “aren’t you suddenly the expert on Precursor culture.”

He raises an eyebrow while still wearing a cocky smile he doesn’t deserve. “Are you still here?”

“If you have such a magical voice then why don’t you heal the little one with it? I’m sure you have some sort of word for antidote in your vocabulary.”

Shae's eyes widen as she tries to scamper away. “Not in this lifetime! You’ve all seen what those shouts are–” Her protests are cut short a series of dry coughs and wheezes. A painful minute passes before she gets ahold of herself. “I’m fine.” I beg to disagree, based on the sick upon her lip.

"She's getting to be as stubborn as you," Tohro muses, nudging his friend. He then turns to Shae. “I’m sorry, love. If there is a healing shout, I'm afraid he doesn't know it.”

“Thank Fauste,” she mumbles, nestling back into her sleeping bag to fight against the infection.

I draw the line there. “Some miracle that voice of yours is. Is anypony going to tend to her using conventional means?”

“Don’t bother, I can handle this,” says Shae again. She is a terrible liar. I wave her off and advance on Caro and Tohro.

“You’re the worst excuses for miracle workers I have ever seen! You rope this innocent noblemare into your escapades, raid the graves of a long dead and highly revered race of ponies, and then there’s this fool!” Having already lost my temper, I have no qualms with seizing Caro by the chin and staring him down. “Your oh-so-impressive display of sorcery dazzles the eyes of your ragtag companions, but I find it sickening! How many more ponies will you murder with your trickery?”

His smirk broadens, making me feel nearly as sick as Shae. “I can think of a few.”

I had lost my temper. Now I’ve lost control. I raise my bladed arm high and point it right between this bastard’s eyes. “I swear to Epona, Caro! In a carriage! Off a cliff!” Only my better judgement holds me back.

"I admire your passion, General," Caro replies, having to audacity to push my hoof aside. "But you're really not one to complain about bloodshed, now are you?"

“How dare you! I may be a lady of war but am no careless murderer!”

"If you don't want to believe a dragon destroyed Reinoc, I respect that. Even I can still barely believe it. But it happened." His eyes narrow. "Blaming the deaths of those ponies on me defiles their memory! I will not stand here and be accused of such things, especially by a mare whose life I saved!"

“You speak in tongues again! Since when do I owe you my life?!”

“Do you really think you could have taken on fifty draugr by your lonesome?”

I am tempted to claim I could have taken more than a hundred without his sorcery, but pride is a vice I do not indulge in. As such, I take a deep breath and back away from the earthwalker. I’m quite amazed at how well he talked himself out of that. Based on how his previously intense eyes are now wide in shock, I can assume he is too.

I suddenly feel dirty, partially on how I had nearly broken my code, and that my armor is still coated in remains. I run off to the nearby hot spring, steaming worse than the water.

“How could anyone believe the destruction of Reinoc was a dragon’s doing?” I say to myself, dipping my helmet into the lake. I relish the thought of cleansing the rotted flesh and bone dust from my armor. “Oftentimes years pass without sighting of such creatures. It’s just... It’s asinine!”

Drops fall from the reflective blade upon my helmet’s cowl, instantly freezing as they touch the fresh snow. I can see my yellow coat and orange mane perfectly across the blade, and yet it still isn’t clean enough. Neither is my coat for that matter. My reflection brings the feeling of grime to my attention.

Curse those draugr! Their filth will never wash out of this! It’s not as if I can simply purchase a replacement. This was custom designed by King Hurricane himself! More vigorous scrubbing from the rags Shae had generously supplied to me yields no result. It’s difficult for one to claim to be a noblemare if her priceless armor is coated in the remains of undead. I may no longer be in service to the queen, but I’m still dignified, dammit!

“Do you, uh, need any assistance with that?”

I turn my head to see the Blackwing pegasus. My reflexes and my remaining frustration are badgering me to snap his neck for knocking me out in Beak Falls Barrow. I restrain myself out of sport, letting him speak his peace. At least he can give me a reason to snap his neck anyway.

“No,” I snort, returning to my fruitless struggle against the stains. “Away with ye. I have much on my mind, and your presence doesn’t improve matters.”

The Blackwing clicks his tongue. “You may jest, dear General, but I am the one in possession of the soap.” He holds up a bag containing three green bars. The smell is a welcome reprieve from the undead stench that still clouds my nostrils.

Drat. Another stalemate.

I narrow my eyes at him, hardening my stare as I slowly take the bag from his possession. His smug smile is giving me plenty of excuses to kill him right now, yet I can’t bring myself to do it. With another snort of indignation, I return to my never ending battle with the remains of the dead, keeping a watchful eye on his reflection. “You should know, I am still having difficulty believing what you call the truth.”

“It was a dragon!” Tohro barks. “The Blackwings have eyes everywhere! And we’re not the only ones who know.”

“If it was a dragon, as you claim, then why didn’t Queen Platinum say anything to me?”

“She’s a bitch like that?” He shrugs. Typical Blackwing mannerisms. “Okay, okay. Maybe she’s not one of the few who know. She’s not a god.”

“She may as well be!” I snap, jerking around to face him. “You should wish for such distinction to serve the likes of her!”

“Yeah, well, maybe she carries herself like a god, but we’re rising against her for a reason.”

“Shokenda Blackwing cast the first spell.”

“Don’t sit there acting like your side is innocent in all this.” Tohro narrows his eyes. “I do recall a certain decree placed into effect by Platinum? One that forbids all soldiers from any sort of relationship, whether it be with a pony or their right hooves.” He grins. “Is that why you’re always so tense?”

This Blackwing... If his ilk are half as annoying as he is, it’s no wonder their leader is insane. “Even if I could have a truly passionate relationship, don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d ever consider you.”

“Wouldn’t even fever dream of it.”

“Besides, it is not because of the Antidistractionary Decree that I am without a lover. I mean, I had a husband, but..." I shake my head. My arranged marriage is irrelevant. "That's besides the point. I’m afraid that law doesn’t apply to me, along with any other set in place by Her Majesty.”

“Oh!” Tohro smiles. “So, while Platinum is the queen of the slag, you’re the queen of ice?” His smile disappears. “Wait, did you say—”

“You call me General Tangerine. I lost that title a while ago.” I set my helmet on the icy ground and point an accusing hoof at the Blackwing’s muzzle. “No thanks in part to you and your little friend! Her Majesty was absolutely livid when Caro slipped from our grasp and I was the first to shoulder the blame. I represent, well... represented, an entire empire’s military strength!” I pound the same hoof on the frozen grass. “And if that power is hardly enough to contain a single earthwalker, then... what hope do we have to crush your rebellion?”

The Blackwing is awestruck. “So, you admit your empire is doomed?”

I loudly groan and undo the straps of my greaves. “I’m simply not part of it anymore. I thought perhaps that if I took Caro’s life on my own, I could reclaim Her Majesty’s honor, and my own. But now, there are so many unanswered questions that... that killing him will likely bring more trouble than good.”

“Yeah. I should have known something was off when you took Shae as a hostage. She’ll have nightmares for weeks.”

I bow my head, shrugging off my breastplate. “That was a... regrettable decision on my part.” I don’t want to look the Blackwing in the eye, because I know even he finds me pitiful. “Listen, could you give me a little privacy? I need to make good use of your soap.” The smell of dust and rot makes my coat feel dry. I dunk my spaulders in the lake.

“It’s not my soap,” the Blackwing replies, a smirk on his face. He turns on his hoof and walks past large stone hiding my undressing from the rest of the group. “Just... save some for Caro. He doesn’t want to admit it, but that coat could really use a scrubbing.”

“For once, we are in agreement.” I actually smile for what feels like the first time, and it feels wonderful, though I don’t deserve it.

As I remove the plating that shields my flanks, I gaze at my mark. A shield adorned with three tangerines. The fruit is a trademark of my old family business. I never quite took part in it. The shield, however... “Even if I am no longer a general, I can still protect the innocent.” The remainder of my thoughts are left to the warming waters of the spring.

“You can’t be bloody serious,” says Caro after a long and painfully awkward pause.

Yes, I had just requested that I carry the burden of Shae and bring her to Trottingham to have her leg and infection mended. I can tell they all believe me to hide sinister intentions underneath my stoic exterior but that is far from the truth.

“I feel indebted to your little clique,” I say to the group, standing close to the sick unicorn. What hell she must be going through, yet she stays calm. “In more ways than one. I will not deny any further that Caro has saved my life,” I nod at him, this time without passive aggression, “so for now, until I fully understand the complicated matters surrounding his innocence, I have decided to sheathe my blade for him.” I raise my hoof at Tohro’s sudden euphoric smirk. “I said, for now. There is something else, though.” I sigh and kneel down to eye level with Shae, hoping her illness doesn’t prevent her from hearing me. “You have made your feelings about my putting your life on the line quite clear, fellow noblemare. I do not expect you to understand how desperate I was at the time, for I thought I could retain my place as a general if I brought Caro to justice. I suppose even if that had happened, there would have been no honor in the how. A hostage is a coward’s tool, and a simple apology just isn’t enough to show you my remorse.” I place my hoof on her shoulder. She’s trembling as if her body is caught in an earthquake. “Would you accept my offer of taking you to Trottingham?”

Shae’s mouth is frowning as if to refuse but her quivering eyes want to accept more than anything in the world. In the end, the eyes win. “Gauntlets. Off,” she mutters in a dry rasp.

That seems fair. The blades upon my armor were held to her neck merely a day ago. I oblige, setting my gauntlets aside for Caro to stash away. He very securely latches his pouch shut. I can tell I won’t be seeing my weapons for a while.

If anypony ever tells you that Trottingham is neutral in this civil war, they are entirely wrong. Yes, it is true that the town does not house any soldiers on either side of the conflict, nor does the jarl contribute to any battles, but, let us face facts; when it comes to two sides of an argument, someone is never truly neutral.

I have been to Trottingham before, usually on diplomatic missions or searching for spies and sleeper agents. At the time, I wore the signature purple and gold of the Platinum Empire upon my steel armor, and as such I was met with just as much respect as hatred. I remember receiving a ripe tomato as thanks from a farmer, and not a minute passed before I was given another, this time to the muzzle by a rotten one.

I suppose you could say that Trottingham is in a civil war of its own, only with words and spoiled food instead of swords and black magic. If only the rest of Equestria had that luxury...

Despite how relatively pleasant this town is, the dread of setting hoof inside its walls intensifies with every step I take up the incline to the main gate. I am fully prepared for a cruel badgering or two, but if worse comes to worst, I may end up having to speak to Jarl Drake, and that is the worst thing that can happen to me right now.

“Halt!” shouts a rather rotund soldier as he approaches me. His rusted armor pales in comparison to mine. “Imperial soldiers are not taken kindly in this city, and-”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I interrupt, gesturing to Caro, Tohro and the sick unicorn upon my back, “we have a spot of an emergency on our hooves. This mare is dying of a skeever venom infection, so I believe it would be best if you point us in the direction of a white mage and call it a day.”

“We have no such thing,” says another guard upon the scaffolding. “The only experienced white mages within Trottingham are Jarl Drake and her court wizard, and frankly I doubt they have any interest in assisting an Imperial.”

Lazy bastard! Is this what counts for authority outside of Her Majesty’s reach? “You must have something!” I shout.

“We’re in the jarl’s good favor,” says Caro. “Perhaps she’ll make an exception.”

The chubby one’s apathy wanes as he hears another fit of hacking from Shae. He relaxes and speaks with less authority. “If you want my honest opinion, you should visit the local blacksmith at Glasswork Forge. She has an alchemy table set up inside her shop, you’ll be able to brew up an antidote. It’d be faster than getting the Jarl’s attention, at any rate.”

Shae makes another sound, that of excitement. I assume that she rather likes the blacksmith option. I turn back to the soldier. “You have been most helpful, sir.”

Tohro flies ahead, landing just outside the gate. “Here’s hoping this Glasswork broad knows how to actually perform alchemy.”

Caro shrugs. “If not, we can always ask Rosemary for assistance.”

As if a jolt of lightning had gone through my nerves, I instantly stand to attention. I recall recent memories of red hair, a yellow coat and constant refusals to wear anything vaguely feminine.

What in the name of Epona is my daughter doing here?

“Welcome to the forge! What kind ol’ Rosemary do for—” She stops talking when she turns to face us, and lets a smile spread across her lips. “Oh! You two again! Fancy that! And I see you brought friends!” Her green eyes look me over, making me feel tiny and scrutinized. It would seem that I don’t even have the distinction of being acknowledged by my own daughter.

I break eye contact to check on Shae, who is still resting in the sleeping bag upon my back. “We have a sick child here, and was wondering if you could help,” Caro explains, his own eyes looking to Shae. All the passion and madness I had seen in those eyes before is gone now, replaced with... worry? Regret?

“Well now, lets have a look at the lass and see what we—” Rosemary's eyes widen at the sight. “Oh, Hephaestus!” She darts around Shae, eyeing every detail. “Those robes! Those ornaments! That horn!” Her hooves fly to her mouth to contain what sounds like a squeal. “You’re from Wintercolt Academy, aren’t you?! Yes! You are! I knew it!”

I try to interrupt. “Rosemary, we can proceed with the formalities later. Right now she needs—”

“I was debating rather or not to show up to work today at all! But now, I’m so glad I did! Because now, I finally get to meet somepony from the most fascinatin' place in all Equestria! I have a passion for the magical arts, ya see...” she points to herself and closes her eyes, exuding an air of confidence. Briefly, I wonder if Caro and Tohro find me this annoying.

My brain registers what she says about having a passion for magic, which makes my eyes land on Caro again. “You’re not going to start shouting too, are you?” I ask Rosemary. She's always like this around unicorns, or anything magical, for that matter. I find it rather unorthodox.

“Shoutin'? Why in Equestria would I do that? Unless yer friends are plannin’ ta rob me.” She gestures to the myriad of swords and armor hanging behind her. The look in her eyes tells me she isn’t afraid to use them if the opportunity ones. At least she has my spirit, but I doubt she has the restraint. “So!” Rosemary’s attention turns back to Shae. “What’s it like up there in Wintercolt? What sort of magic do they teach? You think I could have a shot at gettin' in?” She chuckles. “I jest, of course.”

Shae buries her face into the pillow of her sleeping bag. Clearly she doesn’t want to be bothered, and I step in to run interference. “That's enough. She needs a healer and—”

“C’mon!” Rosemary ignores my talking and nudges the poor dear. “Say somethin’, girl.”

Shae replies by vomiting onto Rosemary’s hooves.

“I am so sorry!” Caro is already on the scene, trying in vain to wipe away the sick. Rosemary laughs and shakes her head.

“Quite alright, lad! Ya don’t have rowdy friends and not experience this one in a while!” She looks back at Shae. “You should'a told me she needs a healer.”

I roll my eyes and groan, stomping my hooves. Tohro’s snickering isn’t helping my mood either. As I lay Shae on the bench in the corner, I jerk my head to signal Rosemary to speak to me in private. She leads me to a stockroom behind the counter, where I see as many incomplete blades as respectable ones. She's been improving...

Rosemary leaves the door open behind her. “What’s up, Mum?”

“What are you playing at? Why are you even here?”

Her unwavering smile looks forced, her eyes darting about. “Take it easy, Mum! I’m makin’ good bits in this here smithin’ business.”

“You are supposed to be tending to the plantation!” I hiss. “And what of Nutmeg and Cinnamon? What of the villa?”

“They’re fine!” Her confidence is beginning to falter. Clearly she still has some comprehension of what really matters. "I left 'em in good care of Duster 'n the others."

“You’re abandoning your responsibilities. What you call a good business will only attract trouble, and those two are nothing but! It could have been you lying in that sleeping bag, coughing up your own stomach!” I hiss through my teeth. “If I had known you were the one they were coming to for steel, I’d have...” Honestly, I can't even think of a punishment that justifies this.

Rosemary will hear none of it. “I can take care of myself, Mum! Besides, that Caro fella is the most generous pony you will ever meet! Do you have any idea how much his donation has helped me and Master Glasswork? I'm finally makin' somethin' of myself!” Rosemary sounds so convincing as she shows off a hefty sack of gold coins. I glance over her shoulder to see Caro kneeling down to tend to Shae again, wondering if I was in the wrong after all. “Since we’re all friends now, I think I can introduce ya proper.”

I am forced to swallow my pride again as I let her take the first step.

As we approach the others, I can feel myself blushing with embarrassment. Rosemary clears her throat to get their attention and points a hoof at me. “Everypony, you've met my mum?”

The others react with the expected surprise and shock. Tohro steps forward and bows slightly. “May I say, Tangerine, you have made the most wonderful—”

“Don’t even think about it, Blackwing,” I seethe, glaring at his smug smile.

“Mum, be fair!” Rosemary whispers, tapping me with a hoof. I shoot her a glare only a mother can perform. She buckles as Shae starts hacking once again. “Um, right, I’ll get on that antidote, then?” She steps toward the back room, never quite taking her eyes away from me, and I return the favor.

“How dare you endanger my daughter with your insanity?!” I snap at Caro once I make sure Rosemary is out of earshot.

“Small world?” Tohro shrugs.

Caro nonchalantly blows his unkempt mane out of his eyes. “Yell louder, maybe that will solve your problems.”

“You should be proud of her,” Tohro adds, nodding in agreement. “From what I’ve seen, she’d make fine Blackwing material.”

I’ve tried to be tolerant. I’ve tried to be reasonable. I’ve tried to cope. But now... I’ve heard enough. I inhale deeply, walk briskly past the two misfits and their sick mage, and exit the shop.

“Kids grow up so fast in this day and age, don’t they?” I hear Caro mutter as I slam the door.

I buck the anvil nearest the entrance, sending it careening off into the distance to hopefully ruin a Blackwing’s day.

~Vision end~

After a very brief and excruciating doze, Shae wakes on the bench inside the smithing shop, moaning as the sting from her leg pulses throughout her body and into her head, keeping her from seeing straight.

“Caro? Tohro? Where did you go?” she chokes out.

“They had some business to attend to with Jarl Drake, but don’t worry, lass. Y'all are in good hooves.” Rosemary waves a hoof in the air as she leans over an alchemy table. “I’m not normally the one to handle all this alca-matic mumbo jumbo. That’s Master Glasswork’s job, and she’s out shoppin'. I’ll do what I can, though.”

Rosemary sorts through several pouches of roots, berries, flora and fungi, trying to figure out what combination of ingredients will create some sort of healing solution. She eventually shrugs and slams every bag onto the alchemy table, losing a few cockatrice eggs to the wooden floor in the process. She carefully examines a scrap of paper littered with hastily scrawled notes, scanning it over several times, her expression growing more pathetically awkward with each pass.

“Let’s see, according to these instructions... I have no idea what I’m doing,” she says, tossing the parchment aside and hunching over the table. “So I’ll just toss all these things into a bowl and see what happens, eh?

Shae has another coughing fit as she struggles to sit upright. “Great plan, if you want to blow up the whole damn shop...” She slowly crawls from her sleeping bag and stumbles over to the table, where she collapses into Rosemary for support, drawing labored breaths. The room is spinning around her now, on top of the pain in her leg and the slow death working through her body. “First, we need three leaves of an elderberry bush mixed in with a tablespoon of goat milk.”

Rosemary nods and quickly grabs the ingredients, carefully stirring them together until they form a crimson liquid that reeks of an abandoned barn.

“Now,” Shae croaks, holding a hoof to her head, “add the powder from those mushrooms.” She points to the ergot laying among the clutter. “Just the powder. If any of the mushroom gets in the mix, I’ll have much more than an infection to worry about.”

Again, Rosemary does so without question.

“Let that sit for thirty seconds.”

“Blimey, that was all off the top of your head?” Rosemary wipes the sweat from her brow, releasing the breath she had been holding.

Shae does her best to look proud, but the tinge of green from her sickly face ruins the moment. “Don’t be too impressed. This is what Wintercolt Academy calls child’s play. I learned this on my first term.”

“Ah.” Rosemary nods and peeks at the potion in progress. It is now a steaming red sludge, which looks like it would do some serious damage to one’s liver, but Shae’s excitement assures Rosemary that this is normal. “Is it finished?”

The unicorn shakes her head as her horn becomes wrapped in her signature magenta aura. “Not quite.” The aura flickers out like a dying candle, prompting her to strike her muzzle with her own trembling hoof as another wave of nausea comes over her. “Damn skeevers and their poison...” She chokes back the potential for another accident, and musters a smile through her grimace. “Could you help me?”

Rosemary nods and holds the bowl of sludge to to Shae’s muzzle. As her eyes narrow at the substance, she purses her lips and spits. A small burst of pink smoke emanates from the completed antidote. “Fantastic! And somewhat odd,” says Rosemary. “Now, we just spread this on the wound-”

Shae shakes her head and dunks her muzzle into the bowl, greedily slurping until the bowl is completely cleaned of red.

"Well, I've seen stranger things..." Rosemary mutters.

The bitter potion leaves an aftertaste of rubber and old stockings, but the stinging in Shae’s leg is already wearing off. Unfortunately, she knows that while the infection will be cleansed from her body within the hour, her frail state will not.

“I’ll need at least a day to rest. If only I had thought to brew one of those back home...” She returns to the bench, letting out a well deserved sigh of relief. She then works the bandage upon her leg, ready to remove it and the infuriating itch it provides. Her horn is refusing to cooperate, only flickering its magenta light.

Rosemary chuckles. “Here, hon. Let me get that for ya.”

“Wait!- oh.” Shae lifts her head as the yellow earthwalker bites down on the loose end of the gauze and gives a good yank, revealing a dry and discolored hind leg. “It was much worse a few minutes ago,” Shae mutters, trying to quell Rosemary’s mortification. Her own thoughts liken the appearance to the draugr. She pulls the leg of her undergarments back over the sated wound. “So, you said you wanted to hear about Wintercolt Academy?”

Just like that, Rosemary eyes light up like a foal's on Hearth’s Warming Eve. “Yes, yes! I really do!”

“A unicorn enthusiast, are you?”

“I just find your kind so... fascinatin'! You can turn water into ice or make weapons appear out of thin air! Hell, you can tear your foes apart with your bloody mind!”

It has been some time since Shae has been this humbled. At the academy, a perfect mark on a test, written or otherwise, was the bare minimum for a pony with her talents. Now here is a mare impressed with the fact that there’s a unicorn sitting in front of her at all.

“It’s not quite as simple as that,” she states, trying to quell the new burning in her cheeks. “All forms of conventional magic have their limits. It’s all about equivalent exchange. We can only create as much ice as there is water, but we can’t create more water. Summoned weapons disappear moments after their creation, usually determined by the strength of the user's magic. That, and replicas are never as effective as the actual thing. As for the tearing ponies apart and stuff, well,” she chuckles weakly, “all of that is ill-advised, obviously.”

The factual onslaught does not dull Rosemary’s spirits. In fact, she seems more enraptured than bored.

Shae continues, not used to the fact that a pony would listen to her ramblings at all. “In a nutshell, magic is a science like any other field, not a miracle. Wintercolt Academy exists to teach young unicorns that much.”

“So, anypony can learn magic?” Rosemary’s ears perk at the thought.

Shae lets out another weak laugh, stretching her sore limbs as she lay on the bench. “There do exist ways for non-unicorns to perform spells. Alchemy, runes, talismans, artifacts. But the type of magic taught at Wintercolt is, unfortunately, limited to unicorns and their horns.”

The earthwalker shrugs. “I thought as much.”

“I don’t mean to brag, but I am the top student there. A personal protege to Headmaster Frosthelm and next in line to become the headmistress, I hope. Restoration magic such as healing wounds and repairing objects are my forte, though I’m also quite good at black magic. Er, offensive spells.”

"As skilled as you are beautiful, huh? So.. can I learn magic? The other kind?" Rosemary sounds hopeful, almost pleading. "If you be willin' to teach me that is."

Shae finds herself chuckling, then bursting out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just...” Shae catches her breath. “My roommate, Sundance. The poor dear always needs my help with even the simplest spells. I remember, during a blizzard, two winters ago, she couldn’t summon so much as a thimble’s worth of blue fire. It must have been midnight when she finally got a spark, then she conked out right there. I tucked her into bed, then I...” She looks away as she recalls snuggling in close next to her best friend, keeping them both warm.

“Hon, you’re tearing up,” says Rosemary.

Those tears are quickly wiped away. “I’m a little homesick, that’s all.”

“Can’t say I know the feeling. When I left the villa I never looked back.”

“Yes, that reminds me, I wanted to ask, what’s the cause of the tension between you and Tangerine?”

Rosemary scoffs with irritation and amusement. “Nothing, except that my mum expects me to stay home, watch over my siblings and the plants, and eventually get wedded off to some stranger in the north and reproduce like a bloody rabbit.” She raises her hoof as if giving a presentation to a crowd of upper class ponies. “As is earthwalker tradition.” She nickers. “All a bunch of dip, if you ask me. Traditions are made to be broken.”

“You have spirit, miss,” says Shae. “I’m a bit of an anti-traditionalist myself. I’m the first student in Wintercolt to pursue an extracurricular project outside of the school walls. Most are satisfied with a inventing a new spell or potion, but I’ve gone above and beyond.” She takes in a deep breath. “And... almost died. Three times.”

“Bloody hell!” Rosemary exclaims.

“It could have been worse,” she adds as an afterthought, recalling the helplessness she felt before letting a lightning spell loose on the bandit who had her bent over a rock. She would rather forget such a thing ever happened, but it just slipped.

Rosemary is absolutely appalled, and for once not in a good way. Shae pats her on the wither. “I knew the risks I would face when I left the school. For every cruel beast I face, I find at least two kind hearted ponies who would step in to save me. Take Caro and Tohro, for instance.”

“They’re, what, your dads?”

Shae shoots Rosemary a look of disgust, but then bursts into laughter again. “No... no! We’ve just become good friends in such a short amount of time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, they only saved my life! Not bad for a convicted murderer and a Blackwing, huh?” Her chuckles stop when she realizes what she just let slip. Did I just endanger Caro? His innocence is earned in my eyes, but to everypony else...

“Convicted murderer?” asks Rosemary, backing away slowly. Her eyes slowly widen. “By Hephaestus! I didn’t want to believe it. Is that the same Caro that destroyed Reinoc?”

“On false charges!” Shae doubts she has the ability to convince anypony of the truth. It’ll be difficult to outdo Otar. “I know this may be extraordinary to the point of insanity, but you have to trust me on this.”

The earthwalker tilts her head. “Okay...”

Shae looks Rosemary dead in the eye and speaks slowly. “Caro did not destroy Reinoc. It was a-”

The loud drawl of the town crier pierces the early morning air. “DRAAAAGOOOON!!”