“That’s it, get it all out,” Gale soothes, gently rubbing my back with one claw, while the other holds back my mane. “You are not a clever pony, are you?”

“I might—” My face flushes again as a surge of bile and what little food remaining in my stomach rises in my throat. Quickly, I force my face back to level with the toilet seat as the vile burst clears my lips. All I want to do right now is sob like the little filly I look like, but that would mean choking on my own vomit. Finally, as the last of my stomach contents empty themselves into the waste basin, I afford myself a sigh of relief. “I might have taken offense to that if I myself had not used those same words to describe myself in the past,” I wheeze morosely. “This shouldn’t be happening after just one bite of chicken. If it were food poisoning, you’d be sick too! It’s not fair.”

I look up at Gale with bloodshot eyes. She’s been here with me for the last half-hour—even when a crew of movers came in with our belongings—since the onset of nausea, and she’s been nothing but patient. “In retrospect, sharing the chicken probably wasn’t the best idea... Being an avian species, we aren’t particularly fond of eating other avians—there’s a lot of red tape surrounding the good meats—.” The griffon looks thoughtful as she fills a glass of water before passing it to me. “We use certain seasonings to make it more palatable for us. They don’t all work out well with ponies.

“Story goes that a griffon thane was hosting some pony dignitaries, but all of his foods, even those lacking meat were seasoned with a particular spice that he favored—a blend of a dried paste of groundcherries and salt.” She watches me as I down the glass of water. Once I’ve finished, I pass the glass back to her before laying on my side on the tiled floor of the restroom. “The ponies enjoyed the food quite well, almost to the point of intoxication, but an hour after eating, they became violently ill. The thane realized that, though the ponies lived, they did not take well to to the spice, and ordered his kitchen staff to only use the spice on the meals of visiting ponies he wanted to be rid of. I don’t know if the story is true, but for griffons, the spice is a rather popular seasoning for chicken.”

“That explains that then,” I reply dryly, feeling my stomach clench once more. “Magical griffon spices keep me from eating one of the best meats around.”

Gale looks at me pointedly, before apologetically shaking her head. “Let’s get you into bed; you’ll feel better if you rest.” She slides a claw beneath me in order to help me up, but I shrug off her assistance after I’m on my own four hooves. In spite of my impetuous rejection of her help, she remains by my side until I reach the bed. “I’ll leave a glass of water near your bed for you. Try to get some sleep.”

Drawing my blanket over myself once more, I nod appreciatively at her. “Thanks for being here,” I whisper, gazing at her through half-lidded eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for making a scene. You’ll probably get a lot of flak for associating with me, now.”

I hear an amused snort escape her nostrils, before she speaks. “Nah, you didn’t do anything bad. I mean, yeah, we might get more guff from some toadies, but most ponies won’t mess with griffons.” She even allows herself an amused chortle as she makes her way across the room. “I don’t think too many ponies will mess with the terrible meat-eating mare. We could even call you Deimos, just to mess with them.”

Nuzzling my pillow, I can’t resist giggling. Gale is definitely an individual I can get along with. “Do all griffon dishes contain that spice?” I ask, wearily. “I kind of like the idea of being some sort of boogeymare... It coincides with something Clear’s been telling me... to be truer to who I am.”

I hear the depression of bedsprings on the opposite side of the room. “I’m sure we can get you some jerky or a pork chop. Tell ya what; I’ll slip you some of my bacon at breakfast,” she replies. “Now go to sleep.” Switching to a firmer tone, she says, “Lights dim.” Almost instantly, the dim light radiating from the crystal light-sources cuts out completely, dropping the room into darkness.

Not quite asleep, I’m left alone in the darkness to reflect upon the day. It is not unexpected that I feel incredibly mixed about today’s events. On the one hoof, I’ve alienated myself on two fronts. First, I have essentially pissed in the faces of the nobles. That in itself is going to make ponies incredibly unwilling to associate with me, since they are going to be fearful that the nobility will do something to them. I suppose it’s only fair though. The power of money is far reaching, and a noblepony can probably make a commoner’s life into Tartarus itself.

It certainly doesn’t help, then, that I was so excited by the thoughts of once again tasting meat—real meat, and not just some damned fish—that I didn’t bother thinking of the consequences. I let myself go moist between the haunches over a piece of chicken, and what do I have to show for it now? Everything I ate is now sitting in whatever amounts to a Canterlot sewer, and I’m almost wishing I’d died from it instead of lying here feeling sick. Luna preserve me! The other pony students probably fear me, if the Mares of Thrace legend is relatively the same here.

On the other hoof, look at how far I’ve come. Instead of living off of the goodwill of a friend and her mother, I’m here at the university, with my first day of class tomorrow! I’m one step closer to my dream, each day being another step. If all goes well, I could even be half-way there by the summer trimester. At the very least, I’ll have a better idea of how much further I have to go.

Not only that, but I’ve made a friend with a griffon—three griffons, I hope. Even if Aqua Regia and her noble cronies do cause me trouble, Gale seems like the type to stand up for her friends. I don’t know how regular Equestrians think, but if a griffon got up in my face, I would probably curl up in a ball and piss myself. She’s just so stable, and nice—like Twilight Velvet knew that Gale was exactly the kind of roommate I need.

Alas, even an overactive mind such as mine cannot fight off the grip of proper sleep for long. Soon, it is just me, my pillow, and dreams of bacon dancing upon my bed. I just hope Luna isn’t watching me tonight... I really don’t want to have to explain myself. Well, I don’t care one way or another, I just don’t think she’d approve.

In the midst of brushing my mane in front of my new desk, I’m interrupted by a knock at the door. With a glance at the clock, the question of who could be visiting at half past seven in the morning crosses my mind. It isn’t Gale, since she’s holed up in the bathroom right now, and I highly doubt it’s room service either. Who then, could it be?

“Just a moment,” I wearily answer. I may not have a mirror handy, but I’m sure I’m at least presentable right now. Honestly, the bath is probably what did the most good for my appearance, so I shouldn’t look like shit right now, even if I still feel it.

Removing the brush from a strap on my hoof, I quickly discard it on the desk with the rest of the school-unrelated belongings that I removed from the saddlebag. Fighting back a massive yawn, my hooves lead me toward the door. Turning and pulling on the knob, I can’t help but frown at the lack of locks in the dorms. It would be so easy for a pervert or an assassin to get in here.

“Oh! Good morning, Mrs. Velvet.” Opening door reveals the dorm’s supervisor. The mare honestly looks kind of distressed—her face contorted into an uncomfortable grimace. “How can I help you this morning?”

“I regret to inform you, Silver,” she begins, clearly not liking what she has to say. “You have been summoned to the Chancellor’s office. There have been some disturbing accusations made against you, which, should they prove true, may result in your expulsion. The accusations are grave enough that a ranking member of the Guard has been summoned for this meeting.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Covering my face with a hoof, I moan to myself, “It’s too early in the morning for this shit.” I glance back at my table, sizing up my saddlebag. “Mind if I bring by saddlebag? I get the impression that it’ll be too late for me to grab it before class by the time this is over.”

The elder mare’s grimace softens into a slightly amused yet annoyed look. She actually looks like she’s contemplating admonishing my confident optimism, but says nothing on the matter. Instead she simply replies, “As long as you are quick about it.”

Wow, she really isn’t kidding about this being serious. While she’s never seemed the playful type, I have never seen her agitated to the degree of terseness. Hurriedly, I trot back over to my desk to grab my bags before joining Velvet in the hallway. I almost want to leave a note for Gale, telling her that I won’t be joining her for breakfast, but it’s pretty clear that this is serious.

Faced with no other choice, I follow the mare down the corridor and up out of the dormitory. Upon exiting Sagittarius Hall, she leads me out of the grand atrium and along a walkway lined with fanciful flutterpony statuettes. Our path takes us around many of the curious buildings on the campus before finally leading me to what looks like a small greenhouse sitting in front of the base of the impossibly standing lollipop-like building.

The greenhouse is nothing spectacular. You can’t even see the inside from out here, like it’s made from the same one-way glass used in police stations. If that is the dean’s office, it’s... something else. Kinda creepy really, but it isn’t like I have much of a choice on the matter.

Pushing the door open, Twilight Velvet pokes her head in to speak. “Chancellor Modest, I have Silver Script here to see you, as requested.”

“Very good, thank you,” a posh voice replies from within. “Send her in please.”

Turning to me, Velvet gives me a knowing look. “In you go,” she says. As I move past, she leans in closely to say, “If you have indeed done no wrong, as your attitude suggests, I dare say the representative of the Guard will be sympathetic.”

I don’t have an opportunity to inquire as to her meaning, for the moment I cross the door’s threshold, the opening seals itself. Instead, I’m left facing two large white unicorns. The first is of course the ochre-maned Chancellor Modest, who I remember clearly for his long sermon yesterday, sitting behind a large rosewood desk with a scowl on his face. I can only assume that his full name is Modest Pants or something of the such. The stallion is literally the spitting image of Fancypants.

The identity of the other stallion isn’t immediately obvious because of his officer’s regalia and helmet. It’s only after I take in the uncomfortable stare of the stallion that I realize that Prince Shining Armor is reprising his duties as a Captain of the Guard while Cadance is in Canterlot for the duration of her pregnancy.

“Miss Script,” Modest asks, steepling his hooves before him. “Do you know why you are here here this morning?”

I give Shining Armor a barely perceptible nod before looking the stallion in the eyes. “I have an idea of where the truth of the situation lies,” I reply in a measured tone. “Of the accusations that have been made, I haven’t the slightest.”

The stallion gives me only a raised eyebrow as he contemplates this. He mutters something beneath his breath that sounds suspiciously like the word interesting, before levitating a sheet of paper before him. “You stand accused of bullying, sedition, treason, and crimes against nature.”

You would think that hearing charges like those, you would be surprised on all counts, but the only ones that actually surprise me are the treason and sedition accusation. How do you even get those from anything that I’ve said or done in the last twenty-four hours? “Sedition? Treason?” I answer in a clear tone of confusion. “What?”

“Yesterday evening, we received a complaint from one of your fellow students, insisting that you bullied her in the middle of the dining room in front of all of your fellow students, making several seditious remarks regarding her lineage, before finally committing a treason against the crown by partaking in the flesh of an animal and laughing.” He gives me a flat look before returning his gaze to the paper “This is also the crime against nature listed in the complaint.”

A glance at the Prince off to the side reveals that Shining Armor has turned slightly green at the mention of a pony eating meat. “Given the severity of these charges, we feel there is no other course of action other than your immediate expulsion and remanding you into the custody of the Royal Guard pending trial.”

“WHAT?” I shout as my hind legs give out beneath me. My voice reverberates loud enough in the room to be a reasonable facsimile of the royal canterlot voice; why else would a glass vibrate across the great rosewood desk? “I’m sorry, but what? I’m to be given no chance to defend myself?”

“There were several witnesses to corroborate her statement,” Chancellor Modest replies. “I see no reason to tarry on such frivolities.”

“Prince Shining Armor, please!” I turn my pleading eyes upon him. “You know me to be better than this. What would a ward of the crown pose to gain from ‘treason and sedition’? For that matter, would Her Majesty Princess Celestia entrust such a corrupting influence with her most cherished and faithful student?”

The Prince furrows his brow in thought. A long moment passes before shaking his head. “You wouldn’t have anything to gain,” he replies. “Twilight said that you lost everything after what happened last year. I don’t believe you would be that foolish.”

“The rules are clear! She needs to be expelled!” Modest slams his hooves on the desk, causing a sound of rattling bits to come from within the desk. The stallion catches himself and sucks in a heavy breath before continuing. “What would you have me do? There are too many corroborating statements against her, and surely she would say anything to get out of being expelled!”

“My Prince, surely the Royal Guard has methods for getting the truth out of seas of deceit,” I whimper, shrinking in on myself. “A truth ward, a lie detection spell, anything?”

Again, Shining Armor furrows his brow. “There is a spell that permits interrogators to enter the minds of suspects, and relive memories through their eyes” he answers, shifting anxiously on the spot. “It is, however, very invasive and can cause mental scarring if used incorrectly.”

I brighten up slightly, clapping my hooves slightly. “Yes! Do that! If you need my consent, you have it!” I reply eagerly. “The sooner we can get this all cleared up, the sooner I can go back to class.”

Fifteen minutes, an invaded sense of privacy, two vomiting stallions, and a solved problem later, I’m left making my way to the building housing the Alchemy Fundamentals classroom. Thankfully, the building is far closer to the atrium and the dorms than it is to Chancellor Modest’s office. I even have enough time to hit the cafeteria and get a snack, although I think better of it.

The whole time I spend trotting among the other students in the hallways, I can’t help but think back to how I dissuaded Shining Armor and the Chancellor from the crimes against nature accusation. Once I had explained the nature of my species of origin, the fact that just because herbivores are still capable of consuming meat, and that I only ate what was served in the cafeteria, there wasn’t anything that they could hold against me... except the fact that I willfully choose to eat meat as a pony. Even then, that’s a personal choice, and not necessarily any more a crime against nature than my being a pony.

The university buildings, it seems, are all sectioned by year, subject matter, and threat-class. The guidebook sitting in my saddlebag explains that a building will always host subjects of a similar nature. Higher threat-classes—those arts that have destructive potential—are segregated into secure locations, with the lollipop-shaped ‘Wizard’s Tower’ housing the most dangerous studies of arcane arts.

Thankfully, the interior of the building is not at all like the general layout of Canterlot. Things are all laid out with meticulous logic. The far wing is dedicated to the three first-year alchemy courses. Even now, trotting past the medicine wing—convenient, being right next to the wing were accidental poisonings are likely to occur—I can see the door to the Alchemical Safety classroom.

That isn’t the one I want, though. I’m not in there until I’m certified in the Fundamentals. It’s an interesting thing, the curriculum layout. Instead of multiple courses each day, you get a few hours daily in a classroom for a week or two, until you pass examination on the subject. Once you are certified, you can go on to the next level of study. I’m not sure if it is to fit the curriculum better into the trimester, but Introduction to Potions is definitely the longest of the three courses in the trimester.

Finally, I come upon the door I’m searching for—Alchemy Fundamentals. Already I can hear the conversation of students not yet reined in by a professor. Eagerly, I nose the classroom door open, and all conversation stops. Every eye in the lecture hall turns to face me as I enter, and then the whispering begins. Each desk here in the hall is occupied by a pony that was present in the communal cafeteria last night.

In spite of it all, I’m somehow not the least bit shocked that Aqua Regia sitting in the back of the hall, surrounded by a few suck-ups. Even as I calmly pick my way to an empty seat near the middle of the room, my eyes never leave the conniving ‘royal’. The expression on her face, despite obvious attempts to keep a calm look about her, says it all. She’s shocked that I’m still here, angry about it, and trying her best to look innocent. The eyes give it all away.

Pulling up a seat in the corner of the room nearest the professor’s desk and lectern—kind of necessary when you’re the uncontested shortest pony in the room—I place some parchment, an inkwell and a quill before me. After patiently waiting a few more minutes for the class to begin, a pure-white unicorn of unarguable antiquity enters the classroom. His beard and eyebrows literally remind me of a the haircut given to a schnauzer.

“Good morning, students! I am Professor Calcification, and this is Alchemy Fundamentals,” the elderly stallion says joyously in a raspy voice. As he speaks, he levitates a stick of chalk against the massive blackboard behind him, writing out Alchemy Fundamentals and underlining it by extending the final letter. “By the end of this course, you will be expected to know all of the six basic substances found in common ingredients and how they interact, the four substances that alter properties of alchemical reactions, the effects of alchemical toxicity...”

Author's Notes:

Alright, nothing too fancy to say here. The alchemy of this story is largely based on the potion- oil- and bomb-making involved in the Witcher, as well as referencing in name the four stages named in the 'The Great Work'. I'll be touching on relevant bits of theory in exposition, but at the same time, I will not go out of the way to write endless paragraphs of explanation as a means of padding the story. This is, after all, a story about the student of the subject ant not the subject itself. Importance will always be placed more on how it is used rather than how it works.

Again, I owe E3gner and NightmareKnight my thanks in editing this chapter.