Destiny's Call: The tales of a foreigner in a familiar land

by Zenith Starwalker

I'm willing to bet that a lot of Bronies would love to visit the land of Equestria; if only to see it. I sorta got that wish... instead I find myself in a human variant of it known as Arcania. Not that I'm complaining of course, the day I got raptured over here was a college day anyway. (My apologies for some chapters lacking the pictures described in the story, they didn't import)

33. Plenipotentiaries and Princesses

Chapter 33: Plenipotentiaries and Pertinacious Princesses

My eyes fluttered together as a ray of sunlight lanced into them from between a breach in the lustrous blue velvet curtains that cordoned off the balcony. I sluggishly rolled to the side and groaned irritably to myself about the luridness of Celestia's 'Thermonuclear Familiar' as I sat up to arch my spine and form a Y shape with my arms, exulting in the satisfying cracks and pops that accompanied that. I unleashed a gaping yawn in the process of stretching; reveling in the heady lavender scent of the mattress and cushions in the cozy little bed alcove that Twilight's repeated usage had essentially imbued into them.

I liked this tower. I had come to appreciate the faint, slightly musty smell of old fashioned, inked paper on the air, the cool breeze that carried in from the open atmosphere of the upper atrium, and especially the view of both sprawling mountain city and fertile valley plains below. I was tempted to make it my own personal permanent residence at the castle, but I did not wish to usurp Twilight of the tower library slash abode where she had dwelt as Celestia's student, and it was not like I regularly stayed in this tower that often either. In spite of the studious girl's longstanding absence, the palace maids had kept the place well maintained, clean, and free of dust and cobwebs. So it was safe to assume that it could and would be reused by her at any time.

Magiville may have been Twilight's true home now, but she had never forgotten nor neglected her roots here.

I was somewhat crestfallen by this idle musing of mine, albeit not distraught by it. Dismissing these dreary contemplations, I proceeded to engage in my post-waking morning routine of splashing my face with icy water, gargling some delectable spearmint mouthwash, taking a piping hot shower, and indulging in a spritz of that masculine scented teakwood-mahogany cologne; for today was a special day that warranted it. I was not so lacking in refinement as to overlook treating Hearth's Warming Day with the deference it deserved, Christmas analog or no.

Once that was completed, I got dressed in my replacement set of robes that were crafted from unique materials. And yes, the irony of wearing clothing made from the silks of creatures that I was… wary of was not lost on me. These robes shared the same stylish, understated, elegant design as the previous set, but this version was updated with the hardy, yet flexible Earth-Spinster Silk. Moreover, the silk itself was so insanely receptive to magic that it gave me the impression that it could hold a thousand distinct enchantments on it and have plenty of room to spare. I had yet to fully test that impression, but based on the Princesses' well-versed opinion, this was indeed a wondrous material that they themselves had expressed copious interest in. The newly remade robes had arrived punctually and with record rapidity on Rarity's part, with an attached note from the tireless seamstress mentioning that working on a design that she made previously was child's play, though there was some accompanying mandatory complaining affixed to it about how 'dull my headstrong insistence on keeping my robe's aesthetic motif unchanged was'.

Troublesome woman… if I want my outfit's appearance to change, I'll damn well enchant it to change!

I scoffed upon reading that. Rarity was a nigh peerless fashionista, even in a land overbrimming with talent, but she emphatically didn't subscribe to the concept of 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' when it came to haute couture. There was also a steamily written postscript thanking me for 'A most thoughtful and dazzling gift' that I won't mention the particulars of. But I will say that Rarity had a hidden penchant in passionate poetry that could inspire even those with a Mana Mark specializing in it.

Rarity was not the only one of the Element Wielders to keep in touch with me during my stay in the Capital. There were regular follow up letters from Fluttershy regarding Prissy's status, her health and mood, and how well the puckish Manticore was settling in with her. Those were always cosigned with the chimera's crinkly paw print on the backside, which was a strangely stirring gesture from the oddly friendly, unnatural killing machine. Applejack's letters were short and to the point, which could best be summed up as: "When are y'all gonna be back?" Pinkie's letters were an exercise in deciphering how it was possible to cram three pound's worth of candies, confetti, messy toddler drool marks, and heartfelt words into a handheld envelope without using magic (The kind that I knew of, anyway) to reinforce the seams. Twilight's letters were subdued and stiff, with the meticulously written passages conveying a sense of 'walking on eggshells' around me even in her quillwork. Those made me frown, both at her timorousness and my own stubbornness in avoiding a true heart-to-heart meeting that we would undoubtedly need to have.

I was not cool with what she did to me, but nor was I going to hold it over her head like a guillotine.

From Rainbow Dash I received naught but silence. I would normally think nothing of it, since Rainbow was hardly the 'I miss you' letter writing type of gal, but her sheer taciturnity nagged at my deeper instincts. Her friends surely would have encouraged her to keep in correspondence with me, and to thank me for my Hearth's Warming gift to each of them, as they had done, but such was not the case here.

I hoped that I was only overthinking it, but my paranoia had served me well in the past, and it would behoove me to heed it now.

It was as I finished rereading the notes from the girls with an imperceptible curl to my lips that there was a carefully patterned knock on the door (which was to convey coded messages to those in the know. This one signaled a royal summoning) to the tower. A fancy, folded, filigreed notecard was slipped in through the doorjamb, succeeded by dainty steps echoing down the spiral stairs of the tower. I manually dried off some of the residual moisture in my hair with a towelette as I scanned the contents of the notecard. It was an official summons to the dining hall, signed by both Royal Sisters and was even enclosed by the wax, Yin and Yang style Sun and Moon that was one of the Royal Sisters' Official Seals. Apparently I was being formally 'commanded' to spend Hearth's Warming morning with the Royal Family. What? Did they think I was going to skip out on them, on their version of Christmas day no less? The absolute nerve of them!

Actually… that meant I had to accompany them to boring holiday functions like pageants and plays for the overall public, and palace ceremonies for the nobility, so perchance they were just covering their bases? I know I would take a rain check on those bore fests given half the chance.

A quick digestion of the note's words and I frowned. It referenced the Royal Family as a single unit, which encompassed its entirety when it came to its accounted members. The Royal Family included Blueblood (by technicality), and while I would readily admit that the erstwhile spoiled prince was steadily improving himself when it came to his attitude and his treatment of others, he was making an exhausted snail's pace in progress at proving his propitiation to the people that he wronged. For some reason the foppish man preferred that I shadow him on his many 'penance expeditions' as he named them. Mostly they were just dry, if somewhat amusing, junkets to residences in the city where his former companions of the fairer sex lived.

The outcomes of these trips were what one could expect from the many victims of Blueblood's misconduct. Generally, the women in question either accepted his apologies with grace but justifiably articulated no desire to resume contact (which was an understandable sentiment), outright ignored him and or slammed the door in his face (rude, but still understandable), or even react in entertaining ways that made the boredom of 'holding his hand' worthwhile. I let my mind drift to one such memory with a fond smirk.

⁂

The residence of Frost Comet was not one of those upscale neighborhoods where the old blood of the city spent egregious amounts of money to lavishly design every teensy aspect of their homes to be a reflective statement of their fabulous wealth and pedigree. In fact, it was a simple townhome style complex not entirely unlike what my modest Cellist girlfriend had going for her, before I had formally acquired her Royal Apartments at the palace for her continued safety, that is. It was located on the northeastern side of the city, in a Fall-side Sub-district. Hers was the model townhome that had a view of the airships that puttered lazily on by as they made their way to and from the docking platforms, hauling all sorts of cargo from Arcania's cities to bring to the city market. Unsurprisingly, there was a greater concentration of imports coming into the city lately than exports going out, as the majority of people in this city had coins burning holes in their sizable pockets and it was nearing Hearth's Warming Day.

Arcanian consumerism was alive and well in Concordia.

"Ah, we've arrived" Blueblood announced, disguising himself in public in a way that I thought was likelier to attract attention than his typical princely outfits.

Who in their right mind wore a white velvet bowler strapped with goggles, a red, swallow-tailed, buttoned jacket over a black brocaded vest, and yellow and midnight blue striped pants paired with a peppermint swirl walking cane? Blueblood was either misdirecting people by pretending to be a Steampunk Willy Wonka, or nobody had taught him the definition of subtlety and how to apply it to his life. His outrageously colorful apparel soundly defeated the whole purpose of going incognito. That we took a royal carriage here only compounded the problem, and gossipy whispers and pointed fingers from onlookers followed us everywhere we went. Persuading the prince to do otherwise was an exercise in raw futility, for habits developed over a lifetime, be they good or bad, did not simply dissipate overnight. Oh, but how the price of redeeming once insufferable people was lofty indeed.

"Indeed, we have" I gestured to the unadorned door of Frost Comet's townhome, "Care to do the honors?"

Blueblood coughed nervously, "Of course! This… this should be simple… except…" He then began to grow pale, "Uh… what was her name again?"

I quirked an incredulous eyebrow, "Seriously, Blue? We came all this way and you don't even have the decency to remember her name?"

"It isn't as if I did forget the names of every woman I did grave insult!" He denied defensively, "It's just… it's just that I am expressly ashamed to admit that I have for this one"

I disliked babysitting this man, "It's Frost Comet. Remind me, what did you do wrong with this one?" I deadpanned with minor annoyance. Each of Blueblood's mistakes with women were like a major disaster writ small. If he wrote a book on what not to do when dating people below your social station, I'm sure it would become a bestseller.

"All I am willing to say is that… she made an inadequate shield against getting splashed by carriages on a rainy day, and that her slight frame meant that some of the muck on the streets got through to me anyways, so I had to cut our one date short in order to change into some fresh clothes. I may have… also left the bill to the restaurant we lunched at for her to take care of, beforehand" He admitted with a wince.

Ooof.

"Old habits really do die hard it seems" I muttered to myself, "Didn't you do something like that to Rarity once?" I calculatingly prodded him.

He had the grace to be abashed at the reminder, "I know now, I know! It's rude to do that to people! But I was merely looking out for my immaculate image. A Prince like myself must maintain his image, after all!" He fussed defensively, fingers automatically tugging at his lapels.

"Not at the expense of another's dignity, and certainly not a Lady's dignity, at that" I pointed out the colossal flaw in his argument, "Good going, Blue"

He squirmed uncomfortably, "I recall that her face had an… adverse reaction to my abrupt departure" He made to turn around, "Maybe we should put this one off for a-"

I promptly knocked on the door in the motif of 'Shave and a Haircut'.

"Whoops…" I unrepentantly monotoned as the blood drained from Bluey's face.

He glanced at me with that 'How could you?' betrayed expression before he wrestled his features into that trained, professional blankness that was expected of politically active nobility, given his position as one of the five members on the intra-governmental Parliamentary Council. There was a moment of waiting until the locks to the door were unlatched and a slender, comely woman with a petite, aristocratic face, high cheekbones, long, rosy locks of hair, and a teardrop shaped pink diamond Gem on her forehead peered out from the crack.

Blueblood was an utter moron if he blew his prospects with this smoke show of a woman.

"Yes? How may I help you?" She directed at me, despite me deliberately standing off and to the side of the prince. I wanted to scoff. I was in my worn and battered robes, and yet I was the more eye-catching of the two of us. I suppose I should have been flattered?

Blueblood manned up, "Excuse me" He got her attention, "Frost Comet? You might not remember me, but-"

Frost Comet's magenta eyes became like dinner plates that had been set on fire once she registered the man beside me, "YOOUU!" She shrieked, disappearing inside with a scampered pattering of hasty footfalls, inattentively leaving the door ajar in her haste.

"Well… so far her response matches that of some of the others" Blueblood commented hopefully, "Mayhaps it won't be so bad?"

The irate woman returned not half a minute later to crush that hope with a rubbish bin overflowing with biodegradables, used feminine care items, rotted fruit leavings, and other… unmentionables. She proceeded to pelt Blueblood with its contents, screeching like a banshee in an incomprehensible, high-pitched, alien language that only truly enraged females were fluent in.

"I-" Bluey was interrupted by an apple core to the face, "wanted to-" He dodged leftover spaghetti, "apologize for-" He ducked a… soiled feminine hygiene product, "my inappropriate behavior the last we met!"

Frost Comet's glare could have curdled fresh milk, "Apologize?" She hissed, though she paused in her trashy onslaught, "You think a measly apology can erase the shame you caused me? Do you know how many jokes I have been made the butt of? How quickly my circle of friends deserted me once you abandoned and humiliated me… in one of the most public places possible? Any respect I once had in this city has been destroyed. My dreams of becoming one of the social elite are in ruins!"

It was sorta disturbing how closely her predicament mirrored Rarity's. They both wanted to hobnob it up with those of elevated social standing, only to realize that those in the upper rungs of society made metaphorical mockery of those in the lower zoo. Personally I did not understand what the point of being a socialite in this city was. Clearly Frost Comet's so called 'friends' weren't worth the energy to label them that, if they had ditched her like they did. It seemed to me that Blueblood perceived this weakness, and took advantage of it to add another attractive woman to his list of conquests. That Frost Comet lost face from cavorting with him was an unfortunate happenstance. People tended to talk in this town, and the gossip surrounding Blueblood's ill-fated dates was the local equivalent of those disreputable paparazzi magazines stalking the lives of the famous or well off. That Blueblood himself rarely received flak for his antics demonstrated how shallow people were in this country too.

"I know, I know… But I have turned over a new leaf, I swear it!" The man attempted to placate her, to no avail.

She ignored him, "And to think how 'honored' I was when the magnificent Prince Blueblood was to be my gentleman caller. Well…" Her eyes narrowed into slits, "allow me to honor you like you did for me!"

She stomped towards him and upended the bin over his head before he could evade, vindictively submerging him in foul smelling waste material. Blueblood articulated a choked, horrified gasp that was strangled by the potent stench that assaulted both of our nostrils. I kind of regretted having such an advanced sense of smell as of right then. Sure, it was enhanced enough to make a bloodhound jealous, but I smelled that much more intensely as a result. The sour odor of so many mixed articles of garbage was virtually punching me in the nose. I had to credit him though; Blueblood stood there and took his punishment like a man, or perhaps he was too shocked to do anything besides whimper and tremble as the juices of the garbage soaked into his motley attire.

"And thus I refute thee, My Prince, now and forevermore!" She spat, literally, at the dejected bachelor. Before she held her nose up, gave a feminine 'hummph!', and executed a crisp about-face rotation as she stalked indoors, the door to her humble abode shutting with deceptive placidity with her magic.

I deliberately leaned over to sniff the man, who was absolutely slathered in refuse and shaking like a loose twig, either from being chastened or in sorrow at having his act of contrition rebuffed wholesale.

"Jeez! Some of that garbage is pretty ripe" I commented drolly, pinching my nostrils shut, "Methinks she had been saving it up for just such an occasion. You certainly know how to pick 'em, Bluey"

"She rejected my apology with… rather… puerile vigor" The discouraged prince whispered sulkily, "Will all the others be like this?"

'Damn, Blueblood's sad puppy impression is all but spot on' I thought to myself. Despite myself, I pitied the poor fool.

"Hey…" I spoke genuinely as I laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, absently brushing off a slimy banana peel, "What matters is that you made the effort. You acknowledged your faults and offered to make things right. If she refuses to give you a chance to do so, then that's on her. You've played your role here to satisfaction"

I glanced at the reminder list that he had written for him by Noble Note (a cousin of Noteworthy, whom he granted an extended leave of absence as recompense for being such a terrible master for all of five years, which was coincidentally the longest anyone had ever put up with serving him), observing that he still had a ways to go as far as spurned lovers went.

"Yeessh, Blueblood. You're barely a quarter of the way done and you've still got a couple dozen potentially furious women left to make amends with. You were quite the active bachelor, weren't you?" I remarked cheekily.

His face colored a rosy shade, "Yes, well" He cleared his throat, "I cannot continue being refused while covered in refuse. Let us adjourn this session for now" He became pensive, "Why don't we get a drink somewhere in one of the leisure districts after I spruce myself up? My treat, naturally. What say you?" The prince proposed, a winsome grin adorning his features.

I grinned back at him, "Now you're talking"

I still was not the drinking type (especially after Berry Punch and her libations brewed in hell hammered that point home, even if it did help me finalize my relationship with Lyra), but it was the thoughtfulness of the offer that counted.

⁂

I chuckled to myself as the memory passed. That was one of the better misadventures yet. Blueblood had declared a short hiatus from his tours of penitence after that lil' episode that I could not entirely fault him for. What was important was that the effort was being made. I flash evaporated the moisture clinging to the towelette, folded it, and returned it to its rack. Feeling refreshed and ready to face the world, I exited the tower and made my way down the spiraling staircase. The chilly winter air was bracing as it filled my lungs. Incidentally, it was nearing the end of the month and with a new year around the corner, the local weather teams saw fit to milk the seasonal weather for all it was worth. Snow dusted the surface in thin sheets that were somehow custom tailored so that they did not become a slippery slush on the roads that would present a hazard to foot and hoof traffic. The weather manipulation abilities that all Valkyrians inherently shared were a fascinating subject that I had just recently begun incorporating into my move set.

Valkyrian magic was passively oriented, in a similar manner to Agrarian magic and juxtaposed to the actively oriented Stellar Mage magic. It was of course inaccurate to speak of a Clan's magic as if it was separate and wholly unalike from the others. It was, but in the way that gaseous water was distinct from liquid water, which itself was distinct from solidified water. Different expressions of the same base potentials. One thing I noticed about Valkyrian magic was that it made channeling the classical fundamental constituents like fire, water, air, lightning, and others significantly easier than if I was relying on active channeling like a Stellar Mage's Spell for fire bolts. When I combined the two methods, it was like commanding the might of nature itself with but a thought. With the straightforwardness of a Skyborn's natural elemental affinity, and the raw power of a Mage's charged spell, it was a force to be reckoned with.

Such was its forcefulness that I cautiously trained with it until I had perfected my control, lest I unintentionally unleash something destructive like a tornado instead of a mere whirlwind while testing out the feats that I could perform with it. It was undoubtedly a High Tier magical technique in both complexity and potency, if not Arch Tier given that there were but a handful of Trifects with the reserves that could achieve it and overcharge it.

It would have been a mystery of magic that eluded me like countless others had it not been for another benefit of the Earth Lord Mantle being conferred to me. With the lightest application of Will, I could see the magic in everything in its every form, blowing every other means of viewing it out of the water. Magic was undeniably beautiful, like a cascade of colors, sounds, and sensations both known and unknown that scintillated, sparkled, and danced like a million, billion motes of light. It had subtle nuances to it as well when I concentrated on specific things, like the magically formed snow appearing slow and even static in the case of ice with a bluish white tinting.

This world was so saturated with resonating thaumaturgical energy that it boggled the mind how I could differentiate between its multitudinous expressions with that much data to be processed, what with it permeating everything. But somehow my newfound vision managed, and managed spectacularly at that. Previously for me it was like teaching a blind person how to tell the differences between hues in a painting, whereas now I perceived the very chemicals in the paint itself. Like Earth-sight, it was a tool that I would be using extensively in the future. Already this gift had inspired me with ideas on how to augment my considerable abilities and spell repertoire further.

I had tentatively designated it Wizard-Vision until such an occasion arose that I could come up with a classier, better fitting name for it. After all, no one else as far as I knew could see what I saw without melting their brain, or briefly becoming one with Magic itself, as it was with the Elements of Harmony.

Such preternatural influence in this realm should have scared me to my soul, should have frightened that woolgathering part of me that remembered being ordinary and more concerned with education and maybe working a meaningless nine to five job than being chosen to combat some eldritch evil and safeguard a world that was simultaneously both familiar and foreign to my eyes. A cynically philosophical person that would assert that no human being could wield such powers as I did and not let it go to their head. But what would have nagged at the hearts of others merely spurred me on. Power in itself did not corrupt… it was the temptation of what one could do with such power and succumbing to that temptation that did, to believe oneself free of consequences, to act as they would without consideration of themselves and others… that was where the true danger lay.

The ability to shed the limits that weighed a person down like an invisible ball and chain, to transcend that which restrained me before, was unequaled. To put it simply… where an ordinary man had an ultimatum presented to him, I had options. Even now I could not fit into words how liberating that was for me, to function on a level that could conservatively be described as that of a demigod, with room for ascension. I would not ever apply such a label to myself, certainly, for I kept to one God and would use that fact to remind myself to never stray from my path, nor from my purpose. I would remain faithful to my ideals and to myself, jaded jackass that I was.

I reached the end of the stairs, thoughts of all kinds of cool techniques involving the classical elements and spell tinkering pervading my mind. Not in any rush to heed the summons, and partly to annoy the princesses for having the gall to reduce themselves by summoning me and partly because the note did not state an exact time for me to be there, I walked almost absently through the castle courtyards. The castle grounds were active as always, with patrolling guards that greeted me cordially in passing and visitors that had arrived early in anticipation for the pageantry that the Crown would be hosting within the castle's halls. Deciding to take a short detour to the western side where the sculpture gardens were, I stopped at one statue in particular that had been judiciously hidden away in the hedge maze, ensconced from the others. At first glance, this statue seemed to be like the others in the garden, but those who were in the know or could discern the truth from careful observation would not be deceived.

A golden placard on the statue's plinth labeled it the 'Despondent Woman', and indeed, the named figure resembled a woman bowing her head forlornly, tears frozen midstream down her cheeks. The woman was remarkably detailed. Everything was apparent to those that espied her, from the wrinkles in her clothes, the lines on her flesh, the unevenness of her nails, the unkemptness of her hair, to the creases on her forehead. And there was no mistaking that face, distorted by grief though it was. The events of that night had been burned into my memory forever, and it was only the positive outcome that stopped me from doing to it what Blueblood did to his erstwhile monument to narcissism. Twisted as it was, Marvelous Melody was now serving both her sentence of solitary confinement and public service at the same time… and most people did not even know it. I stared at that statue, as unmoving as it was, while I recalled the last conversation that I had with the would be murderer that was now on collective display, in silent warning to the follies of jealousy and spite.

⁂

Officially, Concordia's Royal Castle did not have a dedicated dungeon. It would be adverse to the image of peaceful, benevolent rulership that Celestia had spent the larger portion of a millennium cultivating in her subjects. That did not mean that the city itself was without jails for the rowdy, if not harmless, troublemakers that every city had, but a detention center for the incarceration of truly dangerous or high profile criminals was not a place that would be widely known to the public. Which was why Valiant of House Goldenshield was escorting me into the depths of the great mountain that the city and castle were situated in and upon. The tunnels were connected to an innocuously false clock tower entrance in a suspiciously under populated section of the metropolis, solely emphasizing the secrecy of the prison they led to. The passageways to the holding cells where prisoners were kept were a literal labyrinth of corridors that were dimly lit with crystal torches and seemed to go on for miles, though that could have been the unsettling quietude combined with Valiant's unusually grim demeanor playing tricks on me.

Our footfalls thudded and echoed heavily through the corridors, despite my instinctual masking of my steps, which was both annoying and interesting. To occupy myself and indulge my curiosity, I scanned the walls and discovered with little surprise that they were heavily warded, likely to counter intrusion and or escape. The information I gleaned about the wards as I mentally dissected them to learn their purpose and how they functioned was intriguing. It must have taken a lot of time and a lot of magic to implant so many enchantments on so big an object (although any combination of enchantments weaved together on multiple objects counted it as a single entity, magic wise). Pleasantly, the air was thaumaturgically recycled as to always be fresh and free of stagnation and the smell of mildew.

No one could see into this prison without exceedingly powerful scrying magicks (which would be detected and promptly put the facility on automatic lockdown), and those that pierced the veil covering the prison would see only the winding tunnels that took sudden turns or had dead ends shrouded in darkness. The facility with the prisoners itself would be but a blank void, virtually undetectable to conventional means… not that anyone would think to look in the northern bowels of the mountain for the inhabitants that were detained here.

"Are you alright, My Prince?" Valiant broke the silence between the two of us. Now that we were in private, he referred to me with that damnable title. I tried discouraging its use with the guardsmen, but they were a stubborn, hidebound bunch… which was appropriately one of the reasons why they were guardsmen.

"I am, Valiant" I nodded curtly, "Thank you for your concern"

He seemed hesitant to foster additional conversation, although it was plainly obvious that he wanted to speak further.

"Go on, Valiant" I encouraged him, "Say what's on your mind"

"I… shouldn't, My Prince" He vacillated, "It's improper"

I favored him with a deadpan voice, "Valiant, have I ever been the type to waffle over propriety?"

"I suppose not, My Prince" He conceded with a light chuckle, "It's just… what happened that night at that Mansion?"

My mood sank involuntarily as I recollected the confrontation, "Treachery happened. Someone dangerous exploited a potential weakness of mine and manipulated another to use it against me. I am fortunate that the perpetrator did not possess a surer hand, or there would have been grave consequences"

I shuddered. I could not bear to think about whom I would have lost, I just couldn't.

"But who?" Valiant was aghast, "Who would do such a despicable thing?"

"That is partly what I'm coming down here to find out… and I will" I darkly vowed, "One way or another"

My frosty tone unnerved him, I could tell, "I have seen the results of incurring your wrath for myself" The man shivered mid-step, "I would not wish it upon anybody"

I sighed at his softheartedness, "Valiant. How far would you go to protect those that you love?" I leveled with him. I would not allow any doubts about me to fester in his core, not when I needed his and his fellow guardsmen's full loyalty. I had their allegiance by virtue of being their uncrowned Prince, but I wanted their mind's and hearts with me as well.

He was caught off guard by the question, but he soon recovered, "I do not know, My Prince. I would assume anything, but… I have not yet been put in such a situation that would test my resolve like that"

I 'hmm'd' neutrally, "Pray that you never have to. I however, have been tested… and I do not regret my choices"

He inclined his head repentantly, "Forgive me, My Prince. I was out of line"

I waved him off, "None of that. Truthfully, I would be more bothered if you hadn't broached the topic with me. I did make a bit of a mess in there, after all" I jested blackly, "The point is, Valiant, that I am not a wholly selfless man. When it comes to those that I care about most, I will move Heaven and Earth to protect them. If anyone or anything maliciously stands in the way of that, on their head be it"

"I see" Valiant equivocated as we took another turn that I automatically committed to memory for future reference, "How fares the woman that you were carrying? She is well, I hope?"

"Her name is Octavia" I informed him, "And yes, she is fine" Better than fine, actually, in all meanings of the word. We were still working out the intricacies of our newfound bond, but our relationship was stronger than ever for it. That made her the second woman after Lyra to understand me on a fundamental level.

"What do you intend to do with her kidnapper?" He inquired, deliberately avoiding my eyes.

"At first? Just talk to her" I replied honestly, "Now that the incident is over and the danger to Octavia's life has passed. I'm in a calmer frame of mind to properly conduct her interrogation" It was tempting to hate her, in spite of her failure to do the one I loved mortal harm. But hatred left unchecked was an emotion that festered in the soul and rotted a person from the inside out.

I could not morally afford to become a man my past self would be disgusted to be related to.

"And if she refuses to comply?" The guardsman ventured, "Will you do unto her as you did to her accomplices?"

"I will not physically damage her if that is what you are implying" I assured him, "But I have a hunch that there was a third party involved. Sure, she could have had spies delivering her information on both mine and Octavia's whereabouts to perfectly time her kidnapping and leaving a ransom notice for me to find… but the whole plot stinks of outside influence. Melody may have been at the center of this scheme, but if there were peripheral factors, then she would do well to enlighten me" I zeroed in on him, "Why the concern for her wellbeing?"

"W-well, it's j-just" He stammered, "In spite of her grievous crimes, she was still one of us, our countrywoman. Sun and Moon above, I remember seeing her perform once not three moons ago!" He cursed, "How could someone like that, an Arcanian like you and me, do such a thing?"

"People will find themselves doing things no one would ever expect them to when they feel like they've been driven to it" I answered, bemused by his naiveté, "That is when a person's integrity is tested the most. Melody failed that test of her character… and now she languishes here"

He nodded, deep in reflection at my words.

"You've given me much to think on, Zenith. I hope you find the answers that you are looking for, My Prince. Ah, we're here!" He seemed glad for the distraction as we came to what was seemingly another dead end, the intricate symbols on his armor glowed minutely before dimming.

That 'dead end' began to light up as we drew closer to it, as if reacting to our presence. The entryway to the prison facility proper was a carbon copy of the Doors of Durin. It was flat and flush, its jambs invisible, and matched so flawlessly with the rock as to be seamless. It shared its famous silver-like inlays, gleaming like LEDs in the relative gloom. The inlays were the usual pattern that could be expected of Arcanian architecture, with filigrees, earth, clouds, stars, and the emblem of the Royal Sisters, seeming to chase itself into infinity. It was a work of art that was as intricately devised as it was ornate in its design.

It 'scanned' us once we were meters away, which I assumed was its operational range, if not its maximum range. If what I was reading from the scan itself was true, the parameters were wide-ranging, stiff, and sensible. For instance, anyone who unduly approached with explosives or weapons for demolition on their person, whether they were cleared or not by the administrative system, and the doors would automatically seal themselves from anywhere up to a month and sound an alarm to alert the wardens and the Royal Guardsmen, who would come rushing in. The door itself was durable enough to the point that it could resist small, nuclear level blasts and come out peachy.

Its scan was not skin-deep, and even analyzed our blood composition… how incredibly curious.

"We who guard the Chosen of the Heavens are the Children of the Earth. Though our flesh is temporary, our spirits are eternal. We serve a Harmonious cause, and will not be led astray by those that would seek to corrupt it. By Sun and By Moon and By Stars, by my vows as an Arcanian and as a Royal Guardsman, I swear this" Valiant spoke the words of passage… that were also an oath, how quaint.

The inlays on the door faded and there was an intermission during which nothing occurred. If I were new to this, I would have thought that something was wrong. The doors swinging inwards without any noise save for a rushing flow of air as it granted us entry would have disproved me anyways. With a casual shrug, I ventured forward, my companion joining me. We were met then by the wardens, a company sized contingent of guardsmen on the roster who were rotated to prison duties. They formed a second line of scrutiny, demanding all sorts of precise passphrases and random tidbits of trivia like which Princess liked which fruit that were patently aimed at weeding out imposters or spies.

It was five minutes of tiresome questioning that Valiant thankfully fielded for the both of us and we were cleared to go. The interior of the prison was like no other cellblock that I had seen. Firstly, the cells themselves were separated from the checkpoint by a lengthy stone bridge that spanned an expanse that felt like a great, black pit in the world. It reminded me prominently of that adrenaline crammed adventure in Precania, although thankfully this mountain was not infested with bothersome Grimworts. I idly wondered what happened to the ugly little bastards. With Precania now long since sunk beneath the waves like some Atlantean Civilization expy, it was likely that the majority of them had all perished, for there was neither hide nor hair of them to be found here in this land.

Oddly, such a prospect twinged at me. They were not all bad creatures, wretched though they were.

The vast stone platform with the holding cells floated impossibly still over the void, supported by some arcane mechanism that I wanted to actively analyze but did not, dreading that I might trip one of the redundant security measures that were in place and then we would have to be detained and delayed while I explained that I was examining this prison out of intellectual inquisitiveness, instead of snooping for weaknesses as an enemy spy would.

One day its secrets would be mine though.

Until then, I would just have to hypothesize that the manifold runic arrays etched everywhere I could see a smooth surface had something to do with it. The extra security measures were inconvenient, but it reassured me that the Crown was on the ball when it came to safeguarding those who had utterly violated its laws requiring a harsh sentencing. We were forthwith directed to the cell letter and number where the prison's latest guest was cooling her heels. The organization system was necessary since the cellblock was huge, able to house thousands of prisoners in cells that were isolated from the others by sound, sight, and other senses to prevent prisoners from communicating and coordinating with each other. Even so, the cell assignment policy when the prison was not nearing its capacity (overflow being a nigh unheard of event) was to put one prisoner to every other cell. Truly, Concordia's covert maximum security prison was no joke.

The prison seemed inescapable, even though I knew there was no such penitentiary, regardless of how well designed it was.

It was almost chilling, knowing that the Princesses, Celestia in particular, were secretly prepared for inevitabilities like this. It made me ponder what else they had in store for those that underestimated them.

As we were escorted to the cell where Melody was staying until her ultimate judgment and sentencing were rendered, Valiant confided in me as we were crossing the bridge that he had heard a rumor amongst some of the guards that had recently rotated out that the cells were also enchanted to record anything the prisoners uttered, mumbled, or cursed to themselves as a potential source of information, but that he was not sure if the scuttlebutt was factual or just hearsay. I would not be surprised if it were. Anyone who had to be kept here for an extended period of time had lost any rights to absolute privacy if they endangered the welfare of the nation and its people with their activities.

Melody was imprisoned in the metaphorical bowels of the cellblock, so we got the opportunity to observe some of her local cellmates as we toured the facility. The cells themselves were queerly missing the metal bars or any solid obstruction separating the prisoner and the jailer, substituting a selectively transparent barrier instead. It was that day that I first saw the Changelings that had plagued this country in the past, and undoubtedly still did. In their basic form, they resembled largely androgynous insectoid humanoids, with a black carapace featuring a glossy sheen protecting much of their leathery flesh like homegrown armor. They exhibited exaggerated characteristics such as horn like nibs on their foreheads that glowed impotently as they wildly attempted to cast spells that were immediately nullified, a rounded bulge on their backs that indicated the elytra above where their collapsible, physical wings were folded, and vampire-esque fangs jutting an inch or so from their mouths. The Swiss cheese holes that I half expected to see on their bodies were few and far between, existing as fissures in their natural armor, while their unconcealed flesh was uniformly smooth.

Blue, pupil-less eyes leered at us hungrily as we walked on by, despite their cells ordinarily being one way to visual, auditory, olfactory, and haptic senses.

I postulated that the emotivores could still somehow sense the emotions of those that they fed upon through whatever sensory blockages the enchantments on this place imposed on them. On a whim, I tested this by suppressing any lingering emotions with practiced ease and stopping on the spot. I blithely urged the guardsmen to continue on for a bit ahead of while also remembering their happy memories, confirming my theory when the changeling's gazes tracked the guardsman and ignored me. Some of them had transformed into men and women that I assumed were precious to the guardsmen in a swirling, blazing flash of magic that I noted was not merely an overlaying projection, for the carapace holes were enclosed and my acute Valkyrian senses educated me that the air in the cells ceased to flow into them, so it was either a solid field projection, or they were legitimate shape shifters.

The guardsmen close by who recognized this action and were accustomed to it growled to themselves in incensed irritation, but resolutely and professionally ignored the identity frauds. The changeling's precise emotion reading range seemed limited to five to eight meters, but I could not be certain of this hypothesis without testing in controlled conditions, which was unlikely to be approved of by everyone involved here, to say nothing of what the Princesses would think of me.

Without a focus for their attention, the lot of them acted like they were feral beasts, either twitching erratically in the corner of their cells, or violently and ineffectually clawing at the walls, battering at the invisible barrier between themselves and freedom, wailing like tortured souls all the while. It was a pitiful sight, knowing that creatures like this existed and behaved as monstrously as they initially appeared. Then again, these changelings had not been 'fed' since they were captured and interned here. They had the organs to process physical food, but they could only healthily sustain themselves on positive emotions. Starvation had adverse effects on anyone's psyche, but the manner in which these emotivores fed on emotion drained their victims in a way that kept them entrapped in their minds and a husk of their former selves. So feeding them was not a feasible option.

I was of two minds myself regarding the changelings. On one hand, I refused to believe that there could exist a species whose existence was crafted to be so malevolent towards sapient life as to be entirely parasitic. On the other hand, unless someone discovered a method for feeding these creatures without reducing people to emotionally drained shells, there was only one clear-cut way to deal with them. It did not consist of an inane solution like befriending the emotion vampires… more like beheading them. When all you have is a mallet, every quandary starts to seem like a game of whack-a-mole.

There had to be another way. But I had insufficient knowledge to devise some resolution to this dilemma.

The prison's population was mainly composed of these changelings, although with so many of them taking on the appearances of loved ones as we tripped their emotion sensing proximity, it was hard to tell the difference between them and human occupants. Quizzing the guards revealed that most of them had been languishing here since some time ago, while the newer ones were those whose covers had been botched or were exposed by other means… videlicet, inquisitorial scourging by Royal Agents tasked with sniffing out and apprehending these creatures.

Changelings had a knack for acting, and given how the emotions they were vicariously sensitive to were attached to memories, they naturally were a pain to catch in the act before it was too late for their victims. Methods for unmasking a changeling while they were in disguise included zapping them (which disrupted their guise), bleeding them (as their guise did not camouflage their ichor like blood once it was outside their body), grilling them on trivial factoids that the person they stole the identity of would know by heart, or radiating such powerful, positive emotions that the changeling instinctually abandons their lesser source of nourishment and goes for the originator of the emotional flare. That latter technique was deemed ill advised, as the person who acted as a beacon would literally get swarmed by ravenous changelings, but it also happened to be extremely effective at rooting out implanted groups of them.

Unfortunately pressing a cornered changeling for answers was next to impossible. Even when they were magically cutoff from the telepathic communal like gestalt that changelings within a propinquity of unknown range shared with each other (not a hive mind per se, but a psychic network that they could access at will to coordinate and spread information), they were adamant in their refusal to bend to those that they viewed as their 'food'. Starving them only worsened the conundrum, as any coherent thought they were capable of became a frenzy of enraged hunger that eventually led to the death of the changeling.

As if to spite the world that denied them their sustenance, their rotting carcasses poisoned the environment as they decomposed, meaning that they had to be burned once they were disposed of. Peculiarly, the Crown actually had a law in effect that permitted its citizenry to use up to lethal force on unveiled changelings if they felt that notifying the authorities would be insufficient to speedily protect their loved ones. Learning further about the changelings in order to understand them was an obstacle that few wished to circumvent, and fewer were qualified to. Thinking about my time in the south, and what info I gathered from Flim and his files there, it was a foregone conclusion that Arcania still had a bit of a bug problem.

Finally, we made it to Melody's cell, which was prudently as removed from the cells with the changelings as possible. The woman ruminating inside was posed in an upright fetal position, her face buried in her sandwiched knees. She was an absolute wreck of her former self. Her once luxuriant hair was messy and frazzled, her eyes were red and puffy from weeping, her makeup was smeared on her face from frequently wiped tears, and her lavish clothes had been stripped from her, leaving her with a plain grey and white striped prisoner's shift. I admit with some shame that I took a vindictive pleasure in her misery that was as challenging to clamp down on as it was satisfying to indulge in.

This was the woman who tried to take MY Octavia from me with her vicious, hateful, misguided scheme for revenge, never mind the fact that she instigated all of this with her loose morals, pettiness, and steadfast refusal to let sleeping dogs lie. Okay… I might have still had strong residual feelings regarding the deplorable excuse for a human being that would take a while to fade and cool until they were smoldering coals. But Princesses Celestia and Luna both gave me the option of conducting her interrogation and I had neither the saintly virtue nor the forbearance to decline them.

They also bequeathed me another option. But that would come after the interrogation was conducted.

The wardens that were escorting us haptically interfaced with a stone tablet adjacent to the cell that was inscribed with runes and functioned as a control panel for the individual cells. A couple taps later, and both Sound and Sight from outside her cell were restored. Once I received the go-ahead signal from the watchful wardens, I cleared my throat as a prompting for the prisoner. Melody's head snapped up in attention as she ascertained that she had company. Her flustered eyes focused on me and a gamut of complex emotions zipped across her face quickly before they settled on resignation.

"Oh… it's… you" She stated all but robotically.

"So it is" I acknowledged with an equally droning tone.

I tilted my head at the warden manning the panel, "Drop the isolation field, let me in, and bring it up again until I beckon you otherwise. I would like to speak with Miss Melody here alone"

The aforementioned woman curled up and attempted to shrink herself as small as she could with a whimper. It seems that I had made quite an impression on her the other night.

"But, My Prince," The man protested, "Is that… is that judicious of you?"

Based on his reservations with that, he may have been part of the cleanup crew to witness the bloody aftermath of my wrath firsthand. This was confirmed when his gaze met Valiant's, and they exchanged an unspoken dialogue. His duty as a warden, temporary as it may have been, was to ensure that his prisoners remained intact, unless otherwise ordered.

I preempted their disquieted doubts, "If I wanted to kill her, she would have been dead back in that mansion" I coldly but logically pointed out, "Drop. The. Field" I punctuated my order.

The man obeyed, admitting me into the spartan cell and adjusting it to the 'privacy setting' with a hum that I knew was incorporated into its design from passively scanning it. I ambled forward and the not so Marvelous Melody instinctually scrambled backwards to the wall, gibbering in fearful fits of panic. Behind me the world was a blur, with only the guardsmen's silhouettes visible beyond the field, their tenseness evident to me even without visually verifying it. Once my business was concluded here, all that I had to do to indicate that I was finished was to pulse my magical aura. The containment mechanisms for these cells were sufficient for boxing in trained Stellar Mages of Twilight's caliber, presupposing that their connection to their magic was not inhibited, but a full-on Trifect was a whole other kettle of fish.

No doubt stronger prisoners had special holdings tailored just for them.

"I meant what I said earlier. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so, and very little could delay me before I accomplished that" I reminded her at library volume, "Now stand up and collect your wits, for I have need of them"

"W-why, why are you here?" She stuttered as she complied, looking like she would rather be anywhere else right now, "Is it to gloat? Does my anguish amuse you?" She hissed, some strength returning to her voice.

I scoffed sardonically, "You overstate your own significance to me. Even now, you assume the worst of others and yet refuse to see within to your own shortcomings. I am not here for you as a person" I set my jaw firmly, "And I use that word sparingly after what you did"

"Then why are you here!?" She repeated, spittle flying from her lips and reminding me of a rabid dog, which was fitting, although I did not require a reason to put her down.

"Who aided you in your plot to kidnap Octavia as a means to get to me?" I prodded her, watching carefully for hidden tells in her body language.

"What makes you think that I had help?" She verbally evaded, sneering at me, "I am not so incapable of hatching my own schemes and carrying them out"

That telltale twitch before her words belied that I was correct in my supposition.

"Do not dodge the question" I growled at her, "I don't even have to ask it. I could simply rummage through your head and none too gently pry the answer from your mind" I leaned menacingly towards her, "You do not want that. Take my word for it!~" I cooed with false sweetness.

She visibly recoiled, discerning the sincerity of my statement with poorly repressed horror, "That… that is no idle threat, is it?"

"I do not have to show this level of tolerance to someone who has so brazenly flouted the laws of her country and her people" I verbalized with casual indifference, "So I recommend complying with me, before that tolerance wears out"

She was silent as she absorbed that.

"You know... I ought to thank you for one thing, Melody" I chuckled morbidly, "Thanks to that stunt you pulled, Octavia and I are now closer than ever" And wasn't that the truth?

"Plus, it made me realize that my opponents are not afraid of stooping to using patsies to get to me. You were that patsy, and you were taken advantage of" I glanced askance at her, "If anyone deserves your righteous retribution, it's them"

"What makes that classless cellist so much better than me to you?" She whispered sorrowfully to herself, "What could motivate you to mount a solo rescue, butcher all of my men, and unleash such hellish magic when I did her harm?"

I quirked a brow skeptically at her, "That cellist has a name, you should learn to use it… and she's alive and well, no thanks to you. That I prefer her to you any day of the week might be because Octavia comports herself in a sincere and virtuous manner befitting her status as an Arcanian woman and as a human being. She does not flit from tryst to tryst because she respects the sanctity of her body and the sanctity of relationships in general. She does not take her musical talent for granted or boast about skill where there is little to none, and most importantly, she loves with all of her heart and soul. That alone is worth fighting for. That is worth killing for. From what I have known and seen of you, you do not do these things. Worse, you seem to think less of those who do. Did you know that Octavia intervened on your behalf ('And mine') that night?" I did not elect to include that thought, "Can you begin to imagine the sheer strength of character that takes? To all but pardon the person who just slit your throat with lethal intent aforethought?" Melody was aghast at that, "So to put it as honestly as I can, Octavia is Purer than you are, through and through"

"I see" She inclined her head in disgrace.

"No, you don't" I disagreed, "Needless to say, you've basically sealed your fate by kidnapping your fellow citizen with intent to murder, let alone holding her as a hostage to an Agent of the Crown, which can patently be interpreted as petty treason. But it is not too late to make some amends in the meantime. You might even knock off some years from your sentence if it helps me find the other party or parties responsible for this" I retracted the proverbial stick and offered the carrot.

"I do hope that assertion is nearer to the truth than it was when you prematurely claimed yourself an Agent of the Crown after I propositioned you" She scoffed contemptuously at me.

"Whether or not my status was official at the time was irrelevant. What matters was that I was being considered for it" I obfuscated with partial truth, "You do not threaten a man or his loved ones for spurning your unwanted advances, regardless of how they portrayed themselves. Now stop being evasive and tell me who it was that colluded with you"

She studied me for a second as she bit her upper lip nervously, her eyes darting around, as if searching for some invisible presence before she spoke, "Your instincts serve you well, Agent" She susurrated resentfully, "While I was… stewing at my social retreat in the countryside, I was indeed visited by some… intriguing characters that wore these heavy, unseemly cloaks and called themselves the servants of a misshapen master. I doubted the worth of these vagabonds in the beginning, but they proved to me that they were not to be underestimated, surprising me with secrets about my family that no one else is supposed to know. They expressed their sympathy for what I did believe was my wrongful mistreatment at your hands" I politely withheld the scorn that misguided notion deserved.

Her eyes flicked to mine, "They were unusually interested in knowing about you, especially once they heard your name. It was not something they would elaborate on, but you must have dealt them a grave insult in the past, for they all collectively stiffened when I referenced you as serving the Crown. It was queer. And when I told them that you were involved with the cellist, they became oddly supportive of my plan to strike back at you. They advised me to keep track of her movements, take note of where she lived and what times she was present in her hovel while I garnered or contracted supporters of a… brutish bent to smuggle into my estate using my family's wealth and connections. They instructed me to hire nobodies, and given that they were cheaper to purchase the services of, I thought nothing of it then. They would keep in touch and apprise me as to when you were in the city to stay, which was when I was to enact my plan, although I had no idea how they would do so when I had informants of my own in the city and they could not locate you"

Her spies must have been incompetent or were neglecting their jobs. It was not like I made a supreme effort to go unnoticed wherever I went. Perhaps I should change that. Not all eyes on me would be friendly ones.

She frowned, comprehending how well that turned out for her, "They've no doubt disappeared by now. They promised me that they would handle things if there were complications. But they abandoned me!" She grit her teeth and sighed explosively, "I was played for a fool, and in my anger born of jealousy, I was blinded to that fact"

That was not a lot for me to go on, "Any distinguishing characteristics about these cloaked figures? Any tattoos or marks? Maybe an accent that was out of place? I need specifics"

She canted her head, "I met the cloaked men but once, but I do not think all of them were Arcanian. One brute of a man was too hulking to be any Agrarian and another had unnaturally dark hands and an odd accent, as if the Arcanian Tongue was foreign to him. Afterwards they sent proxies to deliver messages to me… though I overheard my hired help complaining that the proxies they employed were humorless and like talking to fence posts for all the personality that they had"

"Changelings, I'd wager" I grunted to myself, "Whoever these cloaked men were, they had the backing of the changelings somehow" Just like Flim and Flam in the South, albeit their files charily did not mention their backers. It was informative that these mysterious cloaked figures could have foreigners in their ranks. Was it indicative of outside support? Or was it diverse recruiting habits? How fathomless was this rabbit hole? And was there really a rabbit at the bottom of it?

I was annoyed at this development. It was admittedly clever of these unknowns to limit their presence and stick to utilizing changelings as their go-betweens, spies, and informants. Rooting out changelings was like sifting out a seed of barley from a pile of wheat seeds. It was so much trouble for little to no gain. Even if I could get my hands on one of these proxies, changelings were not creatures that I had experience mentally invading, due to not encountering any in the flesh outside of this prison. If I got the process wrong, the information that I sought would liquefy along with their brains. I could request to experiment with disposable ones, but Princess Celestia might frown on that. She could ignore the numerous tiny moral inconsistences in my demeanor, but her lenience was not unlimited. Her prophesized hero could not have a harmless hamartia like utter callousness when it came to his enemies. That Princess Luna might concur with my opinion would compound that topic. It was a delicate balancing act to keep the Royal Sisters operating in harmony with each other and with me.

Taking the mantle of Earth Lord only complicated that further.

Justice for Octavia's mistreatment would merely be partially accomplished today. I had to put my aggravation in check as I mentally reviewed the available data. This was basically a dead end as a lead, other than those foreign tidbits that may or may not come in handy when it came to identifying an organization. A misshapen master did not narrow the criteria for a head culprit, and that was assuming that the cloaked figures were being truthful and that this was not a convoluted double bluff of sorts. It did prove that the changelings were working with some unknown group that these cloaked men could be members of. But who was the dominant party? The changelings or the unknowns? Whatever the case was, they had embedded themselves as deeply as Concordia itself (which was acutely worrying given the capital's ramped up security), possessed the resources to operate in the shadows and in broad daylight, and seemed to have a vested interest in ruining my life.

This was just perfect.

"I do hope that what meager details I know can help you, Agent" Melody murmured, her posture loosely contrite, "I am… sorry that it all came to this"

"Don't apologize for something if you do not mean it" I chastised her, not fooled by the act, "The only reason that you're sorry at all is because you were foiled, and now you've puzzled out that your backers flew the coop the second you were caught, assuming they did not deem you to be disposable to begin with. Long odds, that. You were a tool that outlived its usefulness to them. Not so swell to be on the receiving end of that kind of relationship, is it?"

She opened her mouth to deny it, but then clacked it shut, "So I was" She conceded begrudgingly, "What will happen to me?"

"The consequences of what you have done and what you have tried to do are most severe" I did not sugarcoat her situation for her, "The Crown thanks you for your cooperation, belated as it is. I will factor that into the judgment. For the here and now, the Princesses have ultimately given me the authority to sentence you as both their Agent and one of the two aggrieved parties involved. And since Octavia has consigned you to a bad memory whose bitter sting is to fade with time, it falls to me. I figured that solitary confinement like the kind that you are undergoing here will not be enough to hammer in the immensity of the mistake you made. So you are going to be performing a public service for the next decade via petrification and subsequent display in the Royal Pleasure Gardens. All of your personal assets legally belonging to you are to be seized by the Crown and distributed as it sees fit. Once your time in the Gardens is up, your additional penance shall be commuted from exile to a private retreat for those in need of therapy regarding proper social behavior. You will be able to rejoin society pending three years of consistently positive updates from your councilors. Do you have any questions?"

She morosely shook her head.

"Very well. I will execute your sentencing myself. Posthaste" I recited slash paraphrased from the notecard I had memorized for this. I would rather dispense with the official wording and get on with it, but I had a role to maintain.

I lifted her to her feet with my magic as she silently despaired, "Marvelous Melody of the House of Melodic Polyphony. For the crimes of attempted murder of an Arcanian subject, threats targeted towards a Royal Agent, and minor conspiracy against the Crown, you are to be punished to the fullest extent of the Arcanian Crown Law. In my capacity as a Royal Agent of the Arcanian Crown, you are hereby sentenced to a state of thaumaturgically induced petrifaction for the minimum term of one decade from tomorrow with possibility of parole afterwards. Do you have any valedictory words before your sentence is carried out?"

"I wish I could turn back time to the occasion that I first fancied you" She ruefully wistfully whispered to herself, "That way I could spare myself all the pain that followed that fateful event"

'As do we all' I thought dryly as I prepared the spell, "Your words have been noted. May you find peace in the abyss of Somnium"

The spell of petrification and its counter-spell were taught to me by Celestia, who demonstrated it on a flower, undid it in the space of a breath, and had me practice with a vase of them until a flower could be brought out of the spell and remain whole. To my credit, I only ruined a total of five chrysanthemums. I had misjudged the output of application for the first five and when the flowers were revived, they crumbled into pieces. One of the wonderful facets of magic was that the scale of the targeted object was not entirely a roadblock to be bypassed or powered through. The disparity between affecting a flower and a person (disregarding a person's innate resistances) with magic was the amount of mana required, true, but any excess mana applied to the spell would either be bled off, added to the permanence of the spell if that was the intent, or other miscellaneous effects that could and would vary from spell to spell.

The combat applications for this spell were all but nonexistent, disappointingly. While this simulacrum of Medusa's Curse would be an excellent tool for neutralizing and capturing enemies, it was easily disrupted when the afflicted could project spells of their own to block it or even reflect it like a Mage version of Perseus's shield. Perhaps it could be refined into something weaponizable using Arithmancy and or Metamagic, but generally, it was unfeasible when compared to other spells that could stun, cripple, or kill faster and with less fuss.

The spell, when cast, was kind of like carbon freezing someone, placing them in a type of stasis where they were physically preserved, but were mentally active in a dreamlike haze that they had little control over and persisted until the petrification terminated. It was an extreme example of non capital punishment, and some would argue that it was worse than a death sentence depending on how many years the person was petrified. A decade, barring odd exceptions, was the shortest term for a sentencing of petrification, and I did not have the heart to inquire into the upper numbers, but suffice it to say that when the person came out, their world would be very different from when they went in. Their immediate family would be aged, or deceased, and the black mark on their records would prevent them from ever gaining lawful employment, connecting to people socially, or reclaiming the respect of their peers. It was as damning a punishment as was possible in this country without physically or mentally harming the guilty.

Melody's family had legally disowned her with haste (it was implied from the report that it was to conserve their own reputations rather than out of censuring the woman's immoral behavior, to my disgust. AJ would declare that the whole barrel of fruit was rotten, if she knew), though she would keep the family name for filing purposes, and they fervently denied any involvement in her treachery.

From what I read into the situation, their swift disavowing was born of a sociopolitical saving of face than of legitimate disapproval of their daughter's perfidy. The family image was everything among the social elite in the city, and any tarnishing of that image could not be countenanced. It seemed that Melody's acorn did not fall far from the tree. Their eager cooperation would not shield them from a thorough follow up investigation, not that I expected anything useful to come of it, nor would it save them from being censured for their poor handling of the situation. The Princesses had reassured me of that.

It was all cold comfort to me, though.

The spell itself took on an apt greyish color that 'felt' icy and hard to my sophisticated, arcane senses as it coalesced in my hand in a spherical shape before I sent it leaping into Melody's sternum like a football that had been punted by an incensed placekicker. The woman gave no indication that she felt anything other than a violent shiver that wracked her whole body as her flesh systematically morphed into a flinty coloration. The ensuing progression was as fascinating as it was ghastly to watch. Stone crept up the flesh of Melody's limbs like a living growth, starting at her toes and fingers. It moved excruciatingly slow at a rate of an inch every three seconds, and based on the grimace adorning her face, was an incredibly unnerving if not outright horrific transformation for her. If I were an emotionally softer man, I might have regretted what I just inflicted on her.

As it was, the only thing harder than that petrified flesh was my expression as I glared dispassionately at her.

To be honest with myself, I largely pitied the woman for letting her emotions impair her judgment, and for letting it come to this. Melody herself was submissive to her fate, bearing it quietly and with a dignified sufferance that was begrudgingly admirable. She was tranquil, save for the tears that streaked earthwards as she trembled like a leaf, albeit her rate of breathing was steady. Mercifully, the spell itself did not cause pain, only numbness as physical sensations ceased to be in the corresponding extremities. Even for the worst offenders of the Law, the Princesses would ensure that they were treated as humanely as possible. Eventually, the woman's head was the last part of her body to be engulfed by the stone and the musician once known as Marvelous Melody became a statue. I stood there in that cell for a long moment, just staring blankly at the now inanimate object while idly working the muscles in my hands and jaw, a whirlwind of complicated thoughts and emotions racing through my mind before they coalesced and settled on grim satisfaction.

I had received both Octavia's closure and mine on this matter. This woman would plague us only in memory from that point on.

With a tap on the containment field, (which was like knocking on a curtain of thrumming, electrified wind) and a pulse of my magic, the guardsman at the tablet controls dropped the screen and I stepped out. A few of the wardens' faces paled as they observed the newly petrified Melody, but they resumed their professional, stoic personas admirably. I would not be surprised if new rumors were to be tacked onto my 'local legend' among the gossipy guardsmen soon.

"Did you find what you were looking for, My Prince?" Valiant was the first of them to speak up, his complexion ashen. It did not take a genius to see that he did not fully approve of this course of action.

His tune would change if he had experienced firsthand how close to death my Octavia was, felt her sagging in his arms like she was some limp limbed doll, his heart filling with ice water as he anguished inside at how he might have been both directly and indirectly responsible for her fate. The sheer loathing directed at the world for its callousness, but mainly at himself for his failure to safeguard that which mattered most.

It would be a while before that memory stopped haunting me. I could expunge it with a spell for editing one's memories, but I had forced myself to remember, to remember how foolish I was for not tying up loose ends in a timely and effective manner. To turn my back on what I mistook as a harmless beast and not expect it to bite me for my reckless disregard of a legitimate threat.

Lesson learned.

I sighed tiredly, psychologically sapped, "No… and also yes. As I suspected, she was not the sole party responsible for the attempt on my Octavia's life, but she was only a means to an end for another group and was too hell bent on revenge to bother with doing her research on her manipulators. I will include the exact details for her confession in my written report to the Princesses, rest assured of that"

Valiant grimaced, "You have my sincerest condolences, My Prince. It is a shame to know that all this… death served next to no practical purpose" He sympathized with me, shrouding his abhorrence for my brutal killing of Melody's goons in the same breath.

"I wouldn't imply that it was pointless" I countered with a humorless grin that did not reach my eyes, "After all… I get to have some peace of mind… and the Royal Gardens get a new sculpture for the pigeons to paint"

Valiant pointedly did not deign to rise to the bait, save for a slight rolling of his eyes.

⁂

With a sluggish start of my cerebral faculties, I realized that I had been lingering there in the garden for about ten minutes, my attentiveness fixed on the petrified form of the woman who had came closer than any other antagonist that I had faced to dealing a crippling blow to me by attacking my heart. Even though the woman herself was no longer an active factor, she had left an indelible mark on our lives. Octavia would yet be having recurring nightmares of that terrible night were it not for Luna insisting that she keep a hawk-like vigil over her dreams. Heck, it was chiefly that event that had me seek out the Princess of the Night to have her formally instruct me in the mystic art of Oneiromancy, that way I could be Octavia's anchor when she was awake and when she was asleep, if she so required it of me. Our blood bond encompassed many things, but it did not have us sharing dreams together, which was another mixed blessing to having a nigh telepathic connection betwixt us.

Ideally, I would spare the cellist some of my visceral dreams concerning my fears, doubts, and other negative emotions. God forbid that it somehow had me dragging her along on one of my… dimensional outings (Which neither Luna nor I wholly understood the mechanics of).

As for Luna teaching me Oneiromancy for real… that was an ongoing process. Our occasional action adventure dream jaunts aside, Luna had an incredible flair in the abstrusely difficult subject that no one else in this world could approach, let alone match. She expressed her reluctance in coaching this esoteric field of magic to me, perhaps hoping to dissuade me from further diverting my already split attentions on ostensibly needless pursuits. I was persistent, however, and brought it up in passing to her at least once every time we met. She was obstinate in her viewpoint, as she normally was, but I wore at her defenses with all the dirty tricks in the book. I would appeal to her compassion; citing how I nearly wasn't there for Octavia when she had needed me most, I would appeal to Luna's sake of convenience; as me keeping track of the dreams of those dear to me would lighten her workload (not that a handful of people would be a noticeable strain to her with what she automatically monitored), and finally, I would apply cold, hard logic to my argument; she could either teach me herself, or I would experiment with it myself; her warnings on the multitude of dangers hidden in the Dreamrealm be damned.

It was that closing ultimatum that had her aggrievedly relent on the matter of instructing me. Sure, it was a frankly childish line of reasoning for me to use, but what mattered was that it had worked.

I could be a manipulative bastard when given the incentive, although I internally suspected that Luna had actually been secretly testing my resolve with this, based on the vaguely satisfied smirk on her face when she had 'surrendered' to me. If I had to guess, she was pleased that I had no reservations about stooping so low to achieve my goals, which Luna had no qualms doing herself. That, or she was planning on making my experience under her tutelage as agonizing for me as possible, so that I might reconsider threatening to ignore her warnings about Dream Delving without her supervision. Hopefully it was the former, but I had to mentally prepare myself for the latter regardless.

Gatherings for training were held every moonrise in her private quarters. As I was a neophyte to this, the Lunar Diarch had personally imprinted an Arcane Circle on an onyx stone platform, depicting a configuration of concentric circles, conjoining arched lines, and other mysterious formations that I had no reference for. Luna had explained to me that the circle was a locus that wrought several helpful functions, the greatest of which was to act as a 'diving bell' for me to use to return to my body once I was done plumbing the depths of the Dreamrealm. Without it, I would be risking 'corporeal drifting' with my inexperience, which was as bad as it sounded. Losing touch with your own body was a bad way to become comatose. It was the primary reason why Luna would not countenance me experimenting with this by myself, as it was unbelievably parlous. That Arcane Circle was to be my 'Training Wheels', until such an occurrence arose that I could resume control of my body on my own merit and prove so to the Princess of the Night.

With drastically lightened administrative duties due to the holidays closing in and people being exclusively focused on that versus whatever concerns they wanted addressed in Night Court, Luna's temporarily shrunken workload could easily accommodate a crash course in the Mystic Art of Dream Delving. I recalled being wowed by the number of unreleased books and primers that were penned by the Princess herself that she had dusted off from a trunk, which she had fetched from storage for this occasion. When I was not tackling the applied portions of our training, I was to educate myself on Oneiromancy using… these as reading material. I was explicitly forbidden from bringing these books with me, and Luna would not give ground on this, so I would have to store the knowledge contained in them within my brain. There was no strict deadline for the curriculum that would be enforced on me, but I wasn't going to dally on this either. It was only my unsullied dedication to upholding Octavia's physical, mental, and spiritual wellbeing as well as the wellbeing of others precious to me that prevented me from sprinting out of those chambers screaming bloody murder. As it was, I had straightened out my belt, cracked my knuckles, and steeled myself for one hell of a grinder.

My God… some of those damnable tomes were extra THICC.

If I had to liken the pace at which I compelled myself to learn this magic, it was like drinking from a fire hose on full blast.

Thankfully, I had a good tutor.

Luna claimed that the Realm of Dreams, formally known as Somnium, hid dangers within it that were just as hazardous as those in the waking world, and in some cases, exceeding them, and I was inclined to believe her. As a lesser example, Dreamwraiths, nocturnal, parasitic entities that were borne of a person's doubts and fears, were a pervasive number of these dangers. During our first training session, Luna showed me how she tracked them with the same zeal as a big game hunter, utilizing their predatory habits against them with all the skill of a veteran; baiting them into false dreams and then collapsing it on them like an imploding bubble, crushing them into nothingness. What the princess did to these wispy, shriek happy beings when she personally caught them was as terrifying as the nightmares that they induced in their victims. As the Night Terror, she had once held command over these myriad beings, however briefly, and as such, knew all there was to know about them, including their weaknesses. Needless to say, I approved heartily of her merciless methods in dispensing with them.

As an aside, all Dream based hostile 'entities', which I shall henceforth coin Noctoids, could skirt the edges of dreams and invasively fling themselves into other dreams, although the likelihood of them doing so was minimal, since only the wiliest of Noctoids persisted over multiple dreams, and those tended to be pruned at Luna's hands like the bushes in the Royal Gardens before they became a significant nuisance. They could be dispersed with the same straightforwardness as threats in the waking world. You could stab them, shoot them, immolate them, freeze them, disintegrate them, etcetera and etcetera. The possibilities were as varied as the dreams they germinated from. The dreamers themselves had the ultimate means of damaging them though, given that they were the Noctoids' originators. If the dreamer victoriously confronted their fears, then the Noctoids were as fragile as tissue paper, and the dreamer was better off for it. If not, then they would be partially resistant to being dismantled, not that it mattered to the likes of Luna and I.

While Dreamwraiths were the equivalent of beginner level dungeon threats to any traveler that deliberately probed into Somnium, there were other, more bellicose Noctoids present that were harder to tangle with. Dream Demons, for instance, were the Dreamwraiths' bigger, meaner, faster cousins. These brutes were born from darker volatile emotions like rage and hatred. These jerks were special in that they could manipulate the dreamscape too, so if you weren't careful, you would be the one trapped in a collapsing dream bubble, and getting ejected from Somnium like that was… unpleasant, to say the least, as it was when Luna demonstrated such on me for taking too long dealing with a nest of Dreamwraiths festering in some poor girl's nightmare involving a trip to the dentist's. Yeah, Luna could be a harsh disciplinarian in retrospect, but I had asked for this, and my abilities as a Dreamwarrior were growing by leaps and bounds as a result. I now knew how to lure Dream Demons into the void surrounding a dream realm, where they would lose all of their substance and dissolve and disperse like fog under sunlight.

This strategy would not work on the third tier of Somnium's heap of fiends, as the third tier was composed of threats that could navigate the endless abyss of Somnium itself. These amorphous beings that prowled aimlessly through the void, and not even the Night Terror had held sway over them. These Dream Eaters, as Luna appropriately labeled them, weren't born from dreams at all, instead slowly feasting on any dreams that caught their fancy, worsening them and causing mental scarring to those who underwent this feeding process. It was the kind of anguish that left a persistent mark afterwards that would require psychological treatment to recover from. Luna did not know how these sinister beings came to be, but postulated that they were an eldritch race of creatures that were born from the intangible fabric that was Somnium itself, and fed on dreams the same way that wolves would feed on helpless sheep, tearing into them with unremitting ferocity and hunger.

They were dastardly creatures that were thorny to handle, and indeed the reason why Luna could be so occupied sometimes with her usual duties. There was no logical method to how they chose which dreams to devour, with them going after nice dreams as often as they would snack on bad dreams, or how many they would devour before withdrawing from their spree. Only egregious amounts of damage from magical spells that Luna had pioneered could 'kill' them, and they would usually slink into the existential vacuum that delineated the 'outskirts' of Somnium before allowing her to inflict a finishing blow. Following them as they fled was ill advised, as there was an obscure boundary there that separated sections of Somnium with those corresponding to other worlds. To traverse this boundary was to court oblivion, and Luna adamantly refused to speak about what happened to her on the one occasion she had attempted it. It was clear though that the event was traumatic for her.

I respected her privacy and did not pry, though I personally did not consider the matter at all closed. The Princess of the Night had shown me that Somnium was theoretically infinite, and encompassed all worlds. My spirit already intermittently crisscrossed the borders athwart worlds when I slept. There was a possibility, however infinitesimal, that I could actively use it to speak to my family by braving the dangers of Somnium, and for that alone I would risk the perils. I had the tools to protect myself, I had the training for recognizing which dreams belonged to whom, and how to insert myself in them without interrupting or alerting the dreamer. Hell, I could turn the dream lucid too, which was the biggest reason I was devoting serious contemplation to this. It wouldn't be the same as being there physically, but any chance that I could speak to or interact with my family members again was one that I could not afford to ignore even if I wanted to. God help me if Luna ever learned about my budding, secret aspiration though. Waking up from a self imposed trance with a killer headache would be the least of my concerns about her tutelage then.

Concealed, duplicitous plans whose unveiling would have a certain Princess of the Moon rip me a structurally superfluous new behind aside, with me there as her apprentice and backup to cutoff avenues of escape, Luna was able to make substantial headway in thinning the number of Dream Eaters skulking across our world's slice of Somnium. Although, if Dream Eaters were able to cross the nebulous boundaries dividing worlds… that implied that their feeding grounds were limitless, so the chances were that their population was in actuality numberless, and that culling them was closer to conducting damage control than fighting a true war. Luna soldiered on despite this, and many Dream Eaters were 'slain' during our sessions, returning to the formless nothingness that they were spawned from with thundering roars that echoed throughout the void.

I enjoyed these stimulating jaunts. Not only was the training invaluable and the experience of combatting Somnium's dangers and being unsung heroes thrilling, but when Luna judged the slaughter to be sufficient, we would go on a pranking spree in her subjects' dreams. It was good, harmless fun, and a wholesome way to come down from the high of triumphing over creatures that could be described as outlandish at best and downright horrifying at worst.

But I was digressing.

Giving Melody's statue an aloof farewell glance, I left the garden (and my blacker musings) behind me and made for the main body of the castle, nodding almost mechanically in greeting to the guardsmen manning the main entrance as I made my way inside. The interior of the palace was more sumptuously decorated for the holidays than any other location in the capital, as was fitting. Festive garlands of vibrant berries and fragrant flowers scented the air as they haphazardly crisscrossed the ceiling like streamers frozen in time, ropes of electric light bulbs scintillated above like a blanket of colorful stars, a plethora of golden bells strung on lines intermittently jingled with euphonic notes overhead, further evoking a spirit of celebration and triumph. And for the historically predisposed, there were ribbons of three cultural flavors embellished with descriptive markings wrapped around the columns; telling stories of similar days gone by if one cared to look.

It was all so very beautiful, but it was also a poignant reminder that I would never be spending the holidays with my birth family ever again. It hurt in a bitter way, but it was not a wholly negative pain, for it likewise encouraged me to forge fresh bonds of familial fellowship here.

Nobility from the city proper and beyond were waiting in the palace wings, loitering about really, expressing their anticipation for the upcoming plays that commemorated the founding of Arcania and subsequent rise to greatness. Normally I disdained the presence of the nobles in my general vicinity; vapid, self obsessed beings that they were, but there was something literally magical about Hearth's Warming Day that had them tone down on their snootiness and not act so condescendingly or with the goal of advancing their social status in mind. Though even when they acted decorously, their usual topics of conversation bored me. Noble ladies prated on about the latest winter fashions, despite the fact that they would only be wearing them for a month at most and that they would look like overstuffed turkeys in the meantime hauling all that fabric. Noble men discussed business opportunities, attempted to out-brag each other over who splurged the most money on gifts, and which potential partner had the shapeliest arse (albeit this seemed to be a common topic regardless of the season. To be fair, the ladies were also occasionally guilty of this).

I flitted through these groups of layabouts with ease, ducking and dodging their various invitations to join in and hobnob, well used to their tactics. I was pretty sure that someone insipid had written a book on them, and these dullards read it as their manual. The ones who had been present when I 'dismissed' them during a petition session for wasting the Crown's time on pointless squabbles that could be resolved on their own judiciously and wisely advised their comrades to give me some distance.

The head of the many Chamberlains here who were on staff, a Bitworth (one of a family of them that went back several generations), noticed me weaving through the gaggles of people and demonstrably waved me over in order to escort me to the Royal Family. His overt actions broadcasted a conspicuous message to even the particularly dimwitted nobles there that I was expected somewhere, and that their distractions were neither wanted nor appreciated. The outcome was instantaneous. Universally it had caused them to retreat, their machinations undone before they had fully formed, which I was thankful for. If beating off the sycophants and social schemers constantly was what I would have to put up with as a Royal myself (once I took that step, that is), then I would put it off for as long as I possibly could.

Coroneted indeed.

The pair of us kept a good pace through the heavily inhabited castle, with Bitworth smartly signaling the guardsman on duty and fellow servants of the Crown to intercept and divert the less sagacious of the guests there who attempted to slow us down with idle chitchat. I admired the exceedingly polite way the man personally handled some of the blockade runners, though I could tell his practiced smile was faker than numerous Hollywood Starlets' implants. Interestingly, while many of the castle's servants hailed from Noble lineages themselves, I had yet to meet any who comported themselves with anything but the courtesy and grace that was ingrained in those that came from modest backgrounds and were taught to conduct themselves humbly. It was a testament to Celestia's stringent hiring practices and rigorous training regimen that they had turned out this way, and my admiration for her discernment grew a bit as a result.

We soon reached a secluded chamber that was decently removed from where any guests could inadvertently stumble upon it. It was one that was specially set aside for private gatherings of the Royal Family (and one that had to be thoroughly dusted off and renovated not so far in the past, according to Bitworth). The butler did not even have the chance to knock on the lavishly filigreed doors before both halves of the portal glowed sunlight gold and moonlight silver with the respective magicks of the Princesses and swung inwards with nary a creak. The sounds of laughter, merriment, and general festivity emanated from inside the room, along with the delectable, heavy scents of cinnamon, hot cocoa, and peppermint sprinkled cakes. If I didn't know better, I would presume that the ghost of Christmas Present was chilling in there.

Bitworth theatrically twisted his neck and perked an immaculately trimmed eyebrow at me, "It would appear that their Royal Majesties have been waiting on you specifically. Best not keep them in suspense, sir" He charitably suggested.

"So it seems" I agreed with him, "Thanks for the escort, Mister Bitworth. You have my gratitude for running interference for me on the way here"

It was no secret among the palace staff that I had naught but distaste for the local flavor of nobility. That they accommodated me with this pet peeve only won them points in my book.

"Think nothing of it, sir. I live to serve the Crown" He inclined his head to me before resuming his other duties, a consummate professional to the bone.

(Theme Music: Winter Wonderland)

Jazzy, familiar music greeted me as I passed through the threshold, Bing Crosby's dulcet tones massaging my eardrums and injecting me with newfound nostalgia as aching to my soul as it was welcome to hear. Its source was an old-fashioned gramophone in the corner whose record blazed softly with a simple enchantment on it that allowed it to store several songs. The song was decidedly out of place for Arcania, though not for the season. A great roaring fireplace spacious enough to park an SUV in its depths bathed the chamber with its heat, providing its five original occupants with a soothing warmth. Stately reclined on a plush chaise sofa was the Princess of the Sun herself, whilst her sister sipped contentedly from a mug of hot chocolate nearby on a throne like chair. Both rulers were adorned in what appeared to be a customary seasonal dress, with snowflake shaped clasps, patterns of frosted wheat sprigs and winter solstices, and blue star fields on pooling fabric trains. It was worth noting that their tiaras were set aside, given how this get-together was "off the clock", so to speak.

"Sister, remind us to personally offer our gratitude to that musical artist for her considerate gift" Princess Luna piped up from her cocoa to her sibling. Ostensibly, neither of them were paying any mind to my entrance, "Though we yet prefer a live minstrel to any machine, this music is still fascinating and wondrous"

"And entirely novel, sister mine" Celestia replied, her eyes closed and a satisfied grin on her lips, her bare feet bobbing to the tune, "Especially if I haven't heard anything like it in all of my Hearth Warmings"

"I like it" My favorite lyrist in the world, Lyra, absently inputted, enraptured as she was with examining the showy ornaments that were dangling on the branches of a truly enormous Pine tree in the corner, "It reminds me of the days I spent building snowmen by myself on Persimmon Lane when I was a girl"

"And I am certain Vinyl Scratch would love to receive such stirring accolades from you, Princess Luna" Octavia added her own two cents from the love seat that she shared with a bored, pouty faced Prince Blueblood, "We know each other well enough that I can recognize the spark of her magic on that disc" She lightly elucidated at Blue's questioning stare.

"In a roundabout way, I am also responsible for this gift," I interjected neutrally as I slinked to the room's center, "seeing as I'm the one who let Vinyl borrow my music device in the first place… though I don't recall giving her permission to just distribute samples of my music library willy-nilly"

I was going to have to have a chat with her about that someday.

"Zenith!"

"Zenith!"

I was rapidly embraced by two very spirited women, both of whom proceeded to lean up and plant kisses upon my cheeks, Octavia emitting a husky grunt as she got a whiff of my cologne. Still not mentally or physically habituated to this type of shared love, I struggled not to clam up and diffidently accepted their affection (which was practically pulsing from Octavia like solar eruptions. And I did not need a blood bound connection with Lyra to know that she felt similarly) with a shaky smile.

'Get it together, pal! They love you, and you would do anything for them. That is final!' I chided myself for my indecisiveness.

I rubbed at the back of my head with a unrestrained hand, "Geez, one would think that both of you haven't seen me in months with that kind of greeting"

"No, you silly man!" Lyra winked at me, "Look up!"

I did. Hanging overhead was a bunch of mistletoe. A suspicious occurrence, since I did not detect it there until just then. A mischievous smirk on the Princesses faces revealed the culprits of this minor scheme.

"Huh, so I see" I acquiesced somewhat lamely.

Score one for those pesky Princesses.

"Holiday Cheer blinding you to your surroundings, dearest?" Octavia teased me knowingly.

It was a conspiracy I tell you!

"And you were so astute when you met my parents" Lyra poked fun at me good-naturedly.

"He does tend to miss the small things" Octavia nodded sagely.

"One among his many flaws" Lyra likewise nodded.

"We'll have our work cut out for us~" They chorused in unnerving unison.

'Are they actually ganging up on me!?' I mentally gaped.

If this was a portend of the future… I shuddered to imagine.

I was however, secretly pleased with these developments. Their 'female bonding' had been proceeding apace. Naturally, this may have been because there was plenty in common for them to associate over. They were both musicians, came from modest families, shunned the inanity rife in this city, and of course… they had me in their lives. And while I was immensely relieved that they weren't passive aggressively at each other's throats like I initially feared, I hoped that they would not become too accustomed to tag-teaming me like this.

I gawked at the two of them with a mildly betrayed expression, "I have never felt so outnumbered!"

"Get used to it!" Octavia tapped my chest with her index finger, "Lyra and I have been comparing notes lately and have noticed some… trends of yours"

"The self deprecation~" Lyra chimed.

"That noble self sacrifice" Octavia added.

"That snarky charm" Lyra wisecracked at me.

"A tendency to resort to extreme measures when simpler solutions would have been wiser" Octavia remarked.

"I certainly know better now than to sneak up on you!" Lyra indicated with a small, lighthearted laugh.

"Your reserved, dignified poise~" Octavia practically crooned.

Lyra chortled lecherously, "The fact that you're lightning between the shee-"

"A-hem!" My cellist cleared her throat in interruption, her face turning rosy, "Qualities that we absolutely adore in you" She went on to explain, "But we do not want you running yourself ragged, my dear. Not for our sakes. Not when your duties as a Crown Agent will require so much more of you" Her jovial mood dipped marginally at that.

I scooped the two of them into my arms, "Hey" I whispered, looking them both meaningfully in the eyes, "You two are part of my world. There's nothing I won't do to keep it that way. I understand and appreciate your concern that I'm burning the candle at both ends for your sakes. But I have a surfeit of strength to spare, and I am only getting stronger. Now let's save these qualms of yours for another time. We're here to celebrate Hearth's Warming Day, are we not?"

"Appositely articulated" Luna complimented me, watching the byplay between the three of us with a slight upwards curl to her lips as she magically muted the gramophone with a finger flick, "T'is a festive happening. Bury all thy fears and doubts for now, and let us partake of this Rum-nog that our newfound nephew swears by!" She declared reverberantly, as cups filled with spiced rum and eggnog materialized in front of us with a deft application of magic.

"Finally!" Blueblood leapt to his feet in excitement, "And let me just say how pleased I am that you were receptive to my toasting idea, Auntie Luna" He lifted his own chalice high in salute, which we collectively copied, "I hereby raise this cup in tribute and remembrance to the unification of the Three Clans, to the ascendance of my most Royal Aunts, to my steadfast companion Zenith's noble pursuits" He winked at me, while I just imperceptibly rolled my eyes at his prurient implications.

"And… to ushering in a New Year… may it be a kinder one than those previous" The newly reforming prince ended fairly lugubriously, perhaps thinking about his poor run of luck with the ladies lately.

"Hear, hear!" I loudly concurred, with the others echoing my sentiments before we took a long draft (a ladylike swig in Octavia's case, whereas Lyra just quaffed the whole damned thing, to the former's slight disapproval, if that crooked lip curl was an indicator) of our beverages. I had to admit that Blue had good taste in holiday drinks, with a ninety-ten ratio of nog to rum and notes of cinnamon, nutmeg, and other spices sliding down my gullet, sending waves upon waves of satisfaction and reminiscence through me. Fond but bittersweet memories were being brought on by the intense flavors of the drink, flashing through my mind's eye. Before I could help it, I felt a solitary tear run down my cheek.

'Damn' I cursed to myself, 'It's going to be a hot minute before I get used to this'

I felt a gentle hand placed upon my shoulder, "Is something the matter?" Octavia asked me sotto voce, those gorgeous purple orbs of hers glittering with concern and… oh so much love.

I shook my head, unable to hold eye contact, "Nothing is wrong, Octavia" I murmured, half believing myself too, "I just miss them, is all"

"Your family?" She guessed correctly, "Oh, Zenith" She drew me into a comforting hug, "There are no words to properly express my sympathies for you, but know that you shall always have us"

"Well spoken!" Luna boomed in agreement, breaking into our tender moment together, though not infringing upon it, "And now on to the customary exchange of gifts!"

With a marvelous display of summoning magic, a multitude of wrapped packages appeared at the base of the pine tree. Amazingly, the senses I inherited as the Earth Lord informed me that the pine tree itself was still alive and well, despite its roots being severed from the soil for decades (It remaining alive was another feat of horticultural magic). Many of the packages had familiar shapes, and I had to strangle a grin, lest I give away the game, as none of the packages that I got for the people in this room had the From-To stickers that they normally would have in my house. Those stickers generally denoted who sent who which gift, but these ones only highlighted who the recipient was. I wasn't aiming for a secret Santa exactly, but I did like the act of gift giving being an utter surprise.

To accomplish this feat, I had personally snuck in my gifts to the unassuming room that the palace servants who knew and trusted me disclosed that they were summoned from. That task alone almost made the idea of breaking into the prison under the mountain seem like a cake run. There were motion sensing wards, layers upon layers of magic arresting charms that made thaumaturgical tampering all but impossible, a locked door whose enchantments deterred those with ill intentions from entrance, and this 'Field of Confounding' that made those whose minds weren't fortresses unto themselves write an embarrassing factoid about themselves on a sheet of paper provided to them before sliding it past the threshold and rotating the other way to depart. The only reason I made it through unscathed was because Dichotomy's nullifying edge permitted me to no-sell all of those defenses, and careful attention to detail allowed me to outwit the other mundane obstacles. Picking that lock with an improvised fork tine was a right pain though. Skyrim did me a disservice there.

I made sure to obtain a whole pack of professional lock picks afterwards.

Evidently, the Princesses really did not like people going in there, if the suspicious half-glares that I received from them did not oust me as the culprit already. The reason for that may have had something to do with the other contents of the room, which I shall not mention. It was nothing nefarious, but it was decidedly private. Heck, if I were in their shoes, nobody but those closest to me would know of its existence, and access would be on a restricted basis even then. If my hunch about my body's longevity proved correct, I would probably have something similar setup for me in the future.

"Hark! It appears that there were more gifts than we suspected, sister" Luna announced dispassionately, inspecting a piece of paper with a crudely scribbled emoji face blowing a raspberry on it, like she could determine the sneak's identity from the poor artistry alone.

"So it seems, Luna" Celestia concurred, not fooled for a moment. Her piercing gaze never left mine, "Let us hope that their contents excuse the circumstances of their manifestation in our personal bower"

"Oh, I do believe they will" I fessed up unrepentantly, a mischievous smile on my face that I oh so rarely got to mirror towards those wily Princesses.

Score one for me.

"Zenith? Did you do something risky again?" Lyra inquired rhetorically, catching onto the interplay between us with a rascally smirk.

"Very little in this world is without risk, Lyra" I sagely stated by way of answer.

The minty haired woman scoffed at that and elected to be the first to approach one of the presents underneath the tree, which was shaped vaguely like the case of a cello, despite my best efforts in disguising it with the wrapping. She held it close to her nose and gave it a delicate sniff, detecting something odd about it.

"I recognize the smell of that lacquer…" Her head whipped towards me, "Did you visit my father's workshop!?"

"Maybe~?" I playfully replied, praying that she didn't notice the other instrument that I had commissioned for her that was buried close to the cello meant for Octavia.

The place that I had visited for Lyra and Octavia's gifts was an unpretentious and unassuming Mom-and-Pop type establishment cloistered away in a remote shopping strip that was known throughout the city as Musik Meisters (cheesy, I know). Since Lyra had alluded to it, I did some digging on it. I now had it on good word, which was basically the testimonies of dozens of musically predisposed nobles and commoners who recommended it to me, that it was the destination to go if one wanted to buy musical instruments whose quality could only be described as legendary. About half of the members of Concordia's Royal Orchestra owned hand-me-downs of their instruments that were cherished and maintained in the family for generations like treasured heirlooms, while the other half were on an impressive wait list to request an instrument from the pseudo-mythical genius that was running the place.

The reason I was able to skip that nonsense and commission two instruments to be made posthaste at the busiest time of the year for the joint was simple. The owner was the renowned Laurel Heartstrings the Luthier, Lyra's own father.

Turns out that restoring a man's memory of his beloved daughter and helping her out of an otherwise impossible situation (as unorthodox and intensely intimate as my method was) earns one a lot of clout with your loved one's parent. Whouda thunk?

Before I could actually bother to officially place my order though, the man preempted me and insisted (practically pressganged me honestly) that I join a family luncheon of theirs at their cozy home with Lyrica (who was Lyra's Stellar Mage birth mother), Skyra (one of Lyra's Valkyrian half-sisters, along with Dulcet Tones and Honey Chimes), and Lemon Breeze (Dulcet Tone's, Honey Chime's, and Skyra's Valkyrian mother and Laurel's other wife). All of whom thanked me profusely for returning their Lyra to them, not that she was ever truly lost in a physical sense. I enlightened them to their daughter's incredible resilience, making it through such an arduous trial of the mind and spirit. How emotionally exhausting it must have been for her to be surrounded by familiar faces, but be practically alone all the same. Yet Lyra soldiered on through the biting cold, hardship that was gripping her regardless; adding life, light, and music to people's lives, even if they didn't remember the specific reason behind their uplifted spirits. They listened raptly, captivated by my words, enraptured by how passionately I spoke them, while Lyra just beamed at me from across the dining table, her eyelids watery with potent emotions as she spent genuine, heartfelt time with family for the first instance in a long and lonely while.

It was a quality bonding experience for all, to be sure.

After that lunchtime exposition was concluded, I surreptitiously suggested to Lyra's dad how great it would be if I could present the special women in my life with a gift that was worthy of them. A point to which he wholeheartedly agreed, spiriting me away to his workshop once he got Lyrica and Lemon Breeze to distract their children with a trip to the Promenade, Concordia's premier shopping district. I think it worked, although the way Skyra winked knowingly at me gave me doubts as to my sneakiness.

Even if the metaphorical cat was out of the bag, it had been so worth it. To put it simply, anything exclusively commissioned from Laurel the Luthier was the equivalent of a Stradivarius, but with a pedigree of several centuries of magic behind it as well. The man was meticulous in his craft, a Grandmaster in a groove, operating his workshop with a single-mindedness that was quite frankly frightening to witness. Everything, from the selection, aging, and carving of woods, the designs imprinted into the metals, the make and tuning of the strings, the mixture of the paints, even the damn polishing job was done with perfection being the guiding intent. Laurel the Luthier did all of this assembly work in the span of thirty minutes with his own hands, in spite of being a Stellar Mage himself. It ranked as one of the most astounding feats of craftsmanship that I had witnessed to date.

I also remembered him telling me a story while he worked.

"We are each but a note in the Grand Symphony that is life!" Laurel had declared aloud with gusto, "Our role in history is brief, yes, the shortsighted among us would even say insignificant in impact overall. But those who truly understand know that without that brief note, the whole symphony is made the lesser for its absence. By the Stars! I felt in my heart of hearts that a note was missing from my life, but until you had intervened, I had not a clue that it was my own daughter! I could craft you a thousand instruments of mine and still the debt I owe you would be unpaid"

Something about his declaration was reminiscent of a quote that I heard somewhere, and a sentiment that I happened to agree with. But if each person's mortal life was but a note in some grand symphony, then what did that make the lives of those who were not mortal, such as the Princesses... or even myself?

"The Song of Creation is what shaped this world, you know?" Laurel continued as he tested the tune of several strings, "Which makes Music among the oldest forms of magic in existence, if not the eldest. The Song itself is still ongoing. Only now it is the Song of Life, and everyone is constantly adding to it. With each new person born into the world, a new voice is added to the overall chorus. As the years go by the tempo or cadence may change, but overall the theme stays the same. It covertly dominates almost every aspect of all our lives. Every time we join our voice together in Harmonious Union, the World sings with us in remembrance of this fact" He spoke in an almost reverent tone of voice, "But what not everyone agrees on is that while Harmony is a critical component that makes this heavenly music so wondrous, Dissonance is also required in that field to fully realize it"

"I know this very well, sir. An old academy mate of my girlfriend, Octavia, loves to include both in her mixes. They draw heaps of crowds to her place unfailingly as a result" I had responded. (Though she also seemed unrepentantly inclined to stealing samples from the music player I gave her to either inspire her or make something totally new. Remember kids, stealing from one source is plagiarism, but stealing from multiple sources is called research!)

"Ah, yes. Vinyl Scratch" Laurel nodded sagaciously.

I blinked, "You know her, sir?"

"I remember all of those who commission my works from me, son" He replied, boggling my mind at the mystery of what Vinyl of all people had commissioned from the man, "You see, my family has a habit of screening customers on a quasi case by case basis that's become a bit of a tradition as this point"

My right eyebrow hitched at that, "Screening?"

He laughed heartily, brushing a hand through his exquisitely styled mauve locks (this dude could have made Fabio jealous of his hair), "It is nothing invasive, Zenith. You see… the screening involves 'sounding out' a person's Inner Aria, their soul's accompaniment if you will. Based on what I perceive, I determine if they're worthy of my work, or if they have to go to the back of the line and rethink their motives. It might not be a strictly profitable business practice, but without it… I can't grant them an instrument worthy of Musik Meisters flawless repute, and that matters far more to me than the stream of bits keeping this humble workshop afloat"

I shook my head, "I'm afraid I don't understand, sir"

He shrugged unworriedly, "I didn't either when my mother first explained it to me. It's something that you have to experience for yourself. See, we use a spell that one of my ancestors devised ages ago that's been a family trade secret for generations. Speaking of…" The citrine Focal Gem on his forehead flashed and I felt a 'ping' of sorts reverberate in my arcane being. It was like I was a pool and he had flung a pebble into it.

Laurel closed his eyes and hummed pensively to himself as he listened to something only he could hear, not skipping a beat with his multitasking, "By the Princesses, Zenith. I have never experienced such a… multifaceted theme before. Just when I think I have the gist of your spirit down, it changes up again hard enough to give an old man like me whiplash. There are also these Earthly tones that don't precisely mesh flawlessly with your central theme yet"

"I'm… complicated like that, sir" I said, mildly uncomfortable with him effortlessly 'reading' me and my recent status of Earth Lord like that. (I hadn't even divulged it to the Princesses hitherto!)

"Hgh!" He snorted breezily as he regarded me, "Lyra told me that you had a gift for utter understatement, and now I believe her. None the less, you get a pass from me!" He theatrically conferred a thumbs up gesture to me.

"For what, sir? Commissioning work from you? Or dating your daughter?" I impishly inquired with a dry intonation.

"Yes" He retorted flatly, much to my amusement, "It's good that you're so thoughtful about your chosen gifts though. It allows me to work that quality into the instruments themselves. Whenever they are played, they will evoke reflective rumination in all who hear them" His eyes slid shut, a pleased smile on his lips, as if already picturing such an occurrence.

I was intrigued by that claim, "How so?"

He cheekily tapped at the side of his forehead, "That, Zenith, is another family trade secret. And one that I'll be keeping to myself"

He was an interesting man, to be sure.

"Well, I can't say that I'm surprised that you went to him. Daddy is the most skilled luthier in all of Arcania" Lyra admitted with pride, setting the present down and thankfully not immediately noticing her own gift.

Octavia, on the other hand, was flabbergasted by this development, "An instrument commissioned from Laurel himself? For me?"

The raven haired musician then focused fixedly on Celestia and Luna, much like a child begging their parents for the go-ahead. Fittingly, both of them gave her an encouraging nod, suppressing laughter at her hidebound behavior. It was not like they would deny her this.

She took possession of her gift and unwrapped it in an ever-graceful manner that had a hint of girlish eagerness to it that I found unequivocally delightful. Once the paper wrapping and cushioning were removed, Octavia unlatched the case and almost reverently withdrew the instrument within, gingerly holding it up to the light for all to see. The shining red gloss of the lacquer practically scintillated as its frame was illuminated by the fireplace. The sound holes sported on the immaculate body of the cello had been carved to match Octavia's treble clef Mana Mark (How that worked and didn't adversely influence the sound the instrument made when played was beyond me). The neck of the cello boasted a fretting board whose material qualities somehow prevented finger fatigue from long sessions. The porous quality of the aged and specially treated maple wood was partially what allowed Luthier's instruments to resonate with a rich, powerful tone.

Having seen the process of its crafting in action, I could describe the attention to detail that went into that cello. The varnish on the instrument's body was first applied with a layer of oil comparable to the oils used by painters, without fillers or pigments to seal the wood. Next a slightly tinted oil-resin layer was spread on its surface. Finally a red coloring that was derived from a combination of sources both mundane and magical was added to give the instrument its signature hue. Beneath the varnish layers were intentional imperfections that were made to remove the unpleasant harmonics that one would get in uniformly symmetrical instruments. That precise design element itself only further supported Laurel the Luthier's belief about Dissonance also having an important role to enact in the grand symphony of life.

To say that it was an absolute masterpiece of an instrument was an understatement at best, and a disservice at worst. In Octavia's talented hands, this particular cello's full potential would be unleashed upon the musical world with an impact that would rival that of a meteor strike.

My winsome cellist gazed at me with clouded eyes, "I never thought I would ever hold one of these incredible works, let alone own one myself. Zenith… I… there are no words"

"Glad you like it! It wasn't even that hard to obtain" I airily dismissed her apparent speechlessness, "You could say that the maker owed me a favor"

Lyra actually slugged me in the shoulder for my cheekiness, "You could say that I owe you a favor too! Don't undercut yourself, Zenith. Even if it weren't for me being back in his life thanks to you, I have no reservations that you would have passed my father's commissioning test"

"My thanks for the vote of confidence, Lyra" I sent her a grateful, meaningful look, "But Octavia wasn't the only special woman in my life that I commissioned an instrument for" I indicated to the package with a jerk of my noggin.

'God, the way both of their eyes brighten with cheer is mesmerizing' I mused to myself.

"You didn't!" She accused me with a sharp intake of breath, before realizing that I wasn't kidding, "You got dad to break his own rule? No, circumvent it!" She corrected herself with a slap to her forehead.

"Rule?" I echoed in confusion.

"Figures he didn't tell you" Lyra muttered to herself, "Dad never made me an instrument with his own hands, no matter how much I pleaded with him. Mentioned something about how his personal bias for me would negatively interfere with his craft"

"I see" I fibbed, "What made him change his mind then?"

"He didn't!" She shouted, a bit manically, "You commissioned this instrument for me, so my father infused your feelings for me into this instrument instead of his own"

"I… still don't understand quite what that means" I groused aloud. Though the short answer was: Magic, duh.

She shook her head, "Don't worry about it, Zenith. I've treaded a thin line on that private subject as it is" She moved to retrieve her gift, frenetically tearing the coverings apart (Octavia was still so entranced with her new cello that she did nothing to express disapproval of Lyra's ham-fistedness) to reveal a tasteful rosewood case containing a Masterwork crafted Lyre.

While not as complex or cultured an instrument as Octavia's cello, the lyre itself was no less magnificent for it. It was composed of a burnished, lacquered wood, giving it a shiny, if pale, yellowish coloration. The glimmering strings themselves were golden, seeming to glisten with motes of light emanating from the sun itself. I recalled Laurel offhandedly claiming that the strings themselves were fashioned from the heart of some exotic creature with a propensity for perfectly imitating any sound it heard with flawless accuracy.

I resisted the urge to facepalm at an abrupt insight, 'He made the lyre with literal heart strings… what a character'

Across the bridge keeping the seven strings anchored and under tension was carved a message in an antiquated, flowing text.

"This is Stellar-Script!" Lyra gasped in recognition, peepers sparkling with interest as they roamed the inscription, "To my dearest Lyra. May the notes of your actions, like your music, echo throughout eternity, never to be forgotten. With deepest Love and Admiration, your proud Father" She declaimed the passage, before affectionately hugging the lyre to her chest, "Oh daddy, you always were so taken with our heritage"

"What does that sticky note attached to it say?" I asked, legitimately taken aback by its existence. I didn't recollect Laurel including a note with the gift when I had it wrapped at the shop. Either I was getting sloppy with my observation skills, or the man had somehow snuck something past me without arousing my suspicion. Neither scenario was very reassuring to me.

"It's also written in Stellar-Script" Lyra noted as her eyes analyzed the text, "It says… oh wow!" Her face lit up a bright crimson, "I'll… just… uhm, keep that particular message to myself" She giggled nervously, snatching the note and sequestering it away.

Not satisfied with this response, I fleetingly engaged True-Sight and scrutinized the script through the note itself, letting the spell automatically translate for me as it utilized the numerous, diverse contents of Twilight's observatory slash library (To save on words, I shall henceforth dub it the Observabrary!) that I had scanned and committed into my memory. I fought off an intense surge of awkwardness once the message was subsequently and irreversibly deciphered for my brain.

'Well… at least Laurel's evidently in no hurry for grand kids' I cogitated dryly. I sorta regretted indulging my curiosity now. Given the wry grins on both the Princesses' faces, they knew what it conveyed too.

Celestia thankfully chose that moment to regale us with an anecdote, "Lyra, I remember your ancestor, Pluck the Lucky, when he first came to this city. This was before it was made the conventional capital that it is now. As both a musician and craftsman of all stringed instruments, he was an exceptionally talented subject of mine. To advertise his goods he would perform publicly, even narrating plays with his music" She frowned a bit, "While it was clear that he was gifted in music and storytelling, he could hardly get the people of this city to give him the time of day, let alone commissions for his instruments. Yet he continued on, telling the tales of people and places long since passed from memory, his face bearing a thoughtful countenance as he did so"

"You say that as if you were there" Octavia observed astutely, delicately cradling her cello close to her like it was a baby, a bow in her other hand that she had concealed on her person.

"I was" Celestia admitted, "I attended several of his showings in disguise once I had learned of it from one of the rare specimens of nobility that approved of his thespian artistry" She smiled fondly, "They made a wonderful getaway from the humdrum dealings of Court"

"Court? Humdrum?" Prince Blueblood was vexed by her choice of words.

"Sister!" Luna was mildly aghast, "Is that why you called for recess so often?"

Celestia sported an unrepentant grin, "Among other reasons. Though back then he was called Pluck the Persistent by his naysayers. It was not until he related one story that I revealed myself and personally offered to sponsor him, thus affecting him his 'Lucky' moniker"

"He told you the story of the Hero from another Time, didn't he? The one who saved the Young Heroines destined to become the Regents of the Sun and Moon from a villain with a heart blacker than the abyss" Lyra deduced, her fingers flexing and bending the strings of her instrument, but patiently not playing it yet.

'I also saved their mentor figure, but eh, who's keeping track?' I mentally shrugged, flattered that those adventurous days were made into legend.

The Princess of the Sun momentarily appeared legitimately surprised, "Why, yes, he did" She blinked owlishly, "How did you know of this?"

"I descend from Pluck's line, Your Highness" Lyra reminded her politely, "We've passed down certain stories from across the ages as a matter of tradition. How my ancestors knew of it, I don't know. I personally thought the Hero in the story was just a figure of myth until Zenith here told me of his adventures in the Bygone Lands back in the Krystal Kingdom" She glanced apologetically at me, "I still have some trouble believing it, to be honest"

"Can't blame you for that" I magnanimously forgave her skepticism, "I was there and it still seems fanciful in retrospect. Good times though!" I absently chirped, recalling the time that I had spent partnered with Starswirl very fondly.

"Yes, we owe Zenith much, even now" Luna piped up, fixing me with a solemn, but heartfelt expression.

"And will likely owe him more in the future" Celestia added, interposing her hands together, "But indeed, Pluck's tale was the closest to fact that I had ever heard of Zenith's foray into the past, barring Starswirl's own recounting of Zenith's temerarious bravery… and of course, our Hero's own account"

I graciously received her acknowledgement with a wink, enjoying the dusting of pink that evanescently colored her face.

"He spoke of you often, you know?" Celestia addressed me with a wistful voice, "Half the time it was difficult for us to discern whether he admired you for your valor or considered you a foolhardy rogue… perhaps it was a bit of both, in hindsight"

"Nice to know the old man gave me such dazzling reviews" I monotoned, though inwardly I was honored by his praise.

"We personally approved of thy methods, crude though they might have been. Perhaps with our gift, they will yet be given cause to be refined further" Luna stated mysteriously, "But enough of this plaintive reminiscing. Let the acts of gift giving resume!"

"Well said, dear Aunt Luna!" Prince Blueblood concurred, before espying his own gift from me among the pile, "What is this curious ball shaped object that seems to be for me?" He unwrapped it, unveiling a glass orb that was two thirds the size of a Palantir from Lord of the Rings.

As he held it up to his face for his scrutiny, a lifelike scene played out in its murky depths, depicting a bare chested, rose petal covered Blueblood admiring himself in the mirror as he flexed his admittedly sculpted muscles and struck manly, macho poses. He dismissed the scene of machismo with a startled shout, half out of surprise, half out of embarrassment, nearly dropping his gift in the process. It wouldn't have broken, even if he did fumble it. In fact it would take greater forces than what he could muster just to scratch the darned thing. Like Wrangler jeans, it was built tough.

"A Remembrance Sphere?" He whispered in disbelief, "But the scenes it recreates are so vivid, so… utterly lifelike" He looked at me, "Did you make this for me, Zenith?" To which I nodded, "Only a handful of Stellar Mages could even hope to faithfully recreate such an artifact" He asserted, in awe of his present.

"I'll be honest with you, Blue" I leveled with him, "I spent a grand total of five minutes making that"

His jaw all but struck the floor. Whether out of disbelief for my insouciance or astonishment at my adroitness was up to interpretation.

"Such humility, Zenith" Lyra elbowed me playfully.

"I'm not joking" I insisted flatly, "I made similar gifts for the girls back in Magiville. While this labor might be considered challenging to some, for me it was the equivalent of building a birdhouse with all the tools to speed up work available on hand… and a half assembled birdhouse. This is not me bragging, it's just a fact. I do have an inherent aptitude for the Arcane, after all. It's only natural that I excel at being an artificer too"

"Not to mention understatement" Lyra opined good naturedly.

"Yes, yes, I've heard it before" I drolly waved her off, "What do you think of it, Blue?"

"I… I-" He visibly struggled to get the words out before he cleared his throat and took a moment to compose himself, "Thank you, Zenith. With this I can revisit my mistakes from an outside perspective to review what I did wrong with better clarity. This way, I'm unlikely to make those blunders again. I can speed up my Penitence Project substantially. This gift means… it means much to me"

I simpered at him, "Glad you like it!"

I was pleased that he divined the hidden context of the gift; otherwise it would have gathered dust on a shelf somewhere instead of being used for a constructive purpose like the one he had described.

"And what of our gifts?" Celestia questioned me with a tone that had alarms blaring in my head, "There seems to be a distinct lack of packages directed to us with any trace of your magic or touch on them"

"Indeed" Luna was of the same mind.

"Oh, my dearest Princesses" I histrionically fell to a knee, "Try as I might, I could not conceive of a mere commonplace gift that I felt was worthy of your combined Majesty, let alone all the things you've both done to support me in my journey. ('Besides, how do you get something meaningful for the two women who could have practically anything in the world?')"

I made a show of bowing my head to them and placing my hand to my heart, "And so I will say only this: I am ever your stalwart shield and sword. Your benevolence when faced with malice. Your sincere word in a dialogue of deceit. Your cheer in the descending gloom. Your charity in a world that takes as much as it gives. The Magic that your Friendship inspires. Your torch to light the way… be it by the lustrous rays of the Sun or the soothing illumination of the Moon. This I swear, on my Life, my Magic, my very Soul!"

My words brimming with power, an overwhelming sensation that could not be adequately described coursed through the room, causing all the inhabitants in attendance to shiver, none more so than the two women that I swore the most binding oath that could be sworn to.

"Rise, Zenith"

"On thy feet, Zenith"

I obeyed, standing up and taking stock of their reaction. Both bore genuine smiles. Celestia, who was actually glowing with joy, seemed especially enthused with my declaration closely mirroring the Harmonious Virtues, possibly deeming that my time with the girls was doing me good, which she would not be entirely wrong to assume. Luna, who was less manifestly radiant (albeit the tremulous starlight in her ethereal hair positively shimmered), was still pleased with my candidness, although there was a steely glint in her eye that she would exhibit whenever she wanted to go a few rounds in the yard with me.

The two sisters shared a fleeting glance before speaking in the Royal Caps Lock in unison, "We accept your avowal, and likewise vow to keep faith in you as our Eternal Champion"

That same sensation, different and yet the same in equal measure, returned, ephemerally coursing through me like some unknowable force, engendering an exclusive impression on me. I knew deep within me that my bond with the Princesses had heightened to a lofty, sacrosanct degree.

"We do so appreciate this esteemed exchange of sacred oaths, but now we feel that it is our turn to present thee with a gift" Luna announced officially, "Though ye shall have to labor hard in order to claim it, Zenith" She smirked in that challenging manner of hers as her aura spiritedly pulsed once in anticipation and she vanished from the room.

I long sufferingly sighed, knowing where she was going before she had even teleported, "Be back momentarily" I imparted to the special women in my life with an expressive dimpling of my cheeks, "Don't be afraid to try out my gifts in the meantime, get a feel for them and all. You know that I do so cherish your music" My own magic flared as I found myself on the sparring field that Luna and I would use to sharpen each other's skills (Mine more than hers, really).

"You know what we desire, Zenith. What you and I both seek when we cross blades" Luna averred to me with a grand, sweeping gesture as she held Blue Moon in hand, its channeled magicks rhythmically pulsating like a living heartbeat. Her stellar hair rippled in an invisible gale like a banner of war, the stars reflected within coruscating like astral novae.

I briefly dipped my head to her, wordlessly obliging her as the slivers of Dichotomy left their folds and swirled around me like an eager tornado of leaves almost before I had willed them to, the shards assembling themselves into the full blade form afore inserting into the hilt that I had unfastened from my belt and stylishly spun in my hand. I held it up in salute to the warrior before me, which Luna honored me by reciprocating this time, before I settled into a defensive stance.

Given how Luna loved going on the offensive, I was mildly nonplussed by how she mirrored my protective action, settling into her own bastion of defense.

I idly twirled my blade as I chewed on this, 'Okay then, I guess she wants me to come to her'

I reviewed her prior behavior on the rare occasions that she did something like this. Luna was in actuality a tad lackluster when it came to defense, which she lacked the patience to maintain in a way that effectively contributed to her swordsmanship, hence why she routinely preferred taking to the offense in our spars, as her swiftness and ferocity were sufficient to carry her to victory eighty percent of the time. At first I thought she was just holding back for my sake, and while that was somewhat true in the beginning of our spars together, I discovered that I was legitimately pushing her to improve in this area. Given how the number of opponents who could stand toe to toe with a semiserious Luna in the ring were few and far between, I suppose I should not have been surprised by this fact once I had started to hit my groove as an aspiring swordsman. Luna would not admit it to me so readily, but Princess Celestia had no qualms about informing me that my martial progress these past few months was nothing short of astounding.

I tried not to let that tidbit swell my head.

My boots dug into the grass as I rushed at Luna head-on. She blocked a powerful vertical overhead chop before forcing me to disengage to avoid a kick to the stomach that would have sent me flying. I focused my internal magic, willing my already enhanced body to become stronger, react faster, and be more resilient. The rudimentary stratum of enchantments that I imbued into my robes aided me greatly in this, augmenting my 'buffs' and lessening the mental strain of feeding them mana to keep them active.

Luna, likewise, did the same to herself, and to a bystander the two of us exploded into a series of blurs and afterimages as we exchanged blows that would have shattered reinforced armor into fragments with even a glancing hit. I probed her guard with measured strokes and waited for Luna to change up the tempo of our duel, which she did by vaulting backwards and sending multiple clumps of earth at me with her magic, leaving gaping divots in the ground. Grinning, I countered her improvised projectiles with my own, testing our ability to multitask with telekinesis in the midst of combat. With the sparring field rapidly reduced to a series of dirt pits and craters from straight out of a First World War documentary and thus unsuited for fighting, the two of us engaged in an aerial contest, taking to the skies above the palace, just below the cloud cover.

Sword fighting while flying was less about sword fighting and more about outmaneuvering your opponent and knocking them out of the air with a decisive hit, and Luna was very skilled in the air. She would strike one moment, then literally fade away from retaliation the next in a torrent of shadows. While fighting her like this could get aggravating, I had devised a means of canceling her hit-and-run tactics meant to wear me out. I patiently lulled her into a cemented sense of repetition before suddenly casting a gravimetric bubble around us as she materialized to slash at me, increasing the local gravity that we experienced tenfold and sending us plummeting downwards at stomach churning speeds before I canceled it and fanned my wings to airbrake, with Luna doing similarly. Stupefied by my outrageous application of the spell, we both bounced off the surface of a castle rampart before catching ourselves and springing to our feet on the parapets with not a moment to lose. I blitzed Luna with a flurry of bone rattling double-handed strikes before back flipping and switching to Nirvana and Oblivion in midair.

With twin blades of White and Black brandished, I renewed the offensive before either of us were tempted to disengage and prolong the spar. This was my niche as an upcoming swordsman, and I was milking it for all it was worth. By sacrificing a small bit of striking power with my dual wielding, I basically doubled my attack speed, as well as quadrupling the number of vectors that my attacks could come from as a result. Luna's defense started to noticeably crumble and slip once I did this, and a well timed feint coupled with a reverse handed sweep with Nirvana permitted me to swat Blue Moon out of Luna's inner guard while Oblivion was leveled at the Princess's throat.

"My-… match, Luna" I huffed, rather winded from the intense duel, as I withdrew Oblivion and had it immaterially reform with Nirvana into my signature sword before sheathing the shards and refastening the hilt to my belt. This was a rare win for me on the record, but I was steadily evening the score.

"A little forewarning would not be amiss in the future, your Highness" Came the disgruntled voice of a grizzled looking palace arms-man, eyeing us with annoyance while his younger partner stood aghast in stunned awe of us, "I was nearly about to sound the alarm and scramble the Guard before I recognized the telltale brilliance of your blades"

"We apologize, Sergeant Black Iron, if our duel had escalated unexpectedly" Luna primly addressed him, "We shall have you relieved early as recompense for our impropriety"

The man shrugged apathetically, "Eh, I appreciate the gesture, your Highness, but you can just let Buttress here go home. Hearth's Warming is no reason for me to not remain vigilant" He thumbed at himself, clinking the armored digit with his breastplate.

"Very well, Sergeant. Go return to your loved ones with our blessing, Guardsman Buttress. A pleasant Hearth's Warming, to both of you" Luna imperiously bobbed her head to them, dismissing them with a wave of her hand before turning her undivided attention to me, her penetrating gaze constantly attempting to lay the depths of my soul bare.

"Well fought, Zenith…" Luna conceded to me with a deep breath as she securely sheathed her blade, "…and well earned"

She teleported us back to the chamber, where the twin tones of two instruments being tentatively played rang in the air. Neither Octavia nor Lyra were genuinely playing anything coherent, instead being ostensibly content just to experiment with their gifts. They somehow never stepped on each other's notes while they did so either. I was unsure if that degree of coordination was intentional, or some sort of allusion.

"What's this I hear of the training fields being transformed into a startling representation of the badlands? Were you sparring, or gardening?" Celestia poked fun at us from her reclined position on the sofa.

This woman even made lazing look regal.

Luna rolled her eyes at her taller sibling's teasing sense of humor, "It shall be remedied expeditiously, sister, rest assured of that"

"What kind of gift has to be earned?" I rhetorically asked in reference to her earlier statement; drinking in the disparate musical notes produced by a cello and lyre respectively.

"The kind so graciously given to you by us" Luna verbally riposted, not a beat missed, "Behold!"

A metallic scabbard the same color of my blade and unlike any other that I had witnessed was produced from behind her before being held out to me for my reception like the way a child held out a watercolor for inspection from their parent. My magic aura brushed against Luna's as I levitated it before me, scrutinizing it from every angle. Its specific length convinced me that it was custom made for my Mage-blade, but everything else about it was odd and exciting in its uniqueness. It was affixed with these chainmail like adjustable straps that were durable and flexible, indicating that this scabbard was to be worn on the back. There was a distinction in outer and inner scabbard wall, namely, that the outside one only extended up half the scabbard's length in a fashion reminiscent of certain hip quivers.

The most immediately fascinating feature about the scabbard itself though, was this Dragonwall like mural etched into the flat, visible portions that continued on both halves. The artistic mural seemed to recount significant moments in my journey, from my awakening in Crystal Clear's home, my partnership with Daring Do, my arrival in Magiville… the works. I was shaken down to my core as the scenes illustrated changed, shifting with fluidic grace as new scenes took their place.

'How did Luna come up with such an amazing gift?' I marveled to myself, 'Did she somehow make this herself?' I confirmed this suspicion by seeping the item with my magic as though I was in the process of enchanting it. Given how nothing but Luna's trademark aura answered my own, she was indeed the lone creator of this scabbard.

I mentally applauded her, 'Guess I'm not the sole Arcane craftsman of this lot'

"I dub thee Polarity" I named it with a hushed whisper.

Still clutching Dichotomy in my grasp, I took physical possession of the remarkable scabbard and sheathed my blade, marveling at the spine tingling rasp of metal on metal and how the outer part of the scabbard automatically opened wide and smooth to receive the blade like the unhinging jaws of a mechanical dragon. Given how this scabbard was meant to be worn on the back, that tidy feature would surely come in handy when it came to drawing and sheathing my weapon. I equipped the scabbard, positioning it diagonally on my back in a right handed cant, and felt oddly fulfilled with my accoutrements. It seemed that the tassel folds of my robe would have to take a backseat from then on.

'Yes… this feels right' It would require some field-testing before I was fully acclimated, but in my Heart of Hearts I was convinced that this arrangement was how it should be.

"Prithee?" Luna began, almost shyly, in her distinctively archaic manner, "What dost thou think of our gift?"

Not content to thank her with words, I cupped Luna's face with both hands, ignoring how forward the action was, and pressed my forehead against hers, her Moonstone Focal Gem digging (albeit not uncomfortably) into my flesh. I then shut my eyes and empathetically relayed my gratitude to Luna via our bond, something that I inexplicably knew how to do, as if it was as second nature to me as breathing. Based on the fierce blush that adorned her cheeks, I think I adequately got my point across.

Luna is best Princess.

Blueblood gasped as I stepped away from the bedazzled Diarch, "Zenith! You can't just… manhandle my aunt Luna like that!"

"Silence, nephew" Luna commanded heatlessly, her blush evaporating as she schooled herself, "He has committed no ill deed here, quite the opposite…. in fact"

"Hmm… it appears that I shall have to rise to the challenge, to garner a similar such reaction" Celestia commented to herself as she rose from her sofa. In spite of Luna's wondrous gift, her sibling did not seem discouraged by the prospect of comparing whatever gift she had in mind for me.

"Regardless of what it is, I eagerly await whatever it is that you show me" I remarked, my spirits uplifted and the sting of not being able to share this pseudo-Christmas with family partially mitigated.

"And wait you shall" Celestia replied with her signature troll's smirk, "Regrettably it is nearing time to attend to our many Hearth's Warming duties. Come join us in the Royal Theatre once you are ready" She said as she elegantly swept out of the room, with her sister and Blueblood shadowing not far behind.

I was then left alone in the chambers with my two favorite musicians.

"Zenith, the way you thanked Princess Luna for her gift" Octavia had a hand gripped to her mouth, masking her expression, "It was beautiful… like a soundless symphony of emotion. I can only hope to engender such emotions from my own forays into composing"

"I don't quite have the same empathic ties you two share, so I'll just take Octy's word for it" Lyra shrugged as she packed her lyre, voice admirably devoid of jealousy.

"I thought we agreed that nickname was off limits! I don't care for when Vinyl uses it and it's somehow more vexing when you do it" The cellist snapped brusquely, delicately laying her cello in her own protective case and forcing the clasps shut.

"It's hard though!" Lyra faux-whined, "You're the only one here whose name isn't two syllables. I can't help it shortening it!"

"Ladies, ladies!" I held up my hands pleadingly, "Can we please just enjoy the next five minutes of solitude peacefully together?"

"I suppose we can formalize a truce of sorts" Octavia gave a ladylike sniff, "After all, it will require the both of us working in concert to unveil our present to you this evening"

"And what might that be?" I asked them, legitimately curious what they meant.

They leaned in and whispered into my ears.

"Oh… oh wow… That could be fun" I vocalized as I planted my rear on the couch in surprise, a tidal wave of warmth flushing my cheeks, making the duo giggle at my uncharacteristic reaction.

"Merry Christmas, my snark knight" Lyra nuzzled me on my left.

"Merry Christmas, my heroic savior" Octavia planted a chaste kiss on my face from the right.

"Happy Hearth's Warming, my loves" I responded, with a small, but truly fulfilled smile gracing my lips as I held the two of them close to me.

"Aren't we lucky that his shoulders aren't bony?" Lyra piped up after a moment, ruining the silence of our cuddling.

Octavia melodramatically shivered in my grasp, "That would be unpleasant, yes. Bony shoulders make for atrocious headrests"

"Knock it off, you two!" I chortled, amused at their interplay despite myself.

⁂

It was a traditional event to raise the Flag on Hearth's Warming Day, celebrating the Unification of the Clans and the founding of Arcania under the compassionate rule of the Princesses. As one can imagine, pageantry of all kinds was involved. The most popular of which was the showing of plays commemorating important historical events, such as the founding itself, and other important events in Arcania's history. This did not mean that the plays were solely limited to nonfiction. Indeed, the number of fictional plays in production outnumbered the historical stuff by a fair margin. Even in a world of magic and other fanciful things, people preferred their make-believe. The latest such craze to sweep the capital was called 'The Plenipotentiary and the Princess' which was adapted from the opera version that I all but refused to go see with Rarity that one time. It had gained such traction as to be slotted for presentation after the traditional Hearth's Warming play that drew in people from all across Arcania to the Capital.

Which is why I currently found myself bored out of my mind, one elbow propping my head up as it rested on a plush leather armrest inside the roomy box seat booth that was reserved for the Princesses and their esteemed guests.

Lyra and Octavia had declined to accompany me and stave off my mounting misery, begging their leave to attend to preparations they had to make for our special evening. The reminder of which caused twin jolts of excitement and trepidation to shoot through my body, momentarily dulling my ennui. I was seated next to the Regent of the Sun, almost missing the pins-and-needles signal that the weight of my head supported by my wrist and elbow would once effectuate (But alas! My Trifect physiology was too robust for such mundane sensations!), while Luna and Blueblood were further adjacent to me. Blueblood looked similarly jaded to myself, while Luna was adorably glued to the edge of her seat. I supposed that she wasn't around for a lot of the history that these plays were reenacting, so her vested interest in their portrayed events was understandable.

Meanwhile I was nearly at my wits end with boredom. I didn't understand the context for many of these plays, and while they may have been vetted, they almost universally lacked any elements of dynamic action, shadowy intrigue, or exuberant swashbuckling that would normally magnetize my attentiveness. In my estimation the only thing these plays had going for them were their diverse and physically striking costumes. I was sure that a certain boutique proprietor would love to weigh in on that opinion, not that she'd ever discover it.

"Oh chin up, Zenith! This is only a yearly occurrence and one of the more enjoyable happenings requiring our presence this season" Princess Celestia chided me soothingly from her chair, her pose mirroring mine with the exception that she managed to look engaged. Ever the Public Relations expert, that one.

"Requiring your presence, not mine" I emphasized to her, "If my own parents and grandparents failed to instill any sort of patience for this kind of thing in me, what makes you think your chances are any better?"

"Because you're doing it for me?" She sighed at my flat look, "A fair point," She admitted, "but I didn't bring you here to bore you with seasonal plays, Zenith, but to talk shop. I simply didn't wish to mix business and pleasure at the same time"

Something about that last part, "Wait…" My head swiveled in her direction, "So you do admit that these plays are stodgy, lackluster snooze fests!"

Celestia clicked her tongue in a rare display of frustration, "I admit no such thing. Now, as an Agent of the Crown, debrief me in your own words the events surrounding Appleloosa and the recent acquisition of a Shard of Sheol"

I scoffed, "What? Are my written reports not good enough for you?"

I only received an equally flat stare in response, "Fine. Regarding the Appleloosa affair, I must commend the leadership skills of Captain Rockwall. Without his help and that of his men, things could have gotten a lot dicier for the townsfolk"

"Hence why I dispatched them" She pointed out, moderately wryly.

I ignored her interruption, "Braeburn and Strongheart's wedding was a charming, if uncommon occurrence. The Buffalo Brave tribesmen are ostensibly allied with Arcania as a result, though I wouldn't recommend relying too hard on them for anything beside mutual defense. Their Chieftain must put his people's needs first" I went on, "But the real treasure was what few documents I managed to recover from Flim Skim"

And what a bounty of information those documents, once salvaged, were. Turns out that they had a benefactor in Gryphondria that had been illegally smuggling those antiquated firearms into the country and arming unsavory individuals with them. For what ultimate purpose was unknown, although the usual suspects were greed and a desire to spread havoc. The matter warranted additional investigation.

"It reflects a personal failing on my part that he and his brother were driven to the point that they would turn on their own people for profit's sake" Celestia steepled her hands to her chin, her eyes not as bright as they usually were.

"Not your fault, Sunshine" I reassured her, "Those men… they made their choices, and paid a terrible price for them… as did many others as a consequence. Several of them innocents" I swallowed and my shoulders sagged slightly, "I'm beginning to actually understand the weight of the burdens you must carry"

"I would rather spare you that burden" Celestia dryly countered, "But my own feelings on the subject are irrelevant" Her piercing stare was downright unsettling then, "You will become the Prince that we all need… because the alternatives are unthinkable"

"No pressure, right?" I tried to grin at her, but couldn't muster the necessary impertinence the way I normally could, "But if what that one Shard of Sheol showed me before I subdued it was any indication… you're more correct than you know"

There was an intermission announced before the commencement of the following play, allowing the members of the audience to relieve themselves and purchase snacks and drinks at the concession stands. Were it not for the fact that there were no silver screens here, it would have felt like any weekend at the movies. Luna got up to avail herself of one stand that was selling cups that were replete with ginger snaps, while Blueblood quietly thumbed through a How-to Guide on the basics of Atonement for Solecisms. Neither of the two of them were paying Celestia nor I any attention, but I knew how foolish it was to presume Luna fully ignorant of our conversation.

"I have no right to ask you to relieve that memory…" Celestia began before I cut her off.

"No. You need to know" I took a steadying breath, letting it out slowly as I recalled memories that I'd rather erase than retain, "The Shards of Sheol must never be touched by mortal hands. Just making contact with that thing, very nearly overwhelmed me. I say this having been momentarily excommunicated with my magic that it was the worst that I have ever bodily felt, and would likely turn others insane just from exposure to its mere presence. Worrisomely, what I experienced within was somehow worse"

"I was warned by someone very old and very wise, if a bit misled, that telling anyone of this would mark them as targets, but I know that you and Luna are both capable of looking after yourselves" I favored her with a fond wrinkling of my eyelids, "I know not for sure if it really was him or some devilishly convincing illusion, but I encountered the shade of Ahuizotl in some sort of spiritual plane ('One that I believe was possible to visit without the Dissonance's help'). He was oddly chummy for the first man I ever killed. He thanked me for deifying him by uniting him with the Dissonance"

I appreciated the Princess for remaining mute as I explained this, given how trying the whole experience was for me.

"Novice that I was, I had little agency of my own inside that plane, and was essentially at his mercy" I paused, vicariously reliving those uncomfortable moments, "He showed me his origins, tragic as they were. His people are a dying breed, descendants of a once great but now trifling civilization, and they were not that numerous to start with"

"Do you know what they called themselves?" Celestia finally interjected, to which I responded in the negative, "Perhaps there are records in the Royal Archives that might shed some light on the mystery. We've seen and learned a great deal about the rest of the world in the ensuing years since Arcania's founding, and all of it is recorded in there"

"I have no doubt that you're right. But Daring Do interacted with the man on a fairly regular basis from what I understand" I recalled, "She may know more about him and his than your Archives might educate me on"

Celestia arched a brow, "Given how she is on assignment and rarely sees fit to update me of her activities, that might be a challenge. You could also write to Jomar" She reminded me of the recently assimilated man, "Mercenary though he was, he could also be able to elucidate on his employer's origins"

"Possibly" I said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, "How is Daring doing lately, anyway?"

She made a noncommittal hum, "My other Agent's task proceeds apace"

I also made a noncommittal noise, "She's giving you the silent treatment, isn't she?" I continued when her minute glare confirmed it, "I hope she's not getting into too much trouble right now"

"You know better than to tempt fate like that, Zenith" She scolded me, "I will endeavor to make her aware of the dangers of physically interacting with the Shards. Although, knowing her, she'll devise an inadvisable way around their madness inducing properties with or without my aid. But let us return to your recount of events"

I obliged her, "He showed me the plight of his people and how he became something of a last hope for them, tried to guilt me into thinking I doomed his tribe by killing him. I didn't take the bait, if you were wondering" I forestalled another interjection, "But that doesn't mean I won't lend a hand to his people if I come across them in my travels. His people did suffer great loss, the kind that would change anybody. The night that Ahuizotl became the man he was, his father died in battle. His people had been attacked en masse by these monstrous creatures called Krudakts"

"Daring has encountered these creatures before," She told me, "Croc-men she calls them"

I snorted at Daring's unrefined naming sense, "Of course she does. Things didn't go well for Ahuizotl's people, with many of them falling to the Krudakts' razor sharp claws. After hearing his last words, he took up his father's sword and led what remained of his kinsmen into a temple situated next to the village. Using his father's sword as a key, he accessed an inner portion of the temple, where this Krudakt shaped idol of bone lay in wait. If I had to hazard a guess, that idol had something to do with the Dissonance. It felt… triumphant when Ahuizotl broke it" I frowned in thought, "Was there some kind of seal placed on it? Come to think of it, the circumstances of the sudden onslaught of Krudakt on their village was suspicious too"

She nodded affirmatively, "It's quite likely that this primordial threat is engineering its own return, using the medium of the Shards as a conduit, which makes the recovery and safeguarding of these fragments all the more imperative. Although, from all observation, the specimen that you brought me has been oddly passive in its container. Tell me, how were you able to neutralize the piece you retrieved so effectively?"

"Believe it or not, most of the materials necessary aren't that difficult to procure" I winked at her, "And thanks to my latest… promotion, the limiting component will not be that impeding either"

"About that…" Celestia was strangely hesitant to broach the topic, "My sister and I have both sensed that you've changed somehow, but we cannot pinpoint how exactly. Your aura feels as if it is one with the world now and yet still apart. It is an odd, yet not uninvited deviation"

"To be entirely candid with you, Princess. I don't feel any different, personally" I shrugged, "But apparently being granted the title of Lord and Champion of the Earth and recognized by nature oriented Spirits comes with some unique benefits and abilities"

"Nature oriented Spirits?" She deadpanned.

"Let's agree to call them Earthfolk" I proposed, "Saves time that way. From what I gather, they are this world's equivalent of nymphs from one of my homeworld's mythologies, and as such are intimately linked to the Earth itself. I was earnest about myself and my intentions with one of their members, and thus all of them, and I already have the Constellar Congress vouching for me, so they simply finalized the decision"

"So you have inherited a domain" The Princess deduced with an indiscernible tone, "Much as we did. It's fitting, actually… for you to become this world's Chosen Guardian in truth"

"And I hope to live up to everyone's expectations" I inclined my head to her, speaking softly, "Especially yours, Cel"

She laid her hand in mine, "You have my utmost confidence, Zenith. No matter the challenges you'll face, or the obstacles in your way, you will prevail. You have already done so on several occasions now"

I squeezed her hand appreciatively, "And that brings me to another issue. Doubt. I felt it repeatedly while I was in that spiritual plane. I had only realized at the end when I triumphed over the Shard that it was not wholly mine, but the Dissonance itself attempting to erode my Will. A deeper instinct of mine says that it will do so again, but take another avenue of approach in the future. There are still five shards yet remaining, and IT will not be pulling any punches"

"I find myself agreeing with this assessment" She nodded, "But you will overcome this as well. I know this in my Heart of Hearts"

"Thanks, Cel" I returned, enamored with her absolute faith in me, "Truly"

By now the intermission had come to an end, with the theater patrons returning to their spots with fresh drinks and snacks in hand, although they were warned by the theater staff to not be obnoxious with their chewing. Luna had likewise returned, and was happily munching on her ginger snaps at a frankly alarming rate (My fat ass has been guilty of doing the same in the past, so I couldn't criticize this behavior). Blueblood was still absorbed in his book, his forehead creased in introspection. Then the overall lighting dimmed and the stage curtains were drawn aside, with whoever was manning the lighting focusing on center stage, where a man dressed in some old fashion bard's clothes was about to read from a rolled parchment off to the side. The scenery seemed to be the generic forest, mountains, and clouds bit, but the neat thing about the stage's background was that it was animated with magic. In fact it was so well animated, that it could be reasonably mistaken for the real deal itself.

"Long ago, well before the Arcania that we know and cherish was founded, the Three Clans: the Stellar Magi, the Valkyrians and the Agrarians were… shall we say, not as united with one another as they are today" The shadowed narrator put forth as the stage was backlit with symbols for the three clans respectively.

"The lands they lived on were across the sea, which have since sunk beneath the waves, and few remember what it was like then, in the spoken or written word, save for the Princesses. The clans back then were mostly divided by disdain or even hatred for the other clans and cared only for the welfare of their own kind. Each clan had accosted and demanded things from the others but were not willing to give up any concessions of their own. This cycle of constant infighting with one another over this eventually attracted the attention of ghastly spirits of ice and cold called Windigoes. The preponderance of negative emotions that the three clans cultivated were like the metaphorical ringing of a dinner bell" To emphasize, the bard rung the tiny bell on a stick in his hands, the jingling echoing in the hall with a magical effect. Shadows and the ghostly far-off shrieking of horses echoed in the background, causing many in the assembled crowd to reel with fright.

"Snow settled upon the land. Drifts high enough to bury a person several times over started to pile up everywhere, snuffing out crops and forcing many to abandon their homes once again. Even the Valkyrians were unable to subdue the extreme weather conditions, such was their ferocity" The background morphed with the narrator's words, and General Winter unleashed his unadulterated wrath upon the depicted landscape. The skies were blotted out by turbulence, the mountain passes were clogged with ice, and the earth was a blanket of white everywhere.

"The situation was becoming more dire by the day, and yet the respective leaders of each clan refused to come to terms with the other, each allowing old grudges and grievances to muddle their thinking. Stifling any sort of progress" The scene shifted to an auditorium, and the first bunch of actors entered, with two men and a woman at the forefront.

Credit to their actors, Chancellor Puddinghead looked like an absolute moron, trouncing about like a buffoon, Commander Hurricane looked aggressively gruff and no-nonsense, glaring at anything and everything like it owed him money, and Princess Platinum looked like the spoiled, petulant diva history described her as, treating everything as if it would get dirt on her immaculate dress. Fulfilling the role of background characters were several Agrarians dressed in filthy cloaks and rags, with bags under their eyes from lack of sleep and stress, agitated, armored Valkyrians clutching their spears with white knuckles, and detached, aloof, robed Stellar Mages. The attention to detail these folks put into their plays was admirable. Even the styling on Commander Hurricane's armor was true to form. Alongside the clan leaders were their advisor slash aides. An exasperated Smart Cookie for Puddinghead, a nervous Private Pansy for the Commander, and an emotionally drained, yet observant Clover the Clever for the little Princess.

The sight of them caused me to inhale sharply in remembrance, "I never did find out what happened to their relatives" I mouthed quietly to myself, yet Celestia heard me anyway.

"Tough Cookie lived a long and happy life by all accounts, passing away in her bed at one hundred and forty three years of age surrounded by children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and great great grandchildren. Some of her descendants are even living in Magiville today, if I am not mistaken" She disclosed, before shutting her eyes, "Maelstrom forged her own path once she believed it was time to relinquish command of the Guard, taking any who would follow with her and crossing the sea again, this time heading northeast to survey those lands. I do not know what became of her afterwards. And though you did not meet her, Clover became a renowned Stellar Mage scholar in her own right, as famous for her spellcraft mastery as she was for her biting verbal wit"

"I see" I whispered, "I am glad for Tough Cookie. Clover the Clever I almost know personally just from Starswirl's myriad tales about her antics and the hijinks she would get up to as his apprentice. Maelstrom's unknown fate is… troubling to me, but there's nothing for me to do about it. Other than hope that she found closure of her own"

While we clashed initially, I came to admire Maelstrom. My gut told me that one day I would find out what happened to her during that survey.

"I don't know why I agreed to meet with you ruffians in this hovel!" 'Platinum' loudly whined, her nose held high with disdain.

"Might be somethin' ta do with the imminent famin' all of us are facin' thanks to these darn Windigoes freezin' up all our crops" 'Smart Cookie' quipped, much to the false princess's ire.

"I wonder what's for lunch?" The fake Chancellor scratched at his nose, not mentally focused on the meeting at all.

"Typical Agrarian drivel" 'Commander Hurricane' snorted at his colleague's inattentiveness, "Obsessed with food but somehow incapable of growing any for the rest of us"

"Perhaps if the Skyborn were themselves capable of clearing these skies, then none of us would have to be here" 'Clover' snidely remarked, unveiling the Commander's hypocritical statement.

"Uhm…" 'Pansy' murmured with a quivering lip, "We've been trying to… but… the Windigoes undo all our labors within hours"

"Sounds like weak winged Valkyrian excuses to me" 'Platinum' sniffed in incredulity.

"What did you say you insufferable prat!?" Hurricane growled, veins visible bulging in his forehead.

"A sandwich sounds good right about now" Puddinghead patted his sides, which were thick with fat. That wasn't part of the costume either. The actor himself really was that pudgy.

Further arguments were sparked from there, with each clan accusing the other of not doing enough or even sabotaging the other's efforts to remedy the situation (Or in Puddinghead's case, musing about food). It wounded me to see how the 'sane' characters still had some disregard for the other clans, even though I knew for a fact that Smart Cookie was definitely associated with the Triumvirate faction, or at least influenced by them and their whole 'Unite the Clans!' spiel since her sister Tough Cookie was aligned with them. How much of Arcania's ancient history was remembered with fidelity and how much of it had been lost to the sands of time?

"Incensed with each other's stubbornness, the clan leaders decided to go their separate ways, dead set on solving the problem their own way. Miraculously, all three clans successfully migrated to the warm, welcoming lands we now call our home. The trio of leaders and their assistants decided to survey the environs from the highest point they could see, which led them to this very mountain" The stage darkened and relit after a moment with a new background, once that wasn't all that different from the view outside, actually.

"Yet, as fate would have it, none of the clans could truly desert the other" The narrator stated, "For lo and behold, another meeting of leaders was to occur, this one unplanned and unwelcomed by all three"

The trio of leaders acted most dramatically, shocked by the others' presence as they 'stumbled' upon the other. Surprise gave way to a familiar bubbling anger, and that anger gave way to hate, with them spouting archaic invectives at the other (Family friendly ones, of course). The background chime was sounded again like a death knell, several times with each insult levied, every harsh word bandied. Shades in the shape of Windigoes crept through the crowd, causing some emotionally fragile boys and girls in the audience to shiver and faint as it passed over them, their family or friends catching them but not departing from the scene, entranced as they were. The lesser trio seemed to spot the Windigoes, futilely shouting a warning to their leaders, but it was too late. With a shrieking wind, they were on 'ice' (which was portrayed by blue lighting as the actors stood unnaturally still, like they really were frozen) with the shadows converging threateningly on the lesser trio next.

I was so enraptured by the scene that I only just noticed a distinct lack of Solar and Lunar Regents in the viewing booth. Blueblood had finally put his book down and waggishly winked at me when he saw me looking at him questioningly. Remembering what I read, I connected the dots as twin flashes of Gold and Silver light burst through the theater, bathing all in the effulgence of Royalty. Celestia and Luna floated above the stage, appearing nothing short of Avenging Angels as they struck down the 'Windigoes' with harmless beams of light. Despite the cheesiness of the Princesses actually participating in the play and reenacting their brief but critical role in the Unification, the crowd went absolutely bananas for it, cheering their lungs out as the Windigoes were vanquished with a final, pathetic wail. Interestingly, the background had both the Sun and Moon out, bathing the scene in a sort of Twilight. It was an interesting detail, and I wasn't sure if that was what had actually happened or if it was done to accentuate Luna's importance. Either way, it made for a great scene.

Awestruck by the might and splendor of the Princesses, words were spoken, oaths exchanged, and the greater trio (who now seemed so much lesser in my opinion) were freed from their icy prisons. Realizing the depths of their errors, they readily made nice with each other and practically swore fealty to the Princesses on the spot. I was glad the initial exchange was kept short and to the point, as opposed to poetically lengthy, which was likely how that realistically played out; though I had doubts as to how quickly the change of hearts happened in the histories. Regardless, with that out of the way and with a few words espousing the virtues of working in harmony with each other that had the crowd metaphorically eating out of the palms of their hands, the Princesses disappeared from the staged performance as majestically as they arrived, manifesting once more in their chairs.

Celestia's smugness could have been a magical field in itself, "Still find these plays to be boring?"

'Crap, she's trapped me' I groused. I couldn't say yes without insulting her and being an utter dirt bag, and couldn't say no without lying to myself and tarnishing my self respect. Time to put that diplomacy thing to use!

"I certainly enjoy them more when you're in them" I conceded with a disarming wink, neither answering nor completely avoiding her question.

"I'll accept this" She gave a brief nod, seeing my tactful response for what it was, "Keep honing your wordplay, Zenith. It will serve you as well as swordplay in some cases, doubly so when you interact with Gryphondrian nobility"

"You say this like it's some imminent thing" I noted suspiciously.

"It is" Celestia confirmed, "I fear that you won't be returning to Magiville for the New Year. Certain… developments have seen to that"

"Rarity will be so disappointed" I muttered in dismay to myself, "Pray tell, what developments are these?"

"I received a letter from High King Aloysius the Vigilant" She informed me, "Though his health has deteriorated to such a degree that he had to have this letter dictated. After decades of correspondence written in his own hand…" She reminisced sadly to herself, "He is recalling his sole heir, the Princess Gilda Gryffindor from her accommodations at the embassy in the city of Baltimӕr and formally requesting that we deliver her posthaste to her ancestral home of Castle Stormhold, which overlooks the city of Kingshore on the other side of the Sea of Serenity, some several hundred miles away"

"Does it say more?" I inquired of her, "Or give a reason for this unexpected recall, other than his poor health?"

"No, it does not" She folded her hands in her lap, "But recent events and logic dictate that it has to do with the succession, and how averse to Gilda's ascension the King's Council is"

"Averse or otherwise, she is his sole heir, is she not?" I countered, "She will inherit the throne and lead her fellow Gryphondrians as Queen, as is her birthright and her duty"

'Look at me, speaking of duty as Royalty when I myself all but refuse to join their ranks' I internally groaned about my hypocrisy.

Celestia sighed, "It is not so simple as that, Zenith. The High Council of Gryphondria is not a mere counterweight and check to the King's power anymore, as was its original purpose. It has not been for many years now. Its members have too much accumulated wealth, too much influence over the Ways and Means, and too much of a reason to think of themselves as their own sovereign. If the council does not approve of his heir, they will not allow her to govern them. It might just spark a War of Succession, given what my sources have relayed on the matter"

I scowled, "That bad?"

"I am afraid so" She confirmed, "The Princess's own insistence on staying on Arcanian soil for the better half of her life has only exacerbated the matter, with many on the Council openly declaring her 'More Arcanian than Gryphondrian' now. Her father remains popular with his subjects, but his daughter has done nothing to cultivate the same respect, her claim to the Throne is tenuous, and staying here has only further eroded her standing with the people. Aloysius has previously confided in me that he feared for his daughter's safety as his sole heir, but now that he is genuinely dying, he has no choice but to call her home"

I hummed thoughtfully, "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"Princess Gilda will need to win the hearts and minds of her people in order to solidify her claim to the Onyx Throne" Celestia went on, "To that effect I am throwing the weight of our endorsement behind her, with a full military escort and diplomatic party in tow. We should do what we can to ensure a smooth transition of power with an authority figure installed that is favorable to us. But failing that, Gryphondria must not be united under a power that is hostile to our interests as a country. Arcania and Gryphondria have a long and storied history as rivals, but also a history of occasional cooperation, and its people have enduring memories of both facts. It has been a careful balancing act centuries in the making, which is now teetering towards the former"

Her 'Royal Glare' fell on me, "As an Agent of the Crown and our Champion, we charge you with conducting Princess Gilda across the Sea of Tranquility and seeing her safely to her ancestral home of Stormhold Castle for her inevitable ascension. Additionally we declare you our Prime Plenipotentiary, the official head of the delegation we intend to send with you to reaffirm positive diplomatic ties with Gryphondria"

'Goodness there's a lot of hidden subtext in that command, a lot of responsibility too' I thought unsurely. This would be largely outside of my comfort zone, but I could not in good conscience decline.

I inclined my head to her respectfully, "As an Agent of the Crown and your Champion, I accept this onus that you have charged me with"

"Very good" She stood autocratically from her seat, "I shall have you meet with your fellow diplomats… yet before we do so, we shall inspect my gift to you first"

"So soon?" I frowned, watching as a child from the crowd was invited up to the stage to raise the Flag of Arcania, which she did with enthusiastic fervor, "What about the Princess and the Plenipotentiary?" Now, being a plenipotentiary involved with several Princesses myself, I could not help but wonder about the parallels between our respective tales.

"Don't fret, Zenith" She smirked devilishly at me, as if amused by some private joke that solely she was privy to, "It would only bore you"

And with that, I was enveloped in her golden glow and whisked away before I could muster up a clever retort.

⁂

With a magnificent, luminous flash that was representative of her magic, Celestia's teleportation spell dropped us off on what was shown to be an enormous cloud. Given how I was still sitting when she so abruptly transported us, I only just stopped myself from falling on my ass, springing to my feet in an impressive burst of athletics. Stifling a huff at how overly fond the Princesses were of teleporting me without my consent, I surveyed my immediate surroundings. There were Valkyrians who were dressed like longshoreman that were going about their business nearby, loading and offloading crates filled with all sorts of goods from airships that were docked at the piers, with only a few even noticing the sudden onset of Royalty in their domicile. It seemed that Celestia had brought me to an anchorage somewhere in Stratopolis, given how there were adjoining individual clouds whose chutes were sprinkling painstakingly handmade snowflakes down to the Earth.

"My present is in Stratopolis then?" I surmised.

"For the moment, it is" The Princess said enigmatically, waving affably to her nearby subjects in that nigh motherly fashion of hers, "Once it has undergone its latest refits, that will cease to be the case"

'Refits? Is Celestia gifting me a ship of some sort?' I must admit to undergoing a boyish surge of glee at the thought.

"Come" The Princess beckoned me to follow, "Let us see if my gift measures up to Luna's"

"It's not a competition, you know" I mumbled to myself, trailing after her.

"A woman my age must retain some of her vices, Zenith" She replied wryly to that.

She led me through the busy skywalks to an elevated section overlooking the portion of the anchorage where the common airships suspended by a glorified balloon were replaced by the easily recognizable Floatwood warships of Arcania's premier airfleet, almost all of which were orderly lined up and ready to slip their moorings and ruin someone's day at the drop of a hat. Some of the ships stationed here were veritable behemoths, the equivalent of mighty first-rate battleships from the age of sail. Others were tinier and likely meant for quick response situations; the armed and armored counterparts to Daring Do's Maverick. Most of them fell in the between category, at what I would classify as Frigate sized.

One of those frigates sported a familiar light grey hull with the red stripe running down its gunnery line, proudly flying the colors of the Diarchy at its stern on a beautiful, rippling banner.

"Behold, Zenith! This is my gift to you" Celestia announced in a stentorian voice, arms outstretched with her usual grandiose flair mirroring Luna's.

I heeded the indicated gift with an appraising set of eyeballs.

The Skybex had unsurprisingly not changed all that much since the last that I saw it berthed in Stratopolis, save for the elevated levels of human activity occurring on its deck. Gaggles of sailors (Or airmen? Still wasn't sure on the designation that was appropriate here) scurried about, lugging crates of food and other long term necessities, medical supplies, and munitions into its hold (Which was being lowered on pallets through a grated opening in the deck). A Floatwood skiff, spacious enough to cram two dozen people, was being piloted into some kind of unfolding hangar bay on the underside of the ship. Dockyard workers suspended on hovering cloudcrete scaffolding were chipping off the old, worn layers of paint on the exterior and applying a fresh coating, while adjacent Stellar Mage technicians fiddled with active enchantments that resembled circuits and were were blazing with magical energy, as if they were scorched into the hull.

It was this closing detail that had me activating one of my special abilities for a closer peek.

If my Wizard-Vision did not deceive me (and these eyes saw with impeccable clarity when it came to the nuances of magic), then those arcane technicians were experimenting with some kind of active camouflage system that would make the ship all but indiscernible from its environment to an external observer, which was cool as all get-out. The glaring problem here was that they were being met with limited success in implementing it entirely; with only portions of the hull appearing to flicker and blend in to match the background of the sky, although those compliant parts were basically see through from my vantage point. I would have to make inquiries into fully realizing such capabilities later, as the ability to mask my ship and become a phantom in the skies was too grand of an opportunity to pass up on.

I was already fantasizing about the pirate-esque crap I could pull off with that just that one feature. With effective invisibility I could drop out of the clouds onto unsuspecting enemy vessels, wreak absolute havoc, and swiftly disappear without a trace… like a true ghost ship. On the open sea, this sort of feature would be ridiculous. In the open skies, it was borderline overpowered. The military applications of even temporarily or conditionally stealthed naval vessels could not be understated. If your enemy could not see you, then they could not hope to fight you on anything but your terms. It was an advantage that I hoped all of the Crown's vessels had in their arsenal, as unlikely as that hope was, since it was just so powerful and as I could tell, came with inherent practical difficulties that balanced it out. None the less, I metaphorically rubbed my palms together and salivated over this prospect.

Airships, a grouping that contained a broad assortment of vehicles befitting the name, were not as commercially available throughout Arcania as their water bound counterparts were. They were typically toys for the rich, military vessels, or were a form of conducting commerce for affluent mercantile businesses that possessed the wealth to expend on their operation, upkeep, and maintenance. The reason for this was because airships, even the most rudimentary of the like, were expensive assets that represented the pinnacle of Arcanian thaumaturgical engineering. And this was before one factors in the cost of Floatwood Airships, which were what all the other airships wished they could be in form, design, and capability. A regular cargo airship could haul a decent amount of freight, but it would be slow and sluggish in maneuverability, about as maneuverable in the air as an elephant was in the muck. An airship built with agility in mind could be zippy and nimble, but it would sacrifice size and low cost materials in order to achieve these speedy qualities. A run-of-the-mill airship could be aesthetically pleasing, but one can only dress up its suspending gasbag so well. That people painted them to look like smiling, flying whales should speak for itself on that.

Thus, Floatwood ships were so highly coveted because they simply were not limited in the same way the traditional airships fluttering about in the skies were. Since they were not as widespread or economically viable as the usual airships, the scant few vessels in operation were restricted to rare, incredibly well-heeled private interests, and the armed forces of the Crown. Indeed, the income that the northerly city of Vanclover received each year from their agreements with the Crown regarding the cultivation and harvesting of Floatwood trees was a not insignificant fifth of their grand total, highlighting just how valuable the overly flammable wood was to Arcania's naval assets.

Another factor that delimited the number of Floatwood vessels in existence was the complexity of their construction. Floatwood as a resource was simultaneously trickier and easier to work with than conventional materials, and the vessels that were made with it were built to last for decades, if not centuries; and so they were not constructed quickly or in great quantity. The special coating that was applied to the woods to lessen their susceptibility to flames was worth twenty times its weight in gold alone. That Daring Do had her own personal Floatwood ship (even if it was a bit cramped for me) was a testament to her importance as an Agent of the Crown that dealt in dangerous, feasibly arcane relics.

So what Celestia was gifting me with here was nothing short of an amazingly fantasy fulfilling present. To me there was something so irresistibly captivating about vessels that sailed the skies, let alone having a veritable swift bruiser of a warship as my own personal transport. If I was not schooling my countenance, I'm pretty sure I would be crying tears of joy right now.

Celestia is best Princess… though my prior declaration still stands. I don't care if it seems hypocritical or ambivalent. It is the truth!

I might have been drooling a bit as I read the specification sheet that Celestia handed to me ('She knows me so well'). The Skybex was an airship that had been recently undergoing its fifth refit and exhibited such aptitude as to be a Prince-of-all-Trades (Such was the colloquial term used here). It was an interceptor, as well as a slugger of a frigate, meaning it could pursue speedy vessels like itself and take on other vessels as big, if not bigger, than itself and win handily. The hull was rounded at the bow, lacking a pronounced keel save for a skeg that was positioned at the tapered stern (seeing as it had no need for a traditional rudder) that two of its main engines were affixed to. The eight electrically powered engines (which were ultra high tech by Arcania's standards and suitably impressive by America's) mounted on the underside of the ship themselves were ducted, contra-rotating, variable-frequency, six bladed fans of a diameter of eight feet that had three hundred and sixty degrees of spherical thrust vectoring thanks to the unique gimbaled setup.

There was a crystalline, coruscating Arcane Core housed in the armored heart of the ship that processed the Ambient Mana of the world and transformed it into raw power, electrical or other forms, for the ship's loads, and permitted those otherwise unassuming engines to push the craft up to an astounding top speed of a hundred and twenty five knots. Such a speed seemed an incredulous number, until one factored in the vast array of ship wide enchantments that reduced or in some cases outright nullified air resistance (such as on the exposed deck, to ease the working conditions of the sailors), allowing the otherwise sizable vessel to be deceptively fleet-footed. I had postulated that if there was great need, the core itself could be used to overcharge those enchantments, thus abnegating all forms of drag on the ship and surpassing its written 'speed limit'. It wouldn't be a wise long term decision, as doing this would have placed unnecessary wear and tear on those enchantments and the core, but it was an option that would be nice to have in an emergency.

To summarize, the Skybex was fast, maneuverable, robust, and had a helluva punch for its weight class. In other words, it suited my tastes and purposes almost flawlessly.

I stood there, eyes glazed, metaphorically spellbound as daydreams of adventurous, episodic captaincy tickled my fancy.

The Princess indulged herself in a girlish giggle at my expense, "That is a rare expression on you, Zenith" She opined with a rascally grin atypical of her traditionally regal self. It was always nice to know that she could loosen herself up around me.

As for her teasing, I didn't care. I was having Master-and-Commander fantasies here… only, in the skies!

"Can you blame me? It's an exceedingly rare occasion that I am gifted with a ship for my own usage" I retorted automatically, "Remember that where I am from, this is the sort of present that Royals or people as well-off as Royals bestowed and received"

"Well, you could always officially take your place beside us" She further teased me, "Then it would be perfectly normal"

I rolled my eyes exasperatedly, "Maybe later. I think I'll stick with being awed like the common provincial that I am" I tossed her a box of Elysian Tea leaves that I had hidden on my person, "By the way, it turns out I did have some material gifts for you. I'm not sure what tea additives Luna likes, so you'll just have to share those with her. It pales in comparison to a skyship though…" I muttered the final sentence hesitantly to myself.

Her smile could have outshone the sun she was responsible for, "And yet I am equally pleased regardless, and I'm certain my sister will be as well" She secreted the box away and leaned closer, "So tell me Zenith, whose gift outshines whose? Mine? Or Luna's?"

"Nice try, Sunshine, but I refuse to play favorites here" I adamantly declined the bait, eliciting a cute pout from my favorite solar themed Princess.

She sighed in a put-upon manner, "Very well then. Let's go say hello to the crew, shall we?"

"Let's" I agreed, before taking the initiative and teleporting to the area of the deck by the helm (which was housed in this shack, kind of making it a pilothouse slash bridge). The sudden manifestation of a possible threat garnered an appropriate reaction, with the sailor-airmen and sailor-airwomen dropping whatever they were doing and drawing lightning forged steel from their holders.

"Good response time" I blithely complimented them, eyeing one such saber point resting on my neckline with a raised eyebrow.

I had to hand it to them. They reacted like they lived through countless drills of just such an occurrence.

The middle aged man (who was better dressed than the others. Had a fancier hat too) wielding the saber scoffed incredulously before sheathing his sword once he saw that I was no immediate threat, "And just who in Tartarus's stinking, black pits might you be?" He grumbled at me with a severe frown.

The Captain of the ship, (for who else would wear a bicorn with frills on it like that?) was likely a Valkyrian, given how he sported steel gray hair that had that windswept style to it that most Skyborn who utilized their wings did. Dressed in a thick, navy blue buttoned coat with unadorned pants and golden, tasseled epaulets hanging on his shoulders, he cut an imposing figure on the quarterdeck. He was tall and thin, lending him a sort of scarecrow like figure, but his solid, unwavering stance also lent him an air of seasoned command. He was also fairly handsome in spite of some signs of his advancing years, with a square jaw and aristocratic, aquiline features that probably had many a lady swooning at some point in time. He warily kept his hand on the hilt of his saber, treating me with a chary suspicion that I honestly could not fault him for. I did just pop in unannounced on his ship after all.

"He is to be your commander for the foreseeable future, Captain Gale Strider" Celestia sternly answered for me, a mildly reproachful gleam in her mien as she materialized with a subdued flash and stepped in besides me. Whether it was for me for my imprudence or for the Captain's gruff demeanor was unknown.

Probably for me though.

"Your Highness!" The man gave a brisk bow, clicking his heels together as he did so, "This is the man you've given ultimate authority over the mission?" He eyed me with those orange irises of his dubiously. It seemed I would have to win him over.

"I promise to leave the actual captaining of this fine vessel to you, with minimal interference from me, if that puts you at ease" I attempted to appease the disgruntled man. It wasn't like I had a crystal clear idea of how a military ship was managed, anyhow.

"Hardly" He scoffed again, "But I've little choice in the matter. I only ask that whatever you have to say to my crew in regards to commands, you run by me first"

"A reasonable request" I assented, before holding out a hand, "I look forward to working with you and your crewmen, Captain Gale Strider"

He took it, albeit reluctantly, and shook it, "And I with you…?"

"Call me Zenith" I filled in, "I trust that preparations for getting underway are coming along smoothly?"

"Well enough" He rubbed a hand along his immaculately trimmed salt-and-pepper goatee, "We have loaded enough materials to see us through a couple years of continuous operations, though the boffins can't seem to get some of the more tactically oriented enchantments they've added to the primary crystalline core matrix to play along. We've recently updated the Core, you see, and from what they've told me, getting the older enchantments synchronized with it while operating in unison with the newer enchantments is almost like bowling a perfect game while blindfolded… and drunk. Needless to say, it will take some time before we're running at a hundred percent effectiveness, I apologize profusely for this delay, my Princess" To which she waved him off, graciously, of course.

"I'll want to have a look at this matrix later" I said, before my brain processed the first statement and was dumbfounded, "You have enough supplies aboard for a couple years of operation? How is that possible?"

"There are storage units in the hold that have Foldspace enchantments on them" He explained casually, "They're also refrigerated as well, so we can afford to store perishable goods that the Captains of the older Floatwood vessels could only dream of having in stock" He was rather pleased with this fact, given his minute grin.

I suppose every self respecting Captain prided themselves on having the most 'modern' ship at their disposal.

"How many souls are aboard?" I prodded him for extra info.

"Discounting yourself and the other delegates we're to pick up" He searched his memory, "About two hundred and twenty, divided into four shifts, one for each quarter of the day"

I was unabashedly fascinated, "What do you have the crewmen doing during those shifts?"

"Stationing the various watches essential to the operation of this vessel, for the most part" He replied manner-of-factly, "There is also cleaning stations, educative training, preventative maintenance, meal preparation, and drills; which are an all hands evolution" He added with a pointed look to me.

I wasn't sure I liked the idea of that, "What would I be doing during these drills?"

"Given your capacity as an Agent of the Crown and my overall direct superior" He groused that last part, "You would be learning how to guide this vessel in my place, should I become incapacitated"

My eyes almost bugged out, "You want me to learn from you how to be an Acting Captain?"

"Stars above, no!" He denied vehemently, "I abhor the idea of anyone not proven to me doddering around with my ship, so you will be learning under my Executive Officer, Commander Stormbreaker. Commander!" He barked, "Front and center!"

From the crewmen an officer emerged, this one a woman closer to my age, a real bulwark of a woman at that too. She was easily the same height as Celestia and had an imposing build that somehow did not subtract from her feminine figure. Her attractive face was weather-beaten and was currently locked in a neutral expression. She possessed a striking pair of mauve colored eyes and wore her gray-violet hair in a long, braided ponytail. She wore a similar uniform to the Captain, only the fancy tassels on her epaulets were silver, and she had a more modest trilby like cap with a metallic A.S.M.V insignia on the forefront.

"You'll learn the ropes from her" Gale Strider elucidated, "And should you prove up to snuff, then I can sleep easier at night knowing that there's one less layabout on this ship. Superior or not"

I was a bit miffed at how little he thought I would contribute to this ship's operation, but restrained myself from giving voice to these thoughts. Begrudgingly, the man did have a valid point. This was a military ship, not a pleasure yacht. While I may have been an Agent of the Crown and a budding badass in my own right, I wasn't strictly a member of the Armed Services, nor was I accustomed to their routine.

"And the others that we'll be picking up?" I broached the subject, "Will they be made to prove themselves as well?"

The captain scoffed, "I've read the names of the others in the mission scroll. Most all of them had credentials notable enough to fill several scrolls of their own. I actually served as an ensign aboard the Thunderhawk when Gunboat and his sister Shuttleboat were appointed as ambassadors to treat with this newly formed Zstarasian Cabal that threatened to swallow up the local neighboring tribes and cause all sorts of havoc in those lands" His eyes grew fainter as he relived distant memories, "The two siblings were really something. Shuttleboat would be the carrot to Gunboat's stick. Together they were able to convince the cabal into backing down from their aggressive posture and peacefully coexisting with their neighbors, lest they incur Arcania's righteous wrath, in short order. You have no idea how honored I am to be working with such illustrious company again, your Highness" He directed to the Princess, who for her part was amused by his oddly boyish enthusiasm.

"Shuttleboat especially, I would imagine" She lightly teased, to which the man's cheeks began to heat up.

'How the heck does she read people so easily like that?' I wondered to myself, and not for the first time.

He abashedly cleared his throat and faced away from us, "Yes… well, I have additional preparations to oversee before we raise anchor, as it were. Stormbreaker, why don't you give Mister Zenith here a tour of the ship? We might as well get him familiar with his new command ahead of time" With that he wandered off, dispersing the crewmen who were hanging about with a series of authoritative commands.

The woman sent me an unfavorable glance, "Come" She taciturnly instructed me, turning on her heels and stalking off, in no mood to wait around and shoot the breeze apparently.

"Have fun getting acquainted with your upcoming shipmates, Zenith. I shall be waiting for you in the entrance hall of the castle to introduce you to your diplomatic team. Do not forget what day it is though. Once you're finished with official business for the day, be sure to spend some quality time with Octavia and Lyra. It might be the last chance you'll have for the foreseeable future" Celestia bid me with an impish smile before she teleported back to Concordia.

I grumbled unintelligibly about pesky princesses at that display and followed after the Commander, who hadn't slowed in the least to wait up for me. Once I was within arm's reach of her she began to speak, "This is the Weather Deck. As you can see, it is currently the busiest section of the ship" She remarked as she stepped around a gaggle of crewman hauling down a Dalhgren-esque soda bottle shaped cannon mounted on an elaborate gun carriage with Hydro-Pneumatic recoil absorbers being lowered from a crane.

The officer inferred my interest in the weapons, "New armaments and equipment commissioned and delivered straight from the main manufactory of Hammer Forge Industries itself. Supposedly they far outstrip the capabilities of previous generation cannons, even including those with magical enhancements. From what I know of them via hearsay, it is unlike the Hammer Forges to make something so radically different from their previous works, but apparently they can still make exceptions"

I was enthralled that the notorious stubbornness of the Hammer Forge family was so quickly eroded by the designs I had supplied to them through Celestia. Granted, no sane weapons manufacturer would ever turn down ideas for more effective weaponry, that's simply bad business. The windfall of my deal with them was also where I contributed a goodly chunk of my current funding. Turns out the recoil absorbers had applications that extended beyond just cannonry, wouldn't ya know?

I noted that the carriage was modified with rails, whose purpose was to allow the cannon to slide back from its recoil, which wouldn't be much thanks to the recoil absorbers, before returning to its original position. The gun itself had a breech-loading mechanism, and I bet that if I were to look down its barrel, I would see rifling within. It was top of the line equipment. Celestia really had spared no expense in outfitting her gift to me.

I was positively giddy inside, and I'm sure some of that excitement was leaking out into my expression, given how twitchy the corners of my mouth were.

"There are several watch stations posted here" The commander droned on, "All of which I want you to stand at least thrice before we move on to the more supervisory watches"

"I can see the logic behind that" I stated, "If I personally understand how they stand their watch station, I can better command the crewmen, because I'll know what it takes to do their job"

"That is part of the reasoning behind that, yes" She stiffly agreed, with the same unenthused tone, "Although it's primarily because it is a written requirement for all junior officers serving in their Majesties' Royal Navy"

"I am not one of those officers though" I pointed out.

"Seeing as the Captain wants you to serve on this ship like one, I'll have to treat you like one" She rejoined smartly, "There are four primary ladder wells leading below decks. Two forward and two aft of the weather deck. In the event of an emergency, the forward ladder wells are for traversing upwards, the aft ladder wells downward. Likewise, move aft on the portside and forwards on the starboard side during a Beat to Quarters" She favored me with a bland look, "Understood?"

"Starboard is forward and up, port is aft and down. Got it" I nodded.

"We will see about that" She neutrally replied, before resuming the role of instructor, "There are four major decks for the ship in descending order: The Weather Deck, the Gun Deck, the Berthing deck, and the Orlop deck; which also contains the hold and skiff hangar. The weather deck, and the quarterdeck in particular, is where the Captain oversees and directs the operation of this warship. Captain Gale Strider himself can usually be found in the Helm Room on the quarterdeck, which is that enclosed space on the quarterdeck that you so imprudently decided to drop in by" She clarified in an unamused tone.

"Would it help if I told you and the Captain that I admit it wasn't one of my brighter ideas to show up unannounced?" I absently scratched at the nape of my neck.

She perched an immaculately trimmed eyebrow, "First impressions have already been made, Mister Zenith. I'd say you have started yourself off at a disadvantage"

I muttered incoherently. Guess I did cock up first impressions acting spontaneously the way I did, but you can hardly fault me for my gusto!

"Please just call me Zenith" I sighed, "I'm not much for being Mister'ed all the time"

She looked like she wanted to object, but thought about it, "As you command, Agent Zenith" She relented rigidly.

I wanted to protest that too, but similarly relented. I was an Agent after all, and this woman seemed to be digging the regimented lifestyle pretty hard.

Stormbreaker resumed the lecture as we went below decks, "This is the Gun Deck, where the majority of the Skybex's firepower is coordinated to deliver maximum damage to any and all adversaries that we lay alongside"

I did not fail to notice how predatory her grin was as she walked up to and ran her hand along the polished gun barrel of one of the cannons. She erased her fervor and reassumed her usual cold exterior with imposing celerity as soon as she intuited that I was observing her though. I was willing to bet that this woman was a force to be reckoned with in the din of battle.

Natural light from the outside was sparse in the interior, and the gunports were all sealed up at the moment, so the only lighting that could be relied on was a series of lamps hung from hooks in the ship's centerline. Regardless, it was plenty well illuminated, showcasing several of the newly made cannons being maneuvered into place and inspected by the crewmen, who barely spared us an askance squint as they went about their work familiarizing themselves with their newfound equipment, eyes devouring their handbooks in a demand for their secrets. Most of them seemed bemused by the recoil absorbing carriage assembly and the fact that their guns were now breech loading. The ammunition for the guns was packed into boxes and in ready reach for reloading, which I approved of, even if one gal was confused by why the now cylindrical shells would not stack upright to form a pyramid. I mentally filed these details for later, since it could potentially become an issue that would impede performance.

"Do you think we'll be using this deck often?" I pensively posed the question as I admired the neat row of guns, fourteen on each side. The Stats Sheet Celestia gave me listed the full firepower of this ship to be shy of fifty guns, with sixteen on the weather deck, twenty eight on the gun deck, two bow chasers, and two stern chasers. There were also some ten inch mortars in storage that could be set up with high-explosive shells on the weather deck for siege operations.

The horns on the Skybex were no joke.

She was silent for a minute, her lips pursed in contemplation, "I pray that we won't, but we'll be ready when we do" She whispered simply, before stalking off to the ladder well once more.

'Why do I get the feeling that there was so much she was saying by not saying it?' I pondered, tailing after her.

Another level down and we were met with a long hallway that ran the length of the ship. Unlike the gun deck, this area was only illumined with artificial lighting, with several lamps brightening the doors with wooden plaques overhead labeling their purpose. The stilled air also felt… artificially conditioned here. A cursory examination with my Wizard-Vision revealed a simple series of enchantments that kept the internal climate of the ship at the optimal constraints for human habitation and comfort. It was a handy feature, that. There were myriad other enchantments running through the ship too, so many in fact that they formed their own otherworldly outline of the Skybex, appearing to me like it was the ethereal spirit within the vessel itself. I did notice some… snarl-ups in the flow of mana, however.

"This is the berthing deck" Stormbreaker inclined her head, "Although providing a place for berthing is not its sole function. You can access the Officers' Staterooms and the Enlisted Quarters, as well as the Captain's Cabin from here" She waved a hand at a door that led to the Larder, "I encourage you to verify that we are well provisioned for this upcoming mission, Agent Zenith"

Nodding, I opened the unassuming door, and had to resist the urge to react in shock.

The larder was bigger on the inside than on the outside!

Wizard-Vision had a harder time unraveling the enchantments that made this possible, so dense and yet so diaphanous were they, as to be expected of something that bent the very fabric of space itself to its will. Fresh fruit, vegetables, bags of grain, cereals, herbs, canned meats and jams, soup stocks, and a wealth of other consumable ingredients lined shelves that were crammed to the brim. Seeing my breath misting in front of my face, I could tell that the larder was indeed well refrigerated. I could see why Captain Gale Strider was so enthused about the improvements made to the ship's pantry. One thing was for certain; we would never eat poorly during this journey.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Stormbreaker smirked at me as I shut the door.

"It is" I agreed with no reservations, "Is the larder the only space enchanted area on the ship?"

"It is not" She answered in the negative, "There is also the Galley, the Captain's Cabin, the Staterooms, the Enlisted Quarters, the Powder Room, the Armory, the Heads, the ship's Core Chamber, and various storerooms and other empty compartments that can be repurposed according to the ship's needs"

"The more I see of this ship, the more I'm starting to like it" I opined, satisfaction writ large on my face.

She hummed in concurrence, "You'll find that the Skybex will continually impress you, as will its crew, provided that they're well led. Come, Agent. There is one last deck to show you before I have completed my assigned task and can return to my regular duties"

"By all means, Commander" I gestured with my hand, "Lead on"

We passed by some sleepy looking crewmembers exiting the Enlisted Quarters (which was obscured by a thick, navy blue sheet) and descended the steps into the final deck of the ship, which was thankfully as well lit as the Berthing Deck.

"This is the Orlop Deck. This deck marries three functions into one" Stormbreaker held up three fingers, "A Hold, a Hangar Bay for the Skiffs, and a Home for the Core"

"Clever alliteration" I complimented her.

She abruptly coughed into her fist, seemingly embarrassed about something, "Yes… well, that was how it was explained to me by my mentor, Lieutenant Nimbus Gear, back when I was just a starry-eyed ensign, fresh out of the academy and quaking in her boots at the tiniest of things. He helped me find my bearings. Most of who I am as an Officer, I owe to his teachings"

"This Nimbus fellow sounds quite adept as a leader" I commented, "Where is he now?"

She inclined her head to the side in a thoughtful manner, "He was rather adept… still is, I suppose. He retired some years ago after achieving the rank of Commander. Last I heard, he was working for a company in Steelhatten, manufacturing some kind of horseless carriages" She shook her head, "The strangest things come out of that city. A fitting home for him, given how outlandish his own ideas that he'd share were. I feel like Nimbus Gear found his true calling there"

There was something… complicated about her expression, yet I knew what she was alluding to none the less.

"Whereas yours is here" I deduced.

"A Skyborn's place is in the clouds above. Even if their home is on the Earth, their heart should always yearn for the skies" She waxed philosophically, "While I can respect Nimbus Gear's decision to cut his career in their Majesties' Royal Navy short to pursue his interests in mechanical matters. I will never be able to fully understand it"

"But enough about my misgivings" She precluded any further pursuit on the subject, "This" She motioned to one of the skiffs firmly clamped in place that I saw entering the Hangar Bay from outside the Skybex, "is a Cloudskipper, which is the formal name for Floatwood boats that are too small to be true sky-faring vessels themselves. It can convey a couple dozen passengers each along with moderate cargo loads and is a light and nimble vehicle capable of serving multiple functions"

I examined the Cloudskipper closely, noting that it had a set of variable wings mounted ventrally on its sides. It sported four engines that were essentially just smaller versions of those boasted by the Skybex, positioned fore and aft of the skyboat. The couple dozen passengers that it could ferry wouldn't be traveling in luxury, but would have to be content with a barely padded bench. Similar to as was on the Skybex, there were enchantments under those benches that projected a field around the Cloudskipper that negated the wind flowing over the skiff, as well as decreasing the air resistance for increased speed. The controls were towards the rear of the Cloudskipper, in a pedestal like setup that required the driver (or pilot, technically?) to be standing as they operated it. I would have to be nearer to discern the full details, but the controls themselves looked fairly sophisticated.

At the conclusion of the tour, Stormbreaker let me choose how to explore this deck. The Cloudskippers were suspended over the bottom of the ship, which could mechanically fold out to deploy and receive these slick little skiffs. A plank like walkway ran between the Cloudskippers, on the forward end was the graciously supplied Hold (which despite being space enchanted to the point of making the TARDIS self conscious, was the most boring room in the ship), while on the back end was the Core Chamber, where the real magic happened; both literally and figuratively. Obviously I chose to go that way, as it was clearly the ideal way to end the tour.

I wasn't disappointed either. The Core Chamber was like something straight out of Star Trek, although the resemblance to a Warp Core ended with both types using crystals and filling their chamber with a faint, rhythmic hum. The Core itself was three stories tall, composed of a colorless crystal (undifferentiated Ætherium, to be precise) that gave off a rainbow of light regardless. I didn't need to peer at it with my Wizard-Vision to know that it was the beating heart of the Skybex. The very air itself was supersaturated with raw, ambient Magic, making the hairs on one's body prickle, as it was being drawn in and converted into various forms of Arcane energy to power the ship and its mana thirsty enchantments. Stellar Mage, Valkyrian, and even Agrarian engineers pored over surprisingly modern looking computerized panels that displayed all kinds of parameters relating to the plant's performance, power output and demand, and overall core health on nifty holographic fields that interacted with a person's touch.

It was sufficient to have my inner self nerding out.

"Commander Stormbreaker!" One of the Stellar Mages, this one wearing some type of white coveralls that denoted his job as an engineer, approached us, "What brings you to us today, Ma'am?"

"Chief Engineer Sparklight" She greeted him cordially, "The Captain has me escorting Agent Zenith here so he can become familiar with the inner workings of the Skybex. Don't spread this among the crew just yet, but he is to be the man in charge of this next mission, appointed by their Royal Majesties themselves"

His electric yellow eyes fell on me at that news, "Really now?" He stuck his hand out and grinned at me, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Chief Engineer Sparklight. I'm responsible for making sure that the Skybex has Power, Propulsion, and all the other necessities needed to ensure that we can kick some ass at the drop of a hat. You can find me down here at practically any time of day. Hell, I'd sleep here if I could get away with it!" To punctuate his statement, he blew an impressively round pink bubble with chewing gum and popped it with his thumb.

The man himself was rather unremarkable and plain looking, with the only real thing of note about him being that his hair (that had a tinge of gray) was arranged in a faux-hawk hairstyle with the sides trimmed entirely down to his pale skin. He was also fairly tall, though he was thin as a stick. A beanpole was what Applejack would have called him, if she were here. He gave off a friendly 'sort of mad scientist' kind of vibe, which both worried and reassured me simultaneously.

"Chief Engineer!" Stormbreaker barked in reprimand, "Maintain Formality on their Majesties' Ship!"

"My apologies, Ma'am" Sparklight expressed his regrets, although he couldn't have been that sorry, since his infectious grin did not even shrink a tiny bit, "Though I only speak the truth in these chambers"

The Commander huffed, equally annoyed and furtively amused, "Be that as it may, I would hate to leave a poor impression of the Service on our future superior. Do attempt to keep to the professionalism that makes the Skybex a pride of the air fleet. Is that so difficult for you?"

Sparklight assumed a position that I knew as that of Attention, ramrod straight with his hands tucked into fists, thumbs in line with the creases on the sides of his pants "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" He responded, though the mischievous glint in those orbs remained.

Stormbreaker accepted this show of obeisance, albeit it was obvious based on that scowl of hers that this particular senior enlisted man was a bit of a rebel and therefore did not conform the way she expected him to, "And spit out that wad! You know that chewing gum is not allowed on watch"

I personally saw no problems here. Every good crew had its quirks, and in my opinion, the ship's main engineer should be a prime example of that. However, if I was to be leading these people in the future, then Stormbreaker had a point. Professionalism had to be sustained at every level. But on the other hand, I didn't want a ship crewed with unfeeling robots either. I would have to find a balance between Authority and Camaraderie once I was in a position of authority, I supposed.

"You got it, Ma'am!" He complied, spitting his gum into a handkerchief he had in his pocket, only to promptly replace it with a lollipop, "C'mon, Agent. Allow me to introduce Bexxy to you personally!"

"Bexxy?" I parroted, instantly curious.

I could sense Stormbreaker roll her eyes next to me, "His insipid name for the Skybex's Core. Not that it needed one"

"Nonsense, Commander!" Sparklight disagreed, "Once you spend enough time around this Core, you will realize how alive she is! Why, just the other day she gave me an electrifying kiss in hello!"

"That was you misaligning the Resonance Transducers, Chief" Someone with green hair, his head down, dryly interjected from their panel, not breaking pace with his monitoring, "You almost caused the manifold for it to crack too"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Lime Wire!" Sparklight shouted with a juvenile, pouty face.

I chuckled, "I think we'll get along just fine, Sparklight. Please… tell me more about this… Bexxy"

Beside me, Stormbreaker tried and failed to stifle a vexed groan.

"Well, Agent Zenith. Bexxy is just the sweetest thing on this ship. She rejected about five other platforms before she was slotted into the Skybex's hull and it was love at first sight. She's a lean, mean, mana packing thirty foot monolith of pure awesome" He sighed dramatically, "Did you know that we can't even tap into a third of the potential she's capable of generating? Even with full power demand across the board? She was meant for the likes of big boys like the Thunderhawk or the Tempest Deep, yet she chose the humble frigate that is the Skybex"

"Let me get this right, she chose this ship over others?" I inquired, trying to wrap my mind on how an inanimate object, magical or not, could even be picky.

He leaned against the railing between the workstations and the pit the Core was sitting in, "She sure did. On every platform besides this one, her Resonance Acclimation Factor was barely pushing double digits. But here on the Skybex? She has a perfect Acclimation Factor" He paused to let this sink in, not that I truly knew the significance of that, "That means that this ship's heart has no palpitations, no delays in transmitting power to where it's needed. We could make power demand dance and she'll respond with the same haste, not an iota of efficiency lost. No other ship in the entire fleet can boast the same feat, with only the Harmony's Song coming close. It's fate that she chose the Skybex, just like it's fate that we've been chosen for such a critical mission in the service of Arcania"

He propped his head on the railing with his hand as he stared deep into that rainbow glow, "It's a shame she's so damn finicky with all the new enchantments we've been trying to yoke her to. Baby girl isn't too keen on change, same as me"

"I believe I can help with that?" I offered him, "I have what some would consider to be a knack for working with enchantments. I might be able to point out what the issue is and help you resolve it sooner" I casually undersold my abilities with the Arcane Arts.

He waved me off, "Don't you worry, Agent. Me and my crew will figure it out ourselves. You just worry about leading this ship to the glorious future that I know it has ahead of it"

"Be that as it may, I would like to lend my expertise" I insisted, "Just at a passing inspection, I can tell you that you're placing too much strain on your Network's Thaumaturgical Nodal Points. You may have noticed how hot the distribution junctions around the ship have been getting; how they occasionally burn themselves out or fail entirely. That's because there's a lot of wasted energy being expended at each point. It's a natural consequence of utilizing such a powerful and responsive Core. You may only being using a third of its power rating at most for the ship's requirements, but the quality of mana flowing through those paths is much higher than a ship this size is likely rated to handle… at least, without making some drastic changes… or a complete overhaul of your equipment here. I would recommend using Blue Ætherium Crystals, which are well suited for this kind of task, with a cut and quality rating of Flawless at the barest minimum as replacement distribution junctions. Your usual issue Gemstones just aren't up to snuff to accommodate this particular Core" I went on as the people around me slowly looked up from their consoles in mounting shock. Some of them were openly gaping at me like I had just sprouted feathers and broke into a chicken dance or something.

I paid their disbelief little heed, my brain already 'In the Zone', visualizing all the modifications I could make to increase efficiency, power output, perhaps I could create a regulatory seal on each junction point to monitor mana expenditure and correct any discrepancies. But should I key one seal to monitor the whole network, or fashion individual ones uniquely tailored for each point? The former would take less work and do the job right, but the possibilities of the latter were so enticing. Choices… choices. I smirked as the Core pulsated almost eagerly in my presence. I think I found my new pet project while I was aboard this ship.

The head of engineering was surprised, if the reduced rate at which he chewed at his lollipop was any indication, "Huh… how about that? Sure, we can let ya help us out" His eyes were sharper than before as he 'saw' me a second time, "Gotta say, Agent. I wasn't expecting a man like you to be so… in tune with Bexxy so soon after meeting her. If I was the envious type, I'dve been green all over right now"

I waved him off in a mirror of his earlier action, "She's still your baby girl, Sparklight. I'll be sure to ask you real politely before putting my hands all over her"

He nodded, smiling in amusement, "I'd appreciate that"

One of the engineering crewman, an Agrarian gal with square glasses and hair that looked like a dollop of whipped cream was dropped on her head, raised her hand in inquiry.

I nodded for the enlisted woman to go ahead, "Yes, Miss…?"

"White Mocha" She replied in answer, "I don't mean to be rude, Sir, but acquiring a shipment of blue ætherium crystals of the right size and cut will place an unacceptable delay on our getting underway on time"

"The Sunray Third Class is correct" Stormbreaker concurred, "It would be weeks before we would receive those crystals, whereas we must depart for Baltimær before the New Year has come. Not to mention how troublesome" She grimaced, "it would be to route the paperwork for that kind of acquisition" Her lips curled in distaste at the prospect.

I shrugged, none too concerned, "That's no issue. I can just alter your current inventory of multipurpose gemstones into synthetic ætherium crystals"

Silence permeated the chamber at my declaration, the humming of the Core aside.

Even Sparklight couldn't restrain his skepticism, "Is that even possible, Agent? Natural ætherium crystals take decades to form out in the wild, what with them being crystallized supersaturated mana and all"

I decided to demonstrate my meaning, "Someone give me a fist sized hunk of Ruby. The cut quality is meaningless, purity almost as meaningless"

Stormbreaker backed me up, and before long a crewman dutifully handed me an ugly chunk of ruby about as large as a baseball.

I grinned confidently at him, "Thank you for not pulling any punches. Now observe" I held up the light crimson rock, "An ordinary ruby that has perhaps a tenth of the mana saturation that the worst quality ætherium crystal would have. It hasn't been cut or refined, and so its properties as a matrix for spellwork are poorer than dirt"

My eyes flashed and the gem in my palm shrank in size to that of a chicken egg, the tips of my fingers glowing with multicolored light as I coalesced the arcane energies inside and rearranged the internal structure, causing the now morphing crystal to be shaped like a two tipped pyramid on both ends. My arcane lapidary work had been boosted by leaps and bounds thanks to my labors working on my Christmas presents to the girls. Otherwise this might have taken me five minutes instead of five seconds. The final product that lay in my hand was a crimson ætherium crystal (whose specialties were a bit more… offensive oriented)

I tossed it to Sparklight, who only barely caught it in his surprise, "But even the lowliest gemstone has in it a capacity for greatness. All it needs is a guiding hand, some positive reinforcement, and a little attention to detail" I tapped at the side of my temple sagely.

Many of the eyes in that chamber looked upon me with something like astonishment or fascination. White Mocha had open adoration stamped on her face as she cupped her hands to her mouth.

Sparklight recovered admirably fast, "Why the heck are you even an Agent, man!? You could buy three large mansions in the posh districts of Concordia with this! There are entire businesses out there that would fight each other tooth and nail to acquire the services of someone with your talent!"

I cleared my throat, and briefly summoned and flared my wings. Everyone gasped at the sight, the quick-witted among them connecting the dots and realizing that I was a Trifect, and therefore wasn't serving the Crown out of a desire to make money (Of which I had plenty now anyway). While I detested announcing my status like this, these fine people would have to become accustomed to the unexpected if they were going to be accompanying me into the unknown in the future.

Stormbreaker had the gall to bow to me, "My Prince!"

"I'm not your Prince ('Not yet anyway')" I scowled at the reminder, "Just an Agent of the Princesses. Let me make this rather clear to you all" I addressed them collectively with a threatening finger, "Any of you start needlessly bowing and scraping to me in the future, and I toss you overboard… Skyborn or otherwise. Got it?"

There was a chorus of 'Yes sirs' and nervous nods.

I grunted, "Good. Spread the word"

Satisfied, though with my mood slightly spoiled, I turned to Stormbreaker, "I'll be taking my leave now. Tell the Captain that next time I'll be sure to appear and embark the Skybex the normal way. Thank you for giving me the tour, even if it was ordered by the Captain and a minor inconvenience for you"

Before she could open her mouth in protest, I confirmed that the Concordian Royal Palace's entrance hall was relatively devoid of people with Earth-sight before disappearing from the Skybex's space distended guts in a stealthy teleport.

⁂

I materialized in the still Grandly decorated entrance hall, which was oddly vacant for this particular holiday, save for the small group of people at the foot of the stairs paying eager attention to their Solar Monarch, all of whom turned to regard me once they saw Celestia's attention snap to me. Stealthy teleport or not, we were too connected to each other now to hide from the other's senses.

"Good Heavens!" An elderly gentleman exclaimed at my sudden, silent arrival, "So it is true then" He sibilated in sheer awe.

"What is?" I asked him evenly, dusting off some stray flecks of Core particles from my shoulder with an undulation of my wings, all of which vanished into the ether at my motion. There was no reason to disguise my Trifect status here. These people were doubtlessly in the loop.

"That we have a True Prince… uncrowned though he is. The latest Trifect to grace our fair world" The gentleman said in an almost hallowed whisper, before he composed himself, "My sincerest pardons, Agent Zenith. Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Argent Accord. I have been serving her Majesty, the Ever Vigilant and Just Princess Celestia, in diplomatic affairs for over five decades now"

Celestia giggled good naturedly, "Flatterer"

Argent Accord, as he introduced himself, seemed to be an aging Stellar Mage with a sapphire colored Focal Gem. He was dressed in a rather old fashioned gray Victorian style suit and slacks with a filigreed cravat. His silver hair, while well kept, was oddly spiky (even his beard!), though that made him appear less stuffy in my opinion. Practically everything about this man's features was silvery, including his eyes, which was fitting given his proffered name. That he has been serving the Crown for the majority of his life only did him credit in my humble opinion. He was easily the oldest and most seasoned member in the group of assembled diplomats, so it was vaguely daunting that I being granted authority over him. I would have to depend on his wealth of experience without being too obvious about it if I wanted to save face as the leader of this delegation.

"Pleased to meet you, Argent Accord. I'm also the first Trifect to grace this world, by technicality" I remarked, much to the confusion of all but Celestia (whose expression turned minutely thoughtful at that), "But that's a story saved for another occasion" I eyed the rest, "I am Zenith, but you all knew that. I tend to deliberate from time to time, so don't be insulted if it seems like I am ignoring you. My hobbies include stretching my wings whenever possible, occasionally getting together with friends, experimenting with music and magic, and practicing my swordsmanship. Seeing as I have been appointed as the Prime Plenipotentiary of this delegation, let's get acquainted, shall we?"

"Indeed" A short woman, roughly Gale Strider's age, stepped forward.

Short wasn't a word that I used lightly, but this lady barely broke five feet. Face to face, I would have to crick my neck downwards to speak to her. Despite being vertically challenged, she hosted plenty of redeeming features, the most outstanding of which were her eyes, which were a cool shade of blue that reminded me of a tranquil lake. She was clothed in an unseasonably thin yellow sundress that appeared to be missing a parasol, which made me suspect that she was Valkyrian, given how unaffected by the light chill from outside she was. Her hair was worn long, but plain, and was the color of hazel, which was shockingly stark for this continent.

She addressed me with an easygoing smile.

"My name is Shuttleboat Diplomacy. I, along with my dear brother here," She motioned to a tall, gruff faced man who shared her hair hue (though his eyes were red like mine, if several shades lighter), "have been summoned by their Highnesses to assist you in what appears to be a sensitive affair betwixt Arcania and Gryphondria"

"Sensitive ain't the half of it!" The man, Shuttleboat's brother barked, "This is all some prelude to something bigger, mark my words!"

"Hush, Gunboat" The woman calmed her brother with practice ease, "Though I fear he may have the right of it, from what I have been informed. Princess Celestia, if I may?" The aforementioned Diarch nodded her consent, "How are we to defuse the mounting tensions building oversea in Gryphondria, let alone confirm an ally out of this?"

"The key is the Princess Gilda herself" Celestia answered mysteriously, giving no further explanation than that.

Shuttleboat chewed at her lip in hesitation, "With respect, your Highness. I've met the Gryphondrian Princess. And I can safely declare that there are exceedingly few people I would deem unfit to be called a human being, let alone a member of royalty, and she is unfortunately one of them"

"She accused her of being a stuck up shrimp! My sister! The most polite and considerate woman anybody could ever meet!" Gunboat virtually exploded, "If she wasn't covered by diplomatic immunity while attached to that embassy, I would have cleaned her clock for that!" He shook his fist, protectively hovering around his sibling.

I swore I heard someone fail to fully suppress a laugh in the background. After verifying with my Valkyrian senses that someone was displacing air currents nearby and that we were not alone, I focused intently on the Princess, only to see her raising a finger to her lips with a sly grin. With some reservations, I acquiesced.

Shuttleboat lay a hand on his shoulder consolingly, "Violence would have solved nothing in that instance, brother. Furthermore, enflamed passions suit us and our profession ill" She frowned, lines creasing in her forehead, "Although words did surprisingly little as well. The Princess Gilda is a thoroughly unpleasant woman to put up with for any amount of time. When she's not drowning herself in alcohol, flying off for hours on end without giving her minders the barest of notices, or rendering training dummies to pieces with those ghastly clawed gauntlets of hers, she's either insulting the embassy staff or attempting to pick fights for perceived slights against her. She is ornery, inconsiderate, and waspish. If she is the key to this quandary, then we will have our work cut out for us"

Celestia hummed noncommittally, before gesturing off to the side, "And what say you, Rainbow Dash?"

"Rainbow Dash?" I frowned, and sure enough, the aspiring professional aerialist emerged from behind one of the hall's great pillars, looking mildly abashed at being caught spying.

"How long were you hiding there?" I sighed in light frustration, not all that surprised that Rainbow had followed me to the capital.

"I wasn't hiding!" She adamantly denied, cheeks reddening.

"Sure, you were just hanging out in a hall that has obviously been cleared for a private audience for the fun of it" I deadpanned, earning some snickers from Gunboat before his sister slapped the back of her hand on his shoulder chidingly.

"Looking for you!" She leveled an accusing finger at me, "What kind of jerk just leaves his Hearth's Warming gift on someone's doorstep and just books off without saying hello!?"

"A jerk with business calling him away, which you would have known had you read the note that I left for you" I monotoned, "But I doubt that's what you're really here for, is it?"

Her blush intensified, both at verbal riposte and for being so easily found out, "Ummm… well, I wanted to personally give you my Hearth's Warming gift"

I shrugged, "Sure. Though you might have picked a better time for it. Excuse us for a moment" I directed to the diplomats, all of whom nodded patiently.

Celestia merely looked on, serenely.

I came up to Rainbow, who was bashfully rubbing at one of her arms, "Stop doing that. The Rainbow Dash that I know oozes confidence the way a combustion engine oozes smog. You have an image of awesomeness to uphold, do you not?" I pushed a fist into her shoulder encouragingly.

"Heh, yeah" She agreed, straightening her posture, "Well, my gift was originally going to be a gift voucher for you to get some free upgrades done for your Cloud Home, so it can be more awesome like mine, but after eaves… ermm hearing about this important mission involving Gilda, I have an even better gift" Her soft magenta eyes became firm, "I'm coming with you"

'Crap, of course this would happen' I morosely thought to myself.

I knew better than to try and argue with her when she got like that. The Element of Loyalty was a stubborn one, something that I both respected and dreaded about her. Plus, logically speaking, she might be of aid. She did know Gilda pretty well before their falling out, and would be able to tell me things about her that few others could. The flipside of that was Gilda might be pissed to see Rainbow again too, and refuse to associate at all with us. Regardless of what happened, I believed that Rainbow deserved to have a tête-à-tête with her old friend. I could always send her home once we had convinced Gilda to cooperate.

Who was I trying to kid? She was going to insist on coming with us to Gryphondria… I just knew it! Better to keep her close by and in sight than to have her pursue us in some damn fool attempt at heroics. I disliked getting backed into a corner, especially when it concerned people I cared about.

"Okay" I spoke, near a whisper.

"Don't even try to…" She angled her head to the side in bafflement, "Wait? You're cool with it?"

"Against my better judgment, I am" I conceded, "But there's always a chance Celestia says no"

'Please say no, please say no, please say no…' I repeated like a mantra to the Solar Monarch.

"No chance at all, actually" The aforementioned Dawnbringer butted into our conversation, a smarmy simper plastered all over her face.

Meanwhile I was swearing up a hurricane in my head. Category Three, to be precise.

Rainbow yelped and jumped impressively high for not using her wings, evidently caught off guard by her precipitous presence. Being emotionally attuned to her as I was, I could detect her casually ambling towards us, silent as a cat stalking a clueless mouse.

"Are you certain of this, Princess?" I questioned her wholeheartedly, "It will not be an easy task… nor a safe one"

I had enough on my plate as it was without having to worry about Rainbow's safety.

"I have faith in her abilities, Zenith. Just as I have faith in yours" She replied, eyes gazing into my soul sincerely, her words an allusion to mine at the Heavensgate, "Although your friends may not be so understanding of your prolonged absence, Rainbow Dash. To say nothing of your coworkers"

Rainbow, having recovered from her fright, waved a hand dismissively, "Bah! Magiville's Weather Team has Winter Wrap Up covered without me to supervise them. We've done it so many times, we can practically do it in our sleep!" She puffed up her chest in her usual display of feminine machismo.

"Regardless, I suggest you write to them" The Princess recommended, "I shall inform Twilight the reason for your absenteeism in the following days, so someone can take care of your home and your pet. Is this acceptable?" Once Rainbow expressed her grateful consent, Celestia utilized Gracious Smile NumberTwo, usually reserved for courtiers that she was fond of, "Excellent. Let us continue the introductions" And with that, she resumed her place at the head of the staircase.

Rainbow smirked and waved hello to the small assembly, "Hey everybody, I'm sure you probably know this. But I'm Rainbow Dash! Element of Loyalty and Aerialist Extraordinaire!"

"Charmed" Argent gracefully bowed his head.

"A pleasure" Shuttleboat copied her senior's eloquent motion.

"Bold as brass this one. I like her!" Gunboat commented with a thumbs up.

"I had heard one of the Elements was an aspiring Wonderbolt" The last member of the group (A young man with square glasses on his grassy green eyes and snow white hair cropped short) mentioned, "But I wasn't sure which of the two Valkyrians it was"

"You thought it might have been Fluttershy?" Rainbow's face scrunched up at the thought, either in disbelief or umbrage for not being as recognized for her flying skills as she thought, "Pfft! I love Fluttershy, but she's never shared my passion for the skies as intensely as me. Her passion is for taking care of all the animals out there… not that there's anything wrong with that! Got it!?" She shook her fist at him threateningly.

The man held his hands up placatingly, "Of course, Miss Dash! I would never insist otherwise. I'm Ad Referendum… and to be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I'm doing here in such esteemed company. I was only just commissioned by their Majesties' Government as a junior diplomat for Arcania less than a year ago"

"You came recommended by your preceptors. Yours was a budding talent that they believed should be nurtured. I was inclined to agree with them" Celestia explained, "Argent Accord here was standing in your place not so long ago, wondering the same thing"

"I was standing in almost exactly the same spot, as a matter of fact" The man agreed, stroking at his beard introspectively, "While I personally don't think I compare to the likes of the legendary Dainty Decorum or Golden Concordat. Their teachings helped me become the man I am today. Stick by me, young Ad Referendum, and I'll pass on to you the lessons I learned from them"

"I would be honored to learn under you, sir" He bowed to his elder.

"By me, not under me. Word choice is essential in our line of work" Argent corrected him with a chuckle, which his new kohai mirrored.

"I'm Gunboat!" Shuttleboat's brother verbally barged in, "I'm not much of a conventional diplomat, my time serving in the A.S.M.V won't let me behave any different. You can think of me as the Fire to my sister's Ice!"

"A loutish… but apt comparison" His sister chimed in with a fond, familial smile to her sibling.

He was an Ex-Guardsman? I could see it. The man's thick frame, despite being retired from martial affairs, was still packed with muscle. So packed, in fact, that I had few doubts that he was an Agrarian. That and Wizard-Vision confirmed his unyielding, earthly aligned Aura (Everyone's Aura looked disparate to Wizard-Vision, like an infinite kaleidoscope of colour, but the indicators for one's clan were there). I wondered if my new title as Lord of the Earth meant anything in regards to that. I doubted it after a moment's consideration. My Trifect attributes favored all of the three Arcanian Clans equally, yet I was also meant to be a Champion for everyone.

"Happy to make your collective acquaintance. Now that everyone's been introduced. Shall we discuss what our game plan is regarding the Princess Gilda?" I tapped a foot, growing vaguely tired of these proceedings.

"Don't call her that" Rainbow interjected, "Gilda always hated being reminded of that, even back at Flight Camp" She hung her head low, "She would never tell me why though" She murmured to herself.

"So she dislikes being a Princess too?" I ran a hand through my hair, "As if this wasn't going to be arduous as it was. Did she ever miss anything about home, Rainbow?"

Rainbow crossed her arms and held her chin up with her fingers in deep thought, "She rarely spoke about Gryphondria to me. Whenever she did though, I would always get the sense that she was… bitter. I remember her dad sent her a gift of her favorite preserved fruits once and Gilda just glared at the box like she wanted to toss it out. I think she did do that, actually"

Shuttleboat shook her head reproachfully, "Wasteful and ungrateful"

"Hey, Gilda had some emotional baggage about home okay!?" Rainbow barked, protective of Gilda even after their friendship had faltered. Element of Loyalty, indeed.

"Did Gilda have any filial affection for her father?" Argent Accord inquired, Ad Referendum started looking oddly… conflicted about something based on his obscurely constipated mien. I cataloged that slip-up for prospective review.

"If there's one thing I don't doubt, it's that Gilda loved her father more than anything in the whole world" Rainbow stated with absolute confidence, "She would always talk about him like he was the greatest person to ever exist" Rainbow chortled at some cherished memories, "We got into a lot of races over whose dad was the better flyer"

"So then why throw away a gift from her father?" Ad Referendum blurted as he brought up the obvious discrepancy, still personally troubled by the topic.

Rainbow looked to the side, "I think Gilda… resented her father for not being there for her while she was on exchange with Arcania… or even before that. I also think that her hating being a Princess is why she stayed here so long even after…" The girl cringed, "…the incident in Magiville"

Since Rainbow didn't feel like elucidating, I filled in the diplomats for her, "Gilda showed up in Magiville not long after the Elements of Harmonious Virtues had recognized their wielders. Let's just say that Gilda did not approve of Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, or really any of Rainbow's current friends, and made a big ruckus about it. Considering that she's sitting pretty in Baltimӕr right now acting like a dissolute, cantankerous profligate, you can see how well it worked out for her"

The Element of Loyalty glared daggers at me for my oversimplification of a sensitive event, "She forced me to choose between her and my friends, Zenith" She said through gritted teeth.

"And did you choose wrong?" I gently posed to the girl, shattering her heated composure with my armor piercing question.

"No… but," She sighed aggrievedly, "I hate the way our friendship just ended like that. I need to talk to her at least one last time. I have to know if she feels the same"

"And you shall get your chance, Rainbow Dash" Celestia interposed, "Gilda Gryffindor is similar to you in many ways. She still hasn't forgotten you… perhaps she even feels regret for her foolhardy actions"

Rainbow shifted her weight around nervously, "What makes you so certain of that, Princess Celestia?"

"Call it intuition" She answered enigmatically.

'Bullshit' I telepathically opened a line to her, 'You know something'

'Perhaps I do. Or perhaps I choose to believe in the inherent good in people. I encourage trying it yourself' She advocated in reply. God, even her mental tone was smug.

"In that case I'm definitely coming along" Rainbow declared, "I don't care if she's Royalty or not. Gilda is my friend, and I'm going to remind her of that, my way. You guys can do your diplomacy thing with her afterwards"

"Care to fill us in on how you're to accomplish that, Miss Dash?" Shuttleboat perked an immaculate eyebrow, grazing the line between rationality and impertinence.

Dash grinned with the friendliness of a shark, "That's going to stay a secret for now"

"Have it your way, Rainbow" I clapped my hands purposefully, "That settles that then! We can iron out additional details about the dynamics of our working relationship at a later date. In the meantime I entreat all of you to please ensure that you've packed your essentials: clothes, books and treatises, parchment and pens and get yourselves mentally and physically prepared for this mission, for it will not be a simple undertaking. Trust me on this. Though chin up! We're going to be traveling to Baltimӕr in style"

The others voiced their agreement, and shuffled off to their quarters or wherever it was that they were lodged while in the city. Before Rainbow Dash could disappear though, I stopped her for a second.

"Do me a solid, will you? Go to the Royal Armory and appeal to the armorer on duty there, a Gilded Gauntlet if I recall, that she provides you with a Spritewood bow, and plenty of arrows to go with it"

"Zenith?" Her brow creased.

"Do it for my peace of mind" I batted my eyelashes at her, "Pretty please?"

"Ugh, don't do that. Your flat expression makes it look all weird" She groaned, "Fine, I guess I can agree to that. But you do know that I can't use a bow that well, right?"

It was my turn to frown, "Didn't you get some practice with it back in the Krystal Kingdom?"

"Yeah," She bobbed her shoulders, "but I'm not sure if it's my thing. Didn't feel too awesome standing in place to take a shot when I'm usually always on the move, you know?"

I scoffed, "Rainbow, allow me to let you in on something that isn't a well known fact" She leaned in closer, curious at whatever this factoid was, "Did you know that the Princess herself is an accomplished bow woman? It's true" I insisted after seeing her incredulity, "And she's a damn fine archer too! Could accurately fire off several arrows in a flash while in midair, and I doubt she was much older that yourself at the time she was capable of doing this. It when she and her sister were just known as the Maidens. In fact," A devilish glint manifested in my eyes, "I bet she would be willing to grant you some pointers before we get underway. Don't you agree, Princess?" I pointedly inquired of the woman, whose forbearance knew no bounds.

Not to mention she was Judicious, Attractive, and Smart…

'Oh stop it, you fawner. That was petty of you, but not without merit' She telepathically messaged me, 'I approve!'

'I love you too, Cel' I projected to her with a half lidded gaze. Immensely pleased with myself that I could evoke that pink dusting on her cheeks with but a handful of mentally projected words.

She coughed into her hand, while Rainbow tried to puzzle out just what had the Princess so momentarily flustered, "I suppose I could pass on some of my experience. Though it has been a while since I've formally instructed someone on my style of bowmanship"

"I get to learn something from the Princess herself? Sweet!" Rainbow did a compacted loop-de-loop before landing and thrusting her fist in the air eerily like an anime protagonist, "Just you wait, Princess Celestia! I'm going to be the best student you've ever had!"

The Princess giggled with mild amusement, "I wouldn't let Twilight catch you saying that within earshot of her. Come along, Rainbow Dash. Given how Zenith and my dear sister have made an absolute mess of the castle's training yards earlier, we shall have to resort to an especial alternative" She humorously sniped at me, prompting me to roll my eyes, "Let us get you outfitted before we practice in my personal training chambers. My personal bow, Solarus, has been gathering some dust lately, but it is always prepared to feather some targets," Her heavy stare fell upon Rainbow, who immediately seemed a lot less certain about this, "just as you will be, once we are finished"

'If I was an anime protagonist. I would be sweat dropping right now. I don't envy that girl' I thought, mildly unsettled by the sudden shift in the Princess's demeanor. I had the feeling that Rainbow Dash was about to undergo some kind of hellish training regime from someone with centuries of know-how in obtaining results.

The two women departed, with one practically dragging the other along, and I was left to my own devices again. I decided to wait until eventide came around, passing the hours meditating in the Observabrary and establishing a better grasp on my new innate abilities as a Lord of the Earth. The act of meditating itself became a lot less boring and a lot more meaningful now that doing so allowed me to perceive the true beauty of this world, unseen by the unaided eye. There were eddies and subtle twists in the flow of magical currents with no particular direction or destination in mind that were present in the air, the land, the water… words just didn't do it justice.

As was my wont as an inquisitive thinker and heuristic person, I latched onto these streams and analyzed them and their quiddities, receiving 'data' about their composition, relative saturation, and divining hints regarding how to divert these streams into my purposes. I saw the emanations of mana released by every living thing, each perfectly unique, inducing a 'magical signature' of sorts. I observed that we were all connected, and yet entirely separate and individual beings at the same time. From what my spirit told me, I theorized that there was this profound potential, or transcendental energy that made this ostensible contradiction possible. 'Zooming out', I beheld that the bigger scheme, so to speak, was like a oil painting that was in the making. Or a picture in motion.

I could spend hours like this, watching this constantly shifting masterpiece, and so spend hours I did.

Before I knew it, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, the illumination provided by the sunlight gradually being replaced by the decorative festive lights strewn all over the city. As expected, the palace staff came knocking with a message that my presence was requested down in the entrance hall. Taking a moment to re-center myself from my nigh spiritual journey, I cut off the combination of Earth-Sight and Wizard-Vision, divested myself of my armaments and released a sheathed Polarity to fall into a metaphysical, readily accessible inventory that manifested itself as an invisible pool of blackened glass that was only reachable to me as the Lord of the Earth (another handy perk I would be exploiting ruthlessly in the future), gargled some blueberry mouthwash for good luck, and exited the tower.

Waiting for me at the base of one of the columns were the two musicians that had navigated their way into my maze of a heart. Lyra, in an unusual departure from the norm, was wearing a green, form fitting sequin dress that glittered like a thousand flashing cameras with the slightest motion and accentuated her curves. Octavia's dress (which was also form fitting), on the other hand, was a strapless, chest-hugging, fur covered piece of artisanship whose bodice sported her purple treble clef Mana Mark loudly and proudly for all to see. Both stood tall, owing to the heeled shoes they had on. Apparently, they went out of their way to impress me tonight. Not that they needed to go to such lengths for that. They could be wearing polka dotted bath curtains with fuzzy bunny slippers and I would still think that they looked stunning. I guess I was just an easy man to appease when it came to that sort of thing.

Not that it would stop me from having a bit of fun at their expense.

"I'm sure the mink that gave its life for that ensemble would be thrilled by you wearing it, Octavia. And is that a proper dress you have on, Lyra? Never thought I'd see the day" I poked at her, much to her consternation.

"Ergh… well… you know…" The minty haired woman verbally fumbled into speechlessness. God, the way she tried to hide her embarrassment was adorable.

"She could hardly go for a night out in this town in her usual hoodie and jeans, now could she? The stuffy noblesse here would devour her alive! So I lent her some of my more formal attire that survived the ransacking of my apartment" Octavia promptly came to her defense, emanating a fierce protectiveness which both charmed and gladdened me.

'Not sure why Octavia would keep a green sequin dress of all articles in her wardrobe, but I can scarcely complain' I mentally dismissed the oddity.

"Relax, I think she looks wonderful. Both of you do" I suavely soothed their ruffled feathers, "Shall we?" I offered them my arms, which they were eager to loop theirs through, before we set off into the city in search of revelry.

Since it was Hearth's Warming, Concordia came alive at night in a way it normally didn't. Families, many of whom were bundled in fur trimmed outfits comparable to Octavia's, were out for evening strolls; all of whom were enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. Bright eyed children laughed as they played with toys that they had unwrapped that morning, their parents watching their joy with mirrored delight. People were gathered in squares for communal dances as music was piped in via speakers or live bands, with scrumptious food sponsored by local restaurants and bakeries catered in on carts to be loaded onto long tables by eager volunteers. Witnessing this as we took a horse drawn trolley to our mysterious destination (for neither Octavia or Lyra would budge on where we were going), brought an intense surge of nostalgic melancholy in me. These were all activities that I would never get to participate in with my family ever again.

There would be no more feasting on honey glazed holiday ham and key lime pie with the thick kind of cool whip on top as my parents put on a Twilight Zone marathon that would air every Christmas for my maternal grandpa to kick back in his favorite recliner and watch.

I knew that I got the opportunity to say my goodbyes to them, but damn if it didn't still sting at me.

Sensing my slight internal distress due to our bond, Octavia simply put her hand on mine and gave it a comforting squeeze, sending me all of her loving reassurance. Lyra, despite being disadvantaged here, read the mood easily and did likewise for me. I inhaled steadily and squeezed back, saying nothing on the subject.

For nothing needed to be said.

We eventually arrived at our endpoint, which turned out to be a rather unassuming building designed in the typical, white marbled Concordian fashion. What wasn't typical, were the string of myriad musical notes originating from within, with other notes made in rebuttal, making it sound like a competitive talent show was going on. The name on the joint was The Silly Filly, the enchanted sign above depicting a rather humorous, smashed looking, animated foal with spirals for eyes that was spinning in circles.

'Where in the heck did they bring me?' I wondered, unsure what to make of this development.

Noticing my bemusement, Octavia rushed to explain, "We decided to take turns bringing you to places we thought you'd enjoy visiting for our outing tonight" Her face flushed when I looked at her inquisitively, "I discovered this… establishment with Vinyl back when the two of us were newly arrived at the academy. It challenged musicians of all kinds to play their favored instruments while drunk, which as you can imagine was an idea Vinyl absolutely got behind. The winner of a competition had their picture taken and their name engraved on a plaque for posterity. Vinyl managed to win quite a few, in point of fact. Inebriation had no negative effect on her mixing skills" She smiled wistfully at the memory. Perhaps the woman wasn't wholly opposed to electronically derived music.

Lyra had some reservations about this, "You realize him competing here would basically be cheating, right? It took Berry Punch to brew something up that managed to breach his incredible fortitude, and I was pretty sure that resultant concoction could be used to strip the paint off of walls…" Lyra deadpanned at my side, gesticulating at me with a thumb.

"A one time occurrence, I assure you" I monotoned, not appreciating the poignant reminder of getting blackout drunk, even if Lyra and I became chummier because of it.

Octavia cleared her throat, "Winning is not the overt point of this venture. And I am nebulously aware of his… impressive resistance to alcoholic beverages, just as I am also aware of his keen musical talents. I merely believed the three of us, being so like mindedly inclined, could have a spot of fun here. It helps that they keep a very well stocked bar" She input as an additional incentive.

'Sold' I shrugged unaffectedly, "I'm game"

Lyra's resistance to the idea crumbled at that, and she nodded with a suppressed sigh.

The cellist clapped her hands together once in glee, "Excellent!" She strode forth, an unexpected bounce in her every step.

"She sure seems excited for this" Lyra opined in a low tone, "Didn't think The Silly Filly would be her style, to be honest"

"As much as her personality and manner of speech makes her seem like just another posh Concordian, you'll find that Octavia has a wealth of hidden depths to her, just like you do" I tweaked a brow at what she implied in her second sentence, "You know this place too, Lyra?"

"That's fair. And I attended classes at that academy too, Zenith" She disclosed to me, "From what I gathered, the competitions held at this place were almost a rite of passage for the majority of the student body. Oddly, the greater the embarrassment you made of yourself here, the greater your chances of being accepted by the student body. Something about solidarity in mediocrity, I think" She scratched her chin reflectively.

"I see" I murmured insouciantly, "Could be amusing to entertain this mindset. Let's get sloshed and butcher some music then!"

She beamed at me as she took my wrist and practically yanked me inside, flashing me her immaculate, pearly whites, "That's the spirit!"

The interior of The Silly Filly was an unusual setup. There were a series of circular platforms (that rotated) arranged in a line of six. The audience for these spectacles had a clear view of the bar where aspiring competitors would buy drinks (or alternatively they could have theirs bought for them by the audience if they had its favor) and get nice and soused before giving it their best shot on stage. Instruments of all makes were stored in the back, evidenced by a didgeridoo of all things being carted out to one expressly drunk individual. They had to be, since there was a rule forbidding contestants from using their own instruments, likely to equalize everyone's chances given how many rich kids there were that lived in this town that could enchant their instruments unfairly.

Interestingly, the rotating platforms themselves were enchanted to 'mute' the competitor if they were so drunk that they began playing out of turn… or out of tune. The relative success of each competitor was rated by the level of applause received by the less intoxicated audience, which was measured by an enchanted billboard displaying each contestant's 'score' as well as the title of the piece or pieces that they demonstrated, assuming that it was recognized as an established song. Each competition was normally over with punctually, with either a clear winner, or no winners at all if the competitors performed poorly enough. Speciously, there was a minimum standard for being recognized as a winner here.

After making it clear to one of the competition organizers that we were here to compete, paying a rather hefty entrance fee (fifty bits a person!) and spinning a Wheel of Fortune styled revolving machine, we were informed that we were slotted for the 'Superfluously Silly' category, which entailed imbibing enough alcohol to get nigh stinking drunk for most adult males. Thankfully, the joint was stocked with complimentary chasers that alchemically sobered a person up within moments of being administered. I made it a task of mine to analyze the chemical and thaumic makeup of these chasers for later. Octavia, Lyra, and I sat down at the barstools for the competitors that were in waiting, the sundry shades of mood lighting shifting overhead. I discerned with some faint amusement that the patrons, particularly the ladies, were more than eager to buy me my drinks, whereas Octavia only got a couple takers. Lyra's face sported a cute pout, rambling to herself about practically being invisible again as she fished out some bits from her coin purse.

'Her dress doesn't have pockets. So where did she get that from!?' I ruminated with a bit of panic. I didn't sense her use magic. Did she have some kind of hammerspace or something? I forced myself to shake it off.

We then settled in and got comfy as the drinks were poured.

"To us!" I toasted my girlfriends, raising my glass (filled with some greenish fruity smelling concoction, likely an apple based cider) and clinking it against theirs with a satisfying 'ting!'. Octavia had settled for a choice of fortified wine, whereas Lyra got a plain ole' beer. I guzzled my beverage in one draft before moving on to the next, drawing vague disapproval from one woman and a jolly giggle from the other as I unrepentantly continued to pound them back.

Did I feel a bit guilty for utilizing my superior Trifect physiology to obtain an easy win? Maybe…

But mostly I just wanted to flex on these suckers.

Many… many drinks later, we were called up to the individual stages, with myself on the fourth, Lyra on the second, and Octavia on the third. The first gal to compete was nothing exceptional, her flute spouting hardly coherent notes that were met with a smattering of claps, and even then she struggled to keep standing up straight on the spinning platform. Considering how Lyra herself was having some difficulty walking in a straight line, I wasn't surprised to see that her magic spluttered and sparked as she levitated her chosen instrument that was delivered into her hands. Regardless, she managed to play admirably well, with only a few notable mistakes here and there as she plucked out a catchy tune. Obtaining moderate applause, she was given a chaser that she washed down with some water, wincing at the bitterness of the sobering tincture as her system was purged of intoxicants, her cheeks losing that scarlet flush. Seeing the swift results of the chaser in action only made augmented my desire to dissect its secrets.

Now that it was Octavia's turn, I espied her repressing a moderately buzzed smirk as she was handed a cello… which she then proceeded to play a perfect rendition of the first fifteen minutes of Johann Sebastian Bach's iconic Cello Suite on, completely immune to the dizzying effect of the platform's rotation. Being residents of a cultured city like Concordia and thus regularly exposed to the classical arts, many in the audience had to pick their metaphorical jaws off the floor as they witnessed an unknown masterpiece of baroque music being performed for the first occasion in this world. Needless to declare, Octavia was in the lead so far in both musical performance and demonstration of hardiness. I was deeply impressed, both by her talent and vigor… and the fact that she had effortlessly transcribed the Cello Suite entirely from memory.

Much as I had mixed feelings about their significance. Mana Marks really befitted the people they manifested on.

And to be fair to myself, she also had my blood giving her one hell of an alcoholic resistance boost.

Then my platform lit up, signifying that it was now my turn. The guys and gals in charge of distributing instruments groaned when I politely requested a piano from them, but they graciously complied, wheeling it out and setting it on the stage for me with a combination of agrarian muscles and magic. Taking a seat on the dimpled leather chair, I cracked my knuckles, and after checking and ensuring that the piano had no loose keys or other defects, I began to play 'The Finger Breaker' at a breakneck pace. The notes blurred together as I bobbed my head to the saloon like rhythm of the song, tapping my free foot on the floor as my fingers rocketed across the keyboard. I personally enjoyed how this song gradually diverged from having a single voice to two voices as each hand started to do their own thing. The upbeat tune even had some of the sozzled people clapping along merrily.

Not content with the relatively curtailed piece of music, I instantly transitioned into 'Circus Galop' (a song that was anatomically impossible for a normal human to perform by themselves, having been intended for piano machines), personally challenging myself to beat my previous record with the song as my hands frenetically flew back and forth with as few assists of my own magic as possible for depressing the distant ivory keys. I wasn't paying any attention to the audience, nor even my girlfriends, fully immersing myself into the music. Ultimately I neared the end of my turn with a frenzied flourish of keynotes. Satisfied by shaving a good ten seconds off my prior record, I finished the song with finesse. An idea popped into my brain as I spontaneously decided to test out an idea that I saw in a movie once.

The building was dead silent as I got up from my seat, "Anybody have a cigarette they'd kindly lend me?" I called out to the crowd. A nonplussed looking waiter came up to me and offered me one of his when nobody responded, all of them too stunned by what I had just done.

I took the miniature death stick and spun it between my digits before circling around the open paneled piano, holding it dramatically high in the air for the crowd to see before touching it to the exposed strings of the Grand Concert. It took a few seconds, but the immense heat being emitted by the stressed piano strings ignited the cig like a candle. Showing the glowing tip to the crowd earned me a standing ovation, the audience going wild with cheers. I handed the now lit cigarette back to the stunned waiter as I drank in the flabbergasted faces of my girlfriends. I shrugged at them nonchalantly as if to say 'This was what you wanted, was it not?'. Evidently, my overwhelming display of dexterity caused the last two contestants to forfeit the match with a grumble (Which I made up for by buying them their next round of drinks). After pocketing a chaser for later study and ingredient extrapolation ('Alchemy skills for the win!'), posing for a photo frame with my girlfriends, and getting my plaque fashioned and hung on the Wall of Fame, I egressed The Silly Filly with my two loves, my ego sufficiently inflated for the evening.

"Thus I exit this place once again in defeat" Octavia sighed melodramatically, half soberly and half jocosely, "Although, against you my dear, I graciously concede"

"You would have won for sure if not for me, Octavia" I assured her with a shoulder nudge, "Your ability to adapt one of Bach's masterpieces so flawlessly into your style does you great credit as the First Chair. I look forward to the day you can incorporate the rest of my world's classical masterpieces into the orchestra for all cultured people to adore"

She nodded phlegmatically at the praise, staying quietly contemplative at my suggestion.

"That was incredible!" Lyra exclaimed, her eyes alight with childlike wonder, "How'd you get that good? Your fingers were a like flesh colored haze the whole way!"

"I practiced "The Finger Breaker" in my music chambers whenever I had time, kept my digits nice and limber" I elucidated, tickled by their mortified expressions, "That was the name of the first song, ladies. It's not even that demanding to be considered a finger breaker… more of a nail chipper" That was a less catchy title though, "What's next on the agenda?"

"We're going to a place in the lower levels called the Bard's Breath. On special occasions like tonight they have this neat setup that I'm fond of. Less about drinking and playing, and more about singing~" Lyra clarified with a musical lilt in her hypnotic voice.

"Ah yes," Octavia chimed in, "in some locations that wish to forgo live accompaniment for whatever reason, they have enchanted equipment that will provide music. For self service singing or ambience to regular dining, I believe…" She seemed slightly averse to the concept given her occupation as a professional musician, although she did not express outright disapproval.

"They have an analog of Karaoke Fun Night in Concordia?" I mused aloud, before shaking my noggin, "Of course they do. Why not? Lead on, Lyra"

Bard's Breath was your typical, seedy (as seedy as it gets in this city, anyhow, therefore making it classier than the vast bulk of stuff from the homeworld) tavern with a wooden stage. The interior wasn't worth mentioning, neither was the clientele, or the drink selection. What was worth mentioning however, was the fact that they used enchanted crystals (that were mounted on the ceiling like floodlights) that replicated the effects of my Sound Sphere spell, enabling the user to have their own Will based, musical complement as they sang to their heart's content. Now this would prove interesting, since both Lyra and Octavia had access to music from my world, either from memory by liberally browsing my library, as Octavia did, or by vicariously experiencing it through my memories, in Lyra's case.

With a hearty helping of bits greasing hands (thankfully not as expensive as The Silly Filly was, at a sensible ten bits a person), we had reserved the stage with complimentary ales on the side for the following hour. It was also far less crowded here than it was at our previous destination, which I personally valued but did not outwardly show for the sake of my socially minded companions. Considering how coming here was Lyra's idea, Octavia and I both insisted that she go up first, to which she readily consented. She hopped onstage with flair, sparkling dress dazzling everyone who looked at her, capturing the attention (she did not vocally indicate this, but I could tell that maintaining it still meant the world to her. No one would ever forget her again) of all who were present. She closed her eyes and concentrated, her citrine Focal Gem coming alight. The crystals started to resonate with a matching glow as a positively psychedelic tune flooded the atmosphere of The Bard's Breath.

(Theme Music: Beautiful Stranger by Madonna)

My jaw perceptibly lowered an inch as one of my favorite songs began to play. That Lyra was able to so effortlessly reproduce it while emulating Madonna's perfervid tone and relating the lyrics to her own experience as her gorgeous eyes bore into mine was spectacular. I almost didn't notice myself swaying to the carefree beat, Octavia likewise copying me as we commenced grooving. Sensing our enthusiasm, Lyra grew further impassioned, practically bouncing on the stage with an electrifying ardor that exceeded the original artist herself. I was especially spellbound by the way she crooned the lyrics: "To know you, is to love you" directly to me. Coming down from the musical high, Lyra alighted from the stage and urged Octavia to give it a go, which the cellist tried and failed to politely decline once I got in on the action as well.

Sighing with manufactured exasperation, Octavia took to the stage, thinking long and hard about what she wanted to sing for us. Her face became focused as she had finalized her decision, her dulcet tones imitating Margaret Whiting from my favorite rendition of 'Baby, It's Cold Outside', with the crystals somehow flawlessly reproducing Johnny Mercer's voice for the duet. It was fitting for the occasion, though I regretted not being able to be her partner for this. I observed, not for the first occasion, that Octavia had a fondness for the more olden items from my library. Again, it highlighted that the contrast between Lyra's and Octavia's tastes were as wide as they were varied. And yet, I could fully appreciate both.

It soon came to be my crack at yet another stage. After praising Octavia for serenading us with her voice and praying that I didn't cause a synchronization event, I brought out my own Sound Sphere (I can be prideful about my magic, sometimes) as artificial piano notes cascaded through the air.

(Theme Music: Love Me Now by John Legend)

The lyrics of this one song, about a man's uncertainties about the future juxtaposed to the surety of love in his heart for his significant other, really spoke to me, which was the majority of the reason why I picked this one. I could see that my words were having an effect on the two women, whose eyes' were misty as I sang solely to them from the heart. As the song reached its conclusion and I got offstage (ignoring the smattering of polite applause from the bar patrons) they both rushed to meet me in a hug, which I returned with a bittersweet dimpling of my countenance.

I dismissed my Sound Sphere, "So… what did you think of my performance?"

"That was profound, Zenith" Octavia complimented me with an effusion of her heady emotions over our bond, almost physically staggering me with their potency. I had to be careful, if I drank too much of those, I might get drunk off her love, as corny as that sounded.

"It was a resounding performance that came from within, Zenith. How could either of us be anything but mesmerized by it?" Lyra pointed out.

"Thank you both" I replied with a small, but wholehearted smile, "Now, I don't know about you two, but all this exercising of my metaphorical music muscles has me a bit peckish. Want to grab a bite before we retire for the evening?"

At the mention of provender, an impressively loud and decidedly unladylike stomach rumble erupted from the direction of my cellist. Lyra snickered at the woman's unintentional lapse in propriety while my smile morphed into a sly smirk.

"That… sounds like a terrific idea" Octavia concurred, her cheeks tingeing crimson with faint embarrassment. Her reaction was subdued since the emotion-thoughts I was relaying to her were nothing except warm, unadulterated acceptance of all that she was.

"But where would we even discover a place to dine at this hour?" Lyra questioned, reality overtaking the levity of the situation, "I remember that the waitlists for the majority of the city's restaurants during Hearth's Warming week were ridiculous, let alone the possibility of walk-ins obtaining one on Hearth's Warming evening"

"Lyra's logic is irrefutable" Octavia was of the same mindset, "Unless you have a reservation booked tucked away somewhere in those robes, we will have to content ourselves with whatever the kitchen staff deign to make for us"

"The majority of the Castle's kitchen staff have been dismissed so they can be with their families, so that's unfortunately not an option" I refuted with a scowl, "Although…" I scratched at the back of my head, "…there was this one establishment that Blue recommended to me. Supposedly they always had a table reserved for him that he could lend to those that he authorized. I'm pretty sure he added me to the shortlist for that"

"What's the title of this one establishment?" Lyra echoed my verbal emphasis as she tilted her head curiously.

"The Empyrean Table" I casually inspected my nails as I namedropped one of the most prestigious eateries in all of the city, if not the nation.

Both of them gaped at me, with good reason. The Empyrean Table was the crème de la crème when it came to fancy eateries. The mysterious founder of the restaurant, who went by the pseudonym Ambrosial Fare, had a penchant for collecting recipes as well as ingredients from all over the culinary world, incorporating Arcanian twists into exotic cuisines to appeal to their customer's picky palates (Though unaltered versions would also be served at the customer's behest). They employed the best chefs from all over the world: Arcania, Gryphondria, Zstarasia, heck I had learned from Blueblood that they even had someone on staff that hailed from the Minosian Isles! Their standing was such that Blueblood's own reputation would have taken a hit had he not been a patron of the restaurant. Even disregarding the fact that it was Hearth's Warming, reservations to dine at The Empyrean Table could extend upwards to a year. That kind of influence wasn't something that even Nigel Fancypants could resolve by throwing egregious amounts of money at it, so having Blueblood's go-ahead to use his personal table would be a real boon here.

"Zenith… that's…" Octavia struggled to compose a coherent sentence, so flabbergasted was she.

"Only the best for the special women in my life" I airily remarked with a rakish grin.

Lyra just did this adorable, little, happy-go-lucky hop in the air, "Best boyfriend ever!" She cheered, practically giving off her own sunshine.

"Indeed" My cellist agreed, smiling gently at her fellow musician's antics.

I dipped my head and tried not to let the passionate emotion behind their sentiments tempt me into overconfidence. Still, it was… nice to know that I was so highly valued by them.

Half an hour later, we were seated at a private table overlooking one of the many waterfalls cascading from carefully crafted manmade rivers coursing through the city's districts. As anticipated, my name was cleared to partake of Prince Blueblood's special reserved table along with my guests. The maître d' who accommodated us was a jovial fellow with an immaculately groomed elegant mustache that I had the gratification of admiring as someone who was deadest on being clean-shaven. The Empyrean Table had an atmosphere awash in unique, sumptuous scents that wafted through the air and caused our mouths to water. Interestingly, no menus were offered to us, with the maître d' describing that each patron of the restaurant was specially screened through some unexplained method as to determine which course would be best served to them. Octavia and Lyra were delighted by this tidbit, enthused by the pomp and mystery of it, while I personally thought it a bit strange. Albeit with how hungry I was, they could serve me a boiled shoe and I would demolish it in two minutes flat, so I had no room to complain.

This restaurant pulled out all the stops for its guests. Classical music was composed by a live group of musicians (some of whom Octavia knew from work), the interior décor was reminiscent of a Mediterranean setting; with marble pillars, hanging vines, and smoking incense. To top it off, the tableware was made of bejeweled platinum, and the goblets of a sparkling crystal. The view wasn't too shabby either, with the burgeoning moonlight bathing the fertile valleys below us in a milky glow. As beautiful as this all was though, I had eyes only for the two women sitting across from me, one of whom was presently digging into her Sea Queen fillet with gusto and moaning in euphoria all the while, while the other was taking diminutive nibbles of her Apple-and-Nailtail-Shark Risotto, as if to make it last as long as humanly possible. I likewise ate at a curtailed pace, keeping my sights fixed on them. There was no need to rush, as I already prepaid for the associated expenses (Much to the agony of my funds).

Needless the say, the view was captivating.

"This place is awesome!" Lyra chirped, talking between munches of food, "Mmm… I don't know how that big gal did it, but she managed to make this fish taste better than steak! And I'm not even a huge fan of fish!"

The 'big gal' she was referring to had boomingly introduced herself in the third person as 'Iron Skillet', who was our personal chef for the evening. She was also a towering seven foot tall absolute Amazon of a woman who looked better suited to a battlefield with a bloodied axe in hand than a kitchen with a mere cooking knife. And that wasn't an analogy made without reason. Despite the pristine white chef's uniform covering her body, I observed a number of myriad scars (from beasts to bladed weaponry) that lined and marred her muscled flesh. This woman had experienced adversity, that was for sure. Curiosity bid that I ask inquire about her background, but decorum demanded that I keep to my own business. I didn't doubt that 'Iron Skillet' could crack skulls as easily as one cracked eggs if somebody deeply offended her. Still I had to know if she knew anybody named 'Iron Will'. When asked, she gave a low belly laugh and explained that they were undeniably of the Iron Tribe. Considering that a Minosian Tribe was spoken of in the same breath that an Arcanian Clan might be, I surmised that he had to be a distant cousin of sorts.

"This is the third occasion this day that you've utterly spoiled me, Zenith" Octavia set her utensil aside and dabbed primly at her lips with a napkin, "First your wonderfully thoughtful gift, which I shall cherish forever, bedazzling us with your mastery of the piano, and now this delectable dinner. This is without uncertainty one of the most memorable Hearth Warming's I have ever had the pleasure of committing to memory. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you"

"It was my pleasure. But you shouldn't thank me for the last thing" I refuted her between buttery bites of my lobster mashed potatoes (which paired perfectly with my spit roasted lamb that was seasoned with these exotic herbs that really made the succulent meat pop in a rock concert of flavors), "You should thank Blueblood. He is the reason we're seated here right now, after all" I then paused in my eating with a fake frown adorning my features, "However… my wallet took a bit of a hit" I retrieved and held out the significantly lightened leather object to her, "Kiss it to make it feel better?" I cheekily dared her.

Narrowing her eyes at me for the barefaced challenge, she snatched the proffered wallet out of my fingers before laying the wettest, sloppiest kiss I had ever seen on one of the flaps, bright purple disks boring into me the whole way.

'Damn… that's actually kinda arousing' I mentally gawked at the oddly erotic display.

My outward reaction must have broken my stoic persona, since my girlfriends broke into a bout of fluttering giggles that evolved into full blown mellifluous laughter. Their twin gazes then fell upon me independently, and yet as if in coordination too, like they were in perfect sync with each other. Their windows to the soul were positively brimming with warm affection for me. Something… twinged harrowingly in my chest then… something that I believed had been driven out of me in what felt like a veritable lifetime ago. I seemed to myself very small just then… like their intensely burning love for me was meant for someone else far worthier than I could have ever been. I felt like an imposter in my own skin, truth be told. Who was I, some self centered, emotionally and socially stunted moron that was prone to fits of introspective brooding, to have garnered those caring glances, the soft smiles, the tender touches? I was a singularly unworthy personage, and yet they saw something in me that endeared me to them none the less. I was rendered speechless by such a feat.

I didn't deserve them.

Spotting the onset of my internal dilemma, Lyra's face twisted immediately from mirth into worry, "Zenith? What's wrong?" She laid a loving hand on my chest, and I all but flinched at the contact.

"Nothing" I replied automatically to her, mechanically setting my fork on the intricately detailed table linens, "It's… nothing"

Those lovely orbs of hers narrowed, "Zenith… you forget, I know you well enough to tell when something is bothering you within, no matter how well you hide it without" She cited chidingly, looking at me with love, tinged with disappointment at my robotic denial. It was going to be my firm task to ensure that look never became one of disappointment tinged with love.

"I can confirm that he is immensely troubled right now" Octavia concurred with concern lacing her voice, "Talk to us, Zenith. You know we are the last people who will ever misjudge you for anything"

'Damn… they'll even double team me when it's for my own benefit' I noted to myself, hugely conflicted about this.

'To hell with it' If I didn't get this off my chest, it might haunt me forever.

"I don't feel worthy of you two" I leveled with them, voice empty of any particular emotion.

I forestalled any protests on their part, "Please, before you interrupt, let me clarify why I feel this way. You see… before I was unceremoniously stolen from my humdrum world and conveyed to this magical one… before I received all these amazing abilities… before I had the absolute weight of all of this responsibility placed on me… before I became the man you know as Zenith" My hollow stare penetrated into theirs, "I was no one. I wasn't a warrior, I wasn't an arcanist, and certainly not some prophesied savior. In my mind there was no scenario where I would find myself where I am currently, in a relationship with two extraordinary, incredible women, both of whom have faced astounding hardships and come out better for it. The person that I was before this… I cannot see them displaying that same outright strength of character. I only envision that person shattering like so much glass. I deem in my heart that the two of you are better than I am… that I am lesser and thus debasing you for it, and I don't know how to reconcile this"

Octavia was silent for a minute before she sweetly caressed my cheek with her thumb, "There is nothing for you to reconcile, Zenith. You are not that person you believed you once were anymore… you are you. You are the bravest, most caring man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting by what feels like destiny that fateful night at the Lofty Lounge. You saved my life from a terrible woman who was blinded by covetousness. By the Princesses, you bled yourself for my sake!" The cellist then pointed to Lyra, "You saved her soul from a terrible curse, accomplishing an incredibly audacious feat no one would ever think to do and making it work… But it is not the scope of your incredible actions that attract us to you. Your deeds are only eclipsed by the sheer breadth of goodness that is inherent within you. That, is what draws us to you. Who you are… not what you are. Now discard any notions of inferiority or unworthiness, for nothing could be more blatantly false. Both of us love you" She pulled my head down into a fearsome kiss, her hungry lips still tasting faintly of apples, wine and spirits, before withdrawing with some reluctance evident in her movements, "Get used to it" She all but growled at me as she ceased contact, a blazing fire in her irises.

Lyra was smirking knowingly as I subsequently looked to her, "What she said" The woman likewise reeled me into a fierce kiss, lingering a tad longer than Octavia did, with her only breaking away once my cellist emphatically cleared her throat in mild, envious annoyance.

I was simply stunned by their declaration.

I was outlogicked, outwitted, outvoted, and entirely outgunned by these two women. Guess I had no choice but to comply.

I slowly smiled at them, genuinely and truly, "As my ladies command"

"Good" Lyra nodded resolutely, "Now that that's settled. Are you going to finish that?" She gestured to my half eaten lamb, licking her lips as she did so.

"Lyra!" Octavia chided the gal for her atrocious table manners.

"Octy!" Lyra aped the cellist's name call, not at all chastised.

The aforementioned woman grit her teeth, "I told you not to call me that!"

I let out a deep, reverberating laugh at their byplay, my smile widening and a spark kindling itself in my heart.

It was at that moment that I was reminded of the fact that I wholeheartedly needed them in order to combat the void that abided in my center. Perhaps more than they needed me, in sooth.

But I could make peace with that.

⁂

I awoke to the sound of an early morning breeze. Despite the crisp chill in the winter wind, my Valkyrian derived physiology and the twin bundles of warmth that were Lyra and Octavia nestled in my arms (apparently my not-so-bony shoulders made for superb headrests) prevented me from experiencing any kind of discomfort. I leisurely craned my neck from side to side to simply watch the two of them, taking in every detail and committing it steadfastly to memory. Their breaths and heartbeats were steady as they slept, with their hair moderately disheveled from last night's… activities. The sultry feeling of their sweat dampened flesh pressing on mine sent electrifying tingles running up and down my spine. I was extremely thankful that my hardy Trifect stamina came with several perks that assisted me in carrying out my obligations, as evidenced by the faint, pleased smiles upon their lips as they dreamt sweet dreams. Seeing their fulfillment engendered a sense of grand accomplishment in me, as I solemnly believed that it was a man's sacred duty to satisfy his woman. That I had more than one in my life merely meant that I had to work a bit harder for it, was all.

Disentangling myself from the unruly pile of sheets on the makeshift mattress on the floor (we had to clear some stacks of books to make space) without disturbing and waking my two loves was easily achieved with some meticulous maneuvering and a stealth teleport to the balcony. I had clothed my lower half in undergarments mid-transit to preserve my modesty (although given how no one could accurately see me from up here thanks to the numerous existing privacy wards set up in the Observabrary, the point was rendered moot), before resting my forearms on the hand railing and settling into an introspective pose. I was viewing nothing in particular, just immersed in my own thoughts and presentiments of the upcoming events about to occur. Somewhere in the depths of my spirit, I realized that this would be the last occasion that I would be with those precious to me for some duration.

I had no doubts that the debacle that was developing in Gryphondria would embroil my nation as well. It was presently in the process of happening. The recovered documents detailing the illegal smuggling of firearms from the city of Westcliff in Gryphondria to subversive elements in Arcania, presumably without the King's knowledge, highly reinforced it. The fact that Gilda was considered undeserving of rulership by her own people, which I would bet that the princess herself didn't want, doubly complicated the situation. And let's not forget that the Dissonance itself, a formless horror of pure evil, was fomenting conflict from behind the scenes, all of which meant dark days ahead. There was simply too much evidence supporting it. I may have been quickly developing into a powerful figure in my own right, but there was a difference in flinging about raw power and demonstrating the ability to unify people to contest the likes of an eldritch pseudo-entity that most have forgotten about, if they ever believed it existed in the first place.

It was not something that I could conventionally slay with my sword. It was no Gordian knot to be solved with a mundane application of force. It was not something that I could reason with or dissuade from harming those that I loved with the might of words or the vaunted power of friendship. Hell, it already had a hand in almost taking Octavia from me! It would not cease its nefarious plots until this world was destroyed… perhaps not even then. Prophecy or not… what could I, a single person, regardless of how strong I was becoming… what could I do to combat it?

It was a conundrum that I had no simple solution for.

As I watched over the city, the land, and its inhabitants that I had well nigh sworn to safeguard, I prayed that the answer would reveal itself sooner rather than later.

Slender arms encircled my midsection as a velvety body pressed itself against me, "Hmm… good morning, Zenith" A voice huskily whispered into my ear, her hot breath tickling my earlobe.

"Good morning to you as well, Octavia" I replied pleasantly, turning around to regard the cellist. The deliberately thin shift she was wearing did little to disguise the alluring contours of her nubile body (Which Lyra and I had thoroughly explored in depth. She had even helped me discover areas on my cellist that I had no clue were sensitive!), but I was too taken in by my darkened thoughts to be unduly distracted by the temptations of the flesh.

"I sense that you remain troubled" The woman placed her hands on my shoulders, "Tell me about it?" She earnestly pleaded with me.

I obliged, "As you may have noticed before, I am prone to bouts of brooding at times" I understated, "I tend to worry about the future, and the ominous portends on the horizon. There is a great change coming… and I must change with it, or I will falter and an untold number of others will suffer for it. I can feel it in my bones"

"You're prone to bouts of poetry as well" She smokily opined, eyes half lidded with both sympathy and wry wit.

"It's nothing our snark knight cannot handle, that's for sure" Lyra interjected yawningly as she joined us, stretching her arms above her head before scratching unabashedly at her naked posterior. Unlike Octavia, she did not feel the need to cover up her nudity. The lack of shame on her part was understandable, considering how close we had all become without tying the knot, which was something I planned on remedying one day.

Interestingly enough, Octavia didn't seem to mind our partner's casual disregard for personal decency. Albeit, with what the three of us were engaged in previously… it would have been a flagrant double standard on her part, and she knew it.

"As always, I'm touched by the faith you've placed in me and my talents as a cunning linguist" I then playfully bowed to her with a vaguely lecherous grin on my face, my mood buoyed up by her boundless cheerfulness, "Besides… if I could handle the two of you working in tandem to rock my world just fine, I'm sure I could handle just about anything" I fake boasted confidently.

"That's more like it!" She chirped, tapping a fist on my chest, "Although… you might want to tone the enthusiasm down just a teensy bit…" The minty haired woman pinched her thumb and index fingers together in emphasis, "… cause my hips are going to be aching for the next couple of days"

"As… improper as that is of her to say. I am afraid I have to agree with her point" My cellist candidly concurred, her mildly embarrassed voice coming in muffled through her hands.

I blinked, before shrugging sluggishly, "Oh… my profuse apologies. I'll just let you two do all the work next time then"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! What an outrageous suggestion!" Octavia execrated, the woman stamping a bare foot decisively.

"NO! It's a good ache, I swear it!" Lyra simultaneously exclaimed as she waved her arms dramatically in front of herself.

We stared at each other for a moment before we shared a laugh at the ribald interplay between ourselves. God, was I going to miss this once I had to leave.

Octavia's smile sagged a bit, as if sensing my exact line of thinking, "You have to go soon, don't you?"

"Not just yet" I shook my head, "But I fear I won't be able to celebrate the New Year with you. We must be away to Baltimӕr before crossing the Sea of Tranquility… and from there, God only knows" It physically pained me to confess this next part, "I don't know with any certainty when I will see the two of you again. I'll endeavor to write to you when I'm able to, but as you know, words on paper aren't quite as fulfilling as words in person"

"Then let's make the most of the time we have remaining" Lyra declared somberly but determinedly, taking Octavia's hand and mine in hers.

Octavia wordlessly agreed, drawing the other woman into a heartfelt kiss before doing the same for me. I pulled them close, enfolding my ethereal wings around them like a blanket of protection, and leaned my forehead against theirs, my eyelids shut. The three of us shared a peaceful moment together in intimate silence, and I postponed any further, hectic contemplation of the future for now. Instead, I focused on the women in my arms as I held them near to me with all I had and wished to hell and back that I never had to let them go, fully knowing how naïve the sentiment was and not giving a single damn.

Some things in life are worth defying Destiny itself for.