《Birthright》


 Preparations

    Saoirse Starshot delicately places and nudges the latest finery down onto one of the long tables that belonged to the Cadenza family with a sigh. The servants'' hooves feel sore from hours of scrubbing and ensuring every inch of the palace was immaculate, and no break was forthcoming; on the contrary, as guests slowly began to stream into the palace, a servants job was only liable to get more demanding.


    Blinking her tired eyes, Saoirse yawns. She¡¯d hoped that the festivities of the upcoming promenade would serve as a distraction, make it a little easier to liberate a book or two from the library while nopony was watching, maybe practice the ritual arts in preparation for another escape attempt. Running away now was out of the question, of course; the guards are on high alert to protect the aristocratic guests (from each other, as much as anything else).


    At any rate, that was not at all how the event was going; Instead of serving as a distraction, it seemed that everypony was seeking her out to get something or another done. Speaking of which, her brief reverie is shattered when she hears a voice calling out her name. The servant bolts upright and whirls around, before breathing a sigh of relief as she sees it is not the headsmare of the estate ready to punish her for slacking off, but rather the beaked face of one Seren Ardorwynn greeting her, one of the two children of the Cadenza dynasty whom she had grown up alongside.


    There is a gleam in Seren¡¯s eye and a bounce in her step as she approaches the servant pony. The majority of ponies who didn¡¯t belong to that specific subspecies of pony found the beaked, owl-like faces of gryph¡¯s like Seren alien and inscrutable, but to Saoirse who had grown up alongside her, the bubbly excitement in the avian ponies expression is writ clear.


    ¡°What do you need, Seren?¡± Saoirse¡¯s voice betrays a smidge of dread at the question, which together with the overtly casual manner of the question would normally have warranted disciplining for a lowborn, magicless blank like herself. But Seren simply takes it in stride, as usual; proper or no, formalities had long since ceased between this particular servant and aristocrat.


    ¡°I still haven¡¯t seen Hawky all day, and it¡¯s getting to around the time we need to go and get ready.¡± Seren affirms, referring to her brother''s nickname in an equally casual manner. ¡°I¡¯m sure mother will want to talk to us when she gets back, could you let her know we¡¯ll be getting ready up at my room if you see her?¡±


    Saoirse breathes a sigh of relief; that wasn¡¯t more chores to contend with, thankfully. Besides, having a task on hoof would give her a justification to stick around and not be assigned more jobs. So, she responds with a quick nod. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll let her know as soon as I see her.¡±


    Seren offers a warm smile to the servant and briefly offers an awkward hug which surely would have caused something of a scandal if any of the guests had seen. ¡°Thanks, Saoirse.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°Drat! I know I had it, somewhere around here...¡± Ceridwen Starhawk mutters, running one of his taloned claws through his mane in frustration.


    The gryph pegasus is presently holed up in the observatory where he spends most of his time, pulling open one of the many drawers entirely filled up with all manner of technical schematics, mostly sketched with his own hoof. Yet, frustratingly, the object of his current desire-a blueprint for a modified exhaust port-has utterly eluded his greatest attempts to locate it.


    Groaning, Ceridwen slouches back, staring up at the massive glass dome topping his current abode a dozen meters up. The building had originally been used for astronomical observations, but at present had been utterly taken over by the gryph as his own makeshift workshop. Discarded prototypes and sketches litter the ground, rendering the entire chamber rather a walking hazard. Not that that is any problem to a pony perfectly capable of flight, of course.


    Sighing, Ceridwen flaps his wings and rushes into the air, fluttering up to the circular window high up on the wall opposite the entrance, slumping into a halfway upside down position, his neck and head resting on the base of the cylinder formed by the windowsill while his hind legs haphazardly rest against the upward slope of the aperture. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll just have to try and remember it and make it again from scratch...¡±


    The pegasids musings are interrupted when the door to the observatory is enveloped in a deep blue aura and swings open. The beaked face of one Seren Ardorwynn, his twin sister, peaks into the chamber. ¡°Ha, I thought I¡¯d find you in here. I don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s any chance you¡¯re getting ready, is there?¡± The gryph unicorn''s expression makes it abundantly clear that she is not under any illusions that Ceridwen is, in fact, getting ready for¡­ Whatever it was he was supposed to be getting ready for.


    Scrunching up his face, Ceridwen slides into a sitting up position. Just what is it now...? Rolling forwards, he plummets from his perch, rolling in midair to land on all four claws before his sister. ¡°Eheheh...¡± Ceridwen rubs the back of his head, sheepishly, as he scans his brain to try and figure out what he is getting ready for. What day is it today? The first of spring? There was something going on on that day, wasn''t there..? Squinting, he blows a huff of air out. ¡°Uhm, of course! ...What was I getting ready for again?¡±


    Seren just giggles and shakes her head in bemusement, throwing one leg around her brothers shoulders as she tugs him towards the room''s egress. ¡°I¡¯ll never fathom how you¡¯re able to forget things so easily. It¡¯s the Promenade today, don¡¯t you remember? Mom reminded us just yesterday.¡± Seren points out.


    Ceridwen winces, his head drooping. Oh, that¡¯s what he forgot. Or maybe chose to forget, since he¡¯d much rather not have to deal with it. He¡¯d managed to get out of it on previous years, since the event was being hosted in some of the other lordships, but this year it is House Cadenza¡¯s turn to host the annual event, when all the duchies of the ¨©weri¨± Confederation met for a formal ball. Of course, the party itself is only secondary to its true purpose, a chance for the different duchies to politick and discuss policy, but thankfully Ceridwen doesn¡¯t have to deal with that part just yet. ¡°Oh. Right. That.¡± Ceridwen groans, voice tinged with despair.


    ¡°Oh, come now, Hawky, it¡¯s not so bad.¡± Seren offers sympathetically as she latches one taloned claw around one of his legs and drags him off down the hall. ¡°We¡¯re sure to be the stars of the show tonight! Who knows, maybe you¡¯ll meet somepony special?¡±


    Ceridwen shudders with contempt. His sister might be excited at the prospect of courtship, but he would far prefer to stay locked up in his observatory. ¡°Blech.¡± he sticks out his tongue from behind his beak, distastefully. ¡°At any rate, I suppose Mom sent you to fetch me?¡±


    Seren shakes her head. ¡°Nope! I¡¯m here all on my own before she had time to ask me to fetch you so I could have plenty of time to work my magic.¡±  She affirms with a cheerful nod, and a gleam in her eye. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, you¡¯re in good hooves. I¡¯ll make sure you look smashing, you¡¯ll be the apple of every mare¡¯s eye by the time I¡¯m done with you.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Ceridwen doesn¡¯t doubt her in the slightest; perhaps in part, that¡¯s what concerns him. He can¡¯t get out of one of his sister¡¯s infamous makeovers, now; he¡¯d just have to grit his beak and bear with it. ¡°Let''s just get this over with.¡± He responds dryly.


    <hr>


    ¡°Aaaand, done! What do you think, Hawky?¡± Seren cheers as she steps back clapping her hooves together.


    Ceridwen Starhawk huffs out a breath of relief, exhausted from the travails of enduring a fitting session for the white tailcoat he is being forced to wear, studded with sapphires that match the deep ocean blue of his mane and eyes, the moderate length of his normally flared upwards mane now neatly coiffed, trimmed, and combed. At least he got to keep the waves of mane that curl back around his neck.


    Even so, he has to admit, he does look good, even if the process to get there is a pain. His midnight coat, all brushed out now, has a nice glossy sheen that nicely complements the violet-blue wingfeathers that Seren had thoroughly preened and straightened out. The wavy back of his mane just snakes around the fringes of his neck a little, framing his face nicely, though he would have preferred if his bangs could still be forward. Not ¡®proper¡¯ enough, he guesses. ¡°I guess I look alright.¡± Starhawk reluctantly admits.


    Seren smirks, twirling the brush in her magic before placing it firmly against the counter. Whatever humility she might feign, to a pony who had grown up around her it is plain to see the self-confident pride behind it. ¡°Well, I for one think you look positively dashing. You¡¯re sure to be the envy of all the other stallions at the promenade.¡±


    ¡°Unlikely, since all their eyes are going to be on you.¡± Ceridwen mutters sullenly. Wasn¡¯t much point in envying the brother of the most eligible bachelorette, after all, since he isn¡¯t exactly their ¡®competition¡¯. Ceridwen can¡¯t help but notice the edges of Seren¡¯s beak twitching upwards in satisfaction at the observation, basking in subtle pride over her ensemble.


    Shimmering white silk studded with sapphires brings out the blue in her eyes that she shares with her brother, perfectly complementing her coat. Where most nobles opted for increasingly elaborate and often impractical dresses, makeup, and horseshoes, Seren generally preferred striking, vivid colors and deceptively simple designs; Her current outfit is no exception, the flaps at the rear split and curved in a similar fashion to Ceridwen¡¯s tailcoat, making it resemble more of a hybrid between the formal styles of male and female dress than anything traditional.


    Her mane is all made up into a series of elegant curls, the flowing back of her mane, normally tied up neatly into a functional ponytail, is instead braided into elaborate forms that her brother cannot help but feel is less appealing than her normal look. Fancy doesn¡¯t always mean better, after all, simplicity often has its own aesthetic appeal.


    ¡°Oh Hawky, you flatter me.¡± She playfully bumps into Ceridwen from the side. ¡°One can only hope. For now, we¡¯d best get ready, we don¡¯t have much more time before your debut!¡±


    Ceridwen Stormhawk shuts his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath. Unlike Seren by his side, he isn¡¯t looking forward to the oncoming event of awkward small talk with strangers and needing to put on his best behavior for hours on end. As if being pulled away from his studies wasn¡¯t bad enough.


    ¡°Are you two about done in there?¡± The muffled voice of one Beira Snowgleam calls from outside the dressing room, signifying the arrival of the duo¡¯s mother.


    ¡°Of course, mother!¡± Seren replies, pulling back the curtain and prancing out, obviously eager to show off her look. ¡°How do I look?¡±


    Strolling out after her, Ceridwen frowns; although his mother is smiling, there is a subtle hint of sadness in her eyes as she observes her daughter. ¡°Beautiful as always, dear. You¡¯re sure to catch everyponies eye.¡± The unicorn''s face grows more somber and serious as she places a hoof on Seren¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Just... Be careful. Try to remember that not every dashing stallion is exactly what he seems, and everypony in there has their own ulterior motives. Be cautious, don¡¯t let yourself be swept off your hooves. Remain vigilant and whatever you do, don¡¯t let any of them get you alone with them.¡± Seren blinks at her, seemingly surprised at the shift in tone.


    But before anypony can respond, Snowgleam turns to Ceridwen, giving the pegasus an encouraging smile. ¡°And my, I see your sister did as fine a job on you as ever. You¡¯ve grown into quite the fetching young stallion. I know this isn¡¯t your preferred way to spend your afternoon, but do try to have fun. It is a party, after all, and you¡¯ll be meeting lots of new ponies.¡±


    Starhawk laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Eheh... Right...¡± He remarks with a decided lack of enthusiasm.


    The two siblings¡¯ mother takes a step back as she addresses both of her children. ¡°Well. You should know, at your debut, your father will be presenting you. I know you two haven¡¯t seen him in a long time, but just remember... Make sure you are on your best behavior. And... Be careful around him.¡± With that ominous warning out of the way, the unicorn mare turns on her hindhoof and motions with her head forwards. ¡°Come now, it is high time we met up with him.¡±


    Seren and Ceridwen cast worried glances at each other. It had been unclear in the days leading up to the event if the lord duke would, in fact, show up, given how little time he spent around the castle. Seemingly, he¡¯d managed to finish up his business in the north with characteristic expedience; it isn¡¯t like him to leave work uncompleted, after all. Trotting along after, the two siblings follow along towards the ballroom.


    <hr>


    ¡°Hmm. Good, you both look... Suitable.¡± The decidedly less familiar face of Evander Featherdash, the twins'' father, remarks dispassionately, as his eyes look up and down the two of them.


    ¡°Thank you, father.¡± Seren bows her head respectfully. Keeping her head bowed, her ears flick towards the curtain, listening to the sound of ponies slowly streaming into the ballroom and quiet chatter underneath the sound of a viola slowly playing.


    The bare hint of emotion flashes into the pegasus stallion''s eyes; a sense of approval. ¡°Good. Observant as ever. Hold onto that, keep your composure but try and read into others behavior as well. Our lineage is counting on you two to form alliances and continue our line, so finding a good match for you two is of vital importance. You want to ensure your partner is hale of body, fertile, and from a respectable and powerful family. Just remember, the rest will be doing the same for you.¡±


    Starhawk does his damnedest to resist wincing, well aware that his father is watching him closely, but seemingly not quite well enough. ¡°Ceridwen Starhawk. Your emotions cannot be so obvious. I know you are uninterested, but you have a duty to your family, and if anypony can tell how you feel it will certainly hurt your prospects.¡± Evander lectures, every bit as emotionless as he was instructing his son to be.


    Clenching his beak, Ceridwen nods. ¡°Yes, Father. I understand.¡±


    Featherdash views his son with an unreadable expression for some time, before sighing. ¡°Well, there isn¡¯t time to work on this. Remind me to assign you more classes on proper etiquette, later. Now, I must go and greet the guests. I shall return to you when it is time for the promenade to start, properly.¡± Standing upright into a formal stance, and without waiting for a response, Featherdash trots through the velvet curtain to the large open chamber.


    Ceridwen lets out a deep breath and collapses down onto his barrel. ¡°Ugh, today is going to be exhausting...¡± Shutting his eyes tightly, he crosses his talons over his muzzle, bracing himself for the long night ahead of him.


    Seren eyes him with a look somewhere between pity, empathy, and frustration. Try as she might, she can never quite understand her brother''s apparent dread at these kinds of events. ¡°Hey now, don¡¯t be too upset. Maybe you¡¯ll meet somepony who shares your interests?¡± When that doesn''t work to cheer up the young stallion, she prods him on the shoulder. ¡°C¡¯mon, I know you like reading, but you gotta get out and about sometimes too. I¡¯ll tell you what, I¡¯ll make sure to save you a dance.¡±


    Ceridwen can¡¯t help but blush at the thought of dancing in front of so many ponies. He had enjoyed the lessons he was given previously; getting out into the world and moving was an excellent source of creative inspiration. But doing the same in front of so many others... Still, it would be less stressful if he at least knew his partner. Wincing up at her hopefully, he gives a crooked half-smile. ¡°...The first dance?¡±


    Seren just giggles and stretches her legs. ¡°If that¡¯s what you want!¡±


    Starhawk smiles back at her, reassured, and pulls himself up to his hooves. ¡°Well, guess I¡¯d better limber up before I go out there. Father will want to make sure I look good.¡±

 The Premier Prancing Promenade

    <div>


    ¡°May I present, Ceridwen Starhawk Cadenza, Son of Evander Featherdash Cadenza and Beira Snowgleam Cadenza!¡± The voice of House Cadenza¡¯s butler calls out from the balcony in front of the curtain, and the velvet cloth is pulled apart from either side.


    Alright... This is it... Keep your cool, just keep your cool. Ceridwen hopes nopony notices him swallowing from nervousness, as he blinks in the bright lights of the ballroom. Dozens of ponies fill the polished floor, all dressed in a variety of elaborate styles.


    None quite as good as Seren¡¯s work, though. Ceridwen internally allows himself a smug sense of prideful satisfaction at the thought. Though technically more complicated, there is a certain sense of sameness among the others dresses that all the elaborate embroidery in the world can¡¯t compensate for, compared to the unique silhouettes and striking, if simpler, designs Seren always put forth. Besides of which, her work is not nearly as restrictive to movement, something Ceridwen greatly appreciates.


    Slowly-almost painfully slowly-the pegasus struts out towards the rail of the balcony alongside his father, doing his best to keep his head held high and walk with reasonable grace. Keeping his gaze fixed relatively upwards not only keeps his chin up, but also helps him pretend that there aren¡¯t dozens upon dozens of ponies staring directly at him.


    Alright, just like rehearsed. Let¡¯s do this. Halting at the edge of a balcony, Starhawk starts by bowing down low, thankfully getting to close his eyes and pretend he isn¡¯t surrounded, splaying his midnight-toned wings out, curving upwards gently forming an arc with himself at the base. The otherwise deafening silence of the chamber is filled with polite clapping, and then it¡¯s time for the aristocrat to complete the routine.


    Leaping up from the balcony, the pegasus swings his wings down with a blast of wind, twisting acrobatically in midair before soaring into an aerial loop. Despite his misgivings, a hint of a cocky smile does find his face. For just a moment, he¡¯s able to understand his sister¡¯s love for showing off. Opening his eyes once more, the ponies below appear so much smaller and less intimidating from high up in the air. Swooping down, he thunders down to the ground, striking the ground with a hefty impact that rattles the entire room like a tiny earthquake.


    Is... Is that it? Did I do well? Anxiously, he looks around. The masks of absolute politeness make it impossible to tell how anypony around him is actually feeling. How typical. I wish they¡¯d just say what they¡¯re thinking, no matter what it might be.


    ¡°This year shall mark my son''s first appearance at the annual Premier Prancing Promenade.¡± Evander¡¯s voice booms from the balcony where Ceridwen had come from. ¡°And not a day too early, for he has reached the respectable age of 16. Many of you will know him by his scholarly work, being the youngest member of our family to ever publish a research paper!¡± The stallion did not feel the need to mention he was also the only member of the family to ever do such a thing, seemingly, nor that Seren was also credited as a co-author. ¡°But my son is a stallion of many talents, something I am sure you will all learn throughout the night.¡±


    That¡¯s probably the nicest thing he¡¯ll ever say about me. Ceridwen ponders internally. Still, none of it is a lie; Starhawk¡¯s interests extend far beyond the domains of his observatory. Really, the only limitation is the amount of time he has to split between all of them.


    At the moment, however, surrounded by yet another round of polite clapping, Ceridwen¡¯s only interest is anxiously waiting for Seren¡¯s introduction to take the attention off of him. What am I supposed to do now, I landed and I¡¯m in the middle but nothing else has happened¡­ Starhawk has just been standing there, doing his best to look appropriately dignified, but the awkwardness is definitely starting to get to him. Unwilling to stay in place any longer, he places one hoof in front of the other, walking forwards towards the crowd and turning around to watch the next part of the event.


    ¡°And of course, presenting the eldest twin and heiress of house Cadenza, Seren Ardorwynn Cadenza!¡± The clapping of hooves is noticeably louder and less polite now, a number of stallions off to the sides jeering excitedly and leaning over to whisper probably-crude jokes in each other''s ears. Ceridwen can¡¯t help but glare over at them for the indignity.


    Seren, hoof in hoof with her father, struts up to the edge of the balcony just like her brother had. Surveying the small sea of aristocrats staring up at her with a variety of expressions-Envy, interest, lust, and earnest interest-the unicorn can, for just a moment, understand her brother''s apprehension regarding crowds.


    But that feeling is overpowered by the swelling of pride in her heart. This is your time. Time to show them all what you¡¯re capable of! Strutting up onto the balcony, the unicorn leaps over the side, horn lighting up as each hoof makes contact with a block of solidified light just in time, allowing her to prance down a luminous stair of her own making through midair until she reaches the center of the ballroom. As soon as she reaches the ground, she whips her mane back and raises one hoof in a pose, smiling coquettishly at the crowd.


    ¡°It has been some time since my beloved daughter has made an appearance at the Promenade, but I am sure you all remember her last appearance. Then, she was a mere 13 years of age, scarcely old enough to join us. But as you can see, she has blossomed into an elegant and respectable mare of 16 years.¡± Evander begins, standing regally at the top of the balcony addressing the crowd. ¡°She has excelled in her studies and competes with our fiercest knights in sparring, while also becoming a skilled tailor and couture in her own right. She is truly the pride and joy of House Cadenza, and an invaluable asset in maintaining the peace of the realm.¡±


    The clapping that follows is decidedly more energetic than that which Ceridwen had received. Oh well. It¡¯s not like you¡¯re here for praise, anyways. Ceridwen ponders to himself. For now, he has a dance to redeem.


    Strutting up to his sister, Ceridwen forces a smile, trying to just focus on her to ignore all of the other strangers around, who had now begun to return to their socializing as the music picked up again.


    Multiple stallions are already lining up to take Seren¡¯s hoof, but the mare is true to her word. With the absolute epitome of a polite smile on her face, she lightly bows her head to the newest suitor. ¡°Although I would love to take you up on your offer, I am afraid my first dance is already spoken for. Perhaps after that, I can see if I can make time?¡± Turning her head to the side, she smiles at Ceridwen. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    Ceridwen offers a grateful smile back to the gracious  before him. His sister could certainly be a pain sometimes, trying to drag him out to events and could be a poor sport on the uncommon occasion she lost one of their sparring matches, but on a day like this there is nopony else he would rather have with him. He knew he¡¯d have to commit to awkward dances with strangers eventually, but he would like to delay that moment as long as possible.


    The stallion mutters something and walks away in disappointment as the Cadenza siblings take each other''s talons and meld into the dance floor. The familiar routine-Seren had been his premier dance partner while learning, after all, so he is quite familiar with the process-did much to ease Ceridwen¡¯s nerves, permitting him to just focus on the classical steps rather than the party around him.


    Of course the dance itself is not much to his taste, far, far, far too slow for his liking. Ever since he¡¯d ascended to become a pegasus, he¡¯d found rapid motion far more to his liking than this slow-dance stuff. Ah well, that''s the problem with formal events. Well, one of the problems. I still can¡¯t fathom how Seren likes these things.


    By contrast, Seren sways to the music with stars in her eyes, keenly aware of all the various eyes on her, and basking in the attention. Not that that is unique to just her; Though not as popular, Ceridwen is perfectly aware that different ponies are watching him as well. Aristocrats sizing him up, trying to judge him from what little they had seen.


    Just keep your calm. The more nervous you are, the worse it¡¯ll be. You need to keep your feelings carefully under wraps. The thought is hardly productive, since it only makes him nervous about feeling nervous. Unlike his sister across from him; despite their fathers advice, Ceridwen can readily tell Seren is making no attempt to hide her own emotions, earnestly playful as usual.


    Step, one, two, step, one, two. Just like rehearsed. Ceridwen keeps himself calm by focusing on the actions of the dance. With any luck, the musician would change to something more energetic soon and he could justify breaking into something a little faster. Maybe get a chance to stretch his wings a little. At least he can still use his wing as part of some flourishes in this dance, such as when Seren twirls in place on her hind hooves, underneath his outstretched wing.


    There is one major detriment to this plan of dancing with his sister, however; The more the two of them dance the more eyes they seem to attract, and Ceridwen can¡¯t help but notice that not all of them are fixed solely on Seren. Enough so that, it''s almost with a sense of relief that Ceridwen releases his sister''s talons at the conclusion of the song.


    With a bow of her head, Seren respectfully steps back. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure, my dear Ceri. But I¡¯m afraid I¡¯d best find a new partner for the next song. You should try to meet someponies while you¡¯re here, too, who knows, you might just hit it off!¡± She tries to offer him a reassuring smile, just before she is promptly swept up in the tide of eager stallions seeking to claim a dance.


    Well, that¡¯s my escape gone. Pondering for a moment, Ceridwen begins moving towards the hors d¡¯oeuvres; at least getting a snack would make him look busy for a moment, and alleviate the tension of simply standing awkwardly on the dance floor without a partner.


    Surveying the concessions table, a small frown tugs at the edges of his mouth. It would probably be expected of him to drink some of the wine, and being viewed as having unrefined tastes would likely upset father. Thankfully, he did have the home field advantage. Striding up to the bar, he leans over to speak to the bartender, one of the Cadenza family''s numerous servants. ¡°I¡¯ll have a martini, if you please.¡± Lowering his voice so as to speak at a volume only the bartender could hear, he continues in a lower tone. ¡°Water it down as much as you can without anypony noticing.¡±


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The bartender rolls his eyes but does not comment on the request. ¡°At once, sir.¡± The bartender turns around to bark some orders at one of the servants working at the bar. A sense of familiarity lights up in Ceridwen¡¯s eyes as the drink is brought out to him, and the gryph¡¯s beak quirks in the closest approximation of a smile that a gryph could manage.


    ¡°Saoirse! I didn¡¯t know you would be working on the ball floor.¡± Ceridwen greets, happy to have a momentary distraction from the proceedings around him.


    The servant across the counter from him grumbles, glancing down at the drink she¡¯d just delivered with disdain. ¡°Hmph. Apparently the guest list was large enough that they wanted multiple ponies to manage the drinks. Something about it being proper for appearances to seem well staffed. I¡¯ll never understand you aristocrats fascination with poisoning yourselves.¡± The servant snorts derisively. ¡°Still, for once I think I prefer my position to yours. I can¡¯t imagine having to play nice with all of these.¡± Saoirse¡¯s gaze flits across the sea of polite aristocrats with undisguised contempt.


    Ceridwen giggles softly in response. ¡°Ah, you never change.¡± Saoirse was rather outspoken in her disdain for the aristocracy and particularly her own position as a servant; she¡¯d almost certainly have been executed or banished or somesuch by now if not for the twins constantly bailing her out. ¡°Can¡¯t say I feel any different though¡­ Ugh.¡± Ceridwen groans, leaning over to speak in a quiet tone. ¡°I can¡¯t get out of this, but you could. What do you say I give you a job someplace else so you can ditch this crowd?¡± Ceridwen offers. ¡°Dare I say¡­ The library?¡±


    Saoirse¡¯s eyes light up in surprise and delight. ¡°Really? I mean¡­¡± A sense of wariness overtakes her features, one that Ceridwen had only recently started to get used to on the servants face. ¡°...This isn¡¯t a trap is it? I know how you aristocrats love your damned mind games.¡±


    Ceridwen winces at the lack of trust the servant showed him. It hadn¡¯t always been like that; as colts and fillies they¡¯d played together as essentially equals. But Saoirse had grown increasingly ambivalent ever since Ceridwen and Seren¡¯s ascensions to pegasus and unicorn respectively. ¡°Come on Saoirse, you know I wouldn¡¯t do that to you. I¡¯m still the same pony you¡¯ve always known.¡± Ceridwen pleads. ¡°Just tell anypony you see that I instructed you to clean up my observatory for an event later. I¡¯ll back it up. Alright?¡±


    Saoirse¡¯s cautious expression slowly gives way and she nods. ¡°...Alright.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and Saoirse?¡± Ceridwen tacks on. ¡°Do me a favor and don¡¯t try to run off today. The guards on high alert, and Seren and I won¡¯t be around to bail you out this time.¡±


    Saoirse scowls in response, looking away. ¡°It¡¯s not like I ever asked for the help anyways¡­¡± she mutters, stepping back from the counter. Ceridwen watches as she goes and speaks to the barkeep, before sighing and shaking his head. Everything had just gotten so much more complicated since colthood, huh?


    Almost as if right on cue,  another pony approaches the counter, a young unicorn mare perhaps a year younger than Ceridwen himself by the looks of it. She must have been from the west, given her exotic appearance; a curved horn almost like an antler coupled with a scaly underbelly.


    ¡°A pleasure to meet you.¡± She begins cordially, with a peculiar if refined accent Starhawk had certainly never heard before. ¡°Allow me to introduce myself, I am Victoria Silvershine of House Iutru. Might I beg you for a dance?¡± The unicorn¡¯s voice is less steady than her words might suggest, hesitating slightly between syllables as if trying to remember the correct words.


    Although he feels somewhat less than at ease, the offer at least would spare him the indignity of looking for a partner for himself, so Ceridwen bobs his head up and down in agreement.


    Alright, think, try to remember etiquette classes. After only a brief pause, Starhawk responds, ¡°It would be my pleasure, milady. Allow me to introduce myself in turn, I am Ceridwen Starhawk of House Cadenza.¡± Everypony in the building already knew that, obviously; reintroducing himself is simply a formality. These things had long been refined by the aristocracy to almost a ritual.


    Offering a taloned hoof to his partner, Ceridwen reluctantly steps out onto the ballroom floor. The song playing now is still a little lethargic by Ceridwen¡¯s standards but it''s at least not quite as slow as the one he¡¯d danced with Seren too, more of a smooth, upbeat tune. In a way, it almost felt too casual for the event.


    Even if the song is slightly more appropriate to Ceridwen¡¯s general tastes, though, the dance is undeniably clumsier; perhaps that is to be expected, since he is dancing with a stranger rather than a partner he was used to. Forcing himself to open his mouth, he makes his best attempt at small talk, but his mind is entirely elsewhere.


    <hr>


    ¡°Well, it has been a pleasure, sir Eiru.¡± Seren crosses her legs and bows her head in a respectful gesture to the stallion who had just served as her dance partner. ¡°I should hope we may have a chance to speak more, after the ball.¡±


    The stallion, an older noble from the north, bows his head in reply. ¡°It would be my honor. As for now, I think I shall avail myself of the refreshments.¡±


    Seren gives a smile-a polite, but all too genuine smile, perhaps out of place in the sea of carefully masked expressions-to the departing stallion as she leans back against the wall, awaiting the next song to begin. Of course, she barely gets a moment of rest before another of her myriad suitors finds her.


    ¡°Milady, might I borrow a moment of your time?¡± The deep, velvety voice of yet another stallion asks her. Glancing over, she is confronted by the sight of a muscular, well-built unicorn with a pristine black coat and strawberry colored hair. ¡°I know your time is precious, as surely a mare as beautiful as you has many ardent admirers, but I must say that I am honored to count myself among them. Might I trouble you for a dance?¡±


    Seren purses her beak to hide the self-confident smirk that was growing there; perhaps the somewhat alien appearance of a gryph to other ponish races was an advantage, at times. ¡°Enchant¨¦. Might I know the name of my partner, before we begin?¡± She inquires, stepping out from the wall and crossing in front of the stallion.


    Bowing his head steeply, the unicorn crosses his hoof over his chest. ¡°Elias Rosewine of house Powell, milady. The greatest of pleasures to make your acquaintance.¡±


    ¡°Seren Ardorwynn, of house Cadenza.¡± Seren gives the customary reply, as the musicians begin their next song. A broad smile spreads across her face as she hears the first chords of viola and piano pick up. She knows this song, it was one of her favorites, and she knows the dance that goes alongside it by heart. ¡°I share the sentiment. Now, shall we?¡±


    Hoof in hoof, the pair of dancers make their way out to the open floor, Seren seeking out a spot where there is plenty of room for movement. Thankfully that is not difficult to find, since with several songs already gone by, many ponies have retired to the refreshments table or are gossiping in corners. Still, plenty of eyes are on the duo as Seren sizes up her dance partner.


    It''s a good thing that the both of them are fit specimens, because this dance in particular is far more exhilarating than the previous ones, complete with fanciful twirls, jumps, and more elaborate moves that required fine precision and balance. Thankfully for Seren, her partner seems quite competent, as she leans back on just one hoof gracefully with the stallion''s presence helping stabilize her.


    Such is the energy of the motion, however, that the two barely speak for the duration of the dance, instead caught up in the frenetic motions. Shame Ceri isn¡¯t out here, I¡¯m sure he¡¯d enjoy this dance more than the last. Seren ponders internally; her twin might not have as much taste for refinement as her, but he certainly enjoyed a good bout of energetic movement.


    When the song finally starts to wind down and Seren falls back down onto all four hooves, she is breathing heavily from exertion, but the shine sparkling in her eyes has certainly not faded one bit.


    ¡°Well¡­ You¡¯re certainly a¡­ energetic dancer!¡± Rosewine huffs out between breaths, equally as exerted. ¡°Perhaps¡­ We might¡­ Take a short rest and seek some refreshments?¡±


    Seren nods. She hadn¡¯t left the dance floor since the ball had begun, and her throat is starting to feel awful dry.


    Hoof in hoof, Rosewine leads Seren to the bar, where he leans over the counter. ¡°A vodka martini for me, and this fine maiden beside me.¡±


    That was not exactly what Seren would have picked, but correcting the stallion feels rude, so she decides to just roll with it. ¡°So, how are things out in Hyperaustralis? That is where you¡¯re from, right?¡± She asks cordially while she waits for the beverage. She already knew the answer of course, she knew where every noble family in the room came from, but it was a suitable ice breaker.


    ¡°Oh, you know how it is. It¡¯s been all quiet for the last few years. A welcome change of pace, to be sure.¡± Rosewine replies smoothly. ¡°The natives seem to have largely accepted their lot in life by now. Our territory has seen the greatest economic growth in the confederation in the last couple years!¡± He boasts, as the two beverages arrive. Seren reaches for one, but Rosewine takes them both before she can grab it, shuffling his hooves in front of the glasses to thoroughly mix them; the action draws Seren¡¯s attention, leaving her to not notice the silent ignition of his horn. Soon enough, he slides one of the glasses over to her.


    Seren takes the drink and comment in stride, nodding her head along. ¡°I¡¯m sure the fresh air must be nice down south. There¡¯s a lot of forest there, right? I¡¯ve lived in the city all my life, so I¡¯ve barely ever seen any real wilderness.¡± She smiles a little melancholically at the stallion.


    Rosewine barely manages to avoid snorting contemptuously, instead offering a charming smile. ¡°I suppose I¡¯m having a similar experience, the bustle of the city is new to me. We have prosperous towns of course, but nothing as great as the jewel of the south, here.¡± He pauses his dialogue to pointedly take a drink, prompting Seren to do the same. ¡°And here you are, the brightest gem in the room. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve had your share of suitors by now?¡±


    Seren blushes in response. ¡°I-I¡¯m afraid not, but then again, I haven¡¯t been able to attend as many formal events as I would like in recent times.¡± She confesses. ¡°I have been enjoying the company of your peers this fine afternoon, but as this is my formal debut, I have yet to receive any proposals.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so you¡¯re saying I still have a chance?¡± Rosewine smiles confidently as he takes another drink. ¡°You should know milady, every stallion in this chamber was smitten with you on sight. I would have to imagine you will soon be drowning in more proposals than you would know what to do with. But I should hope you might consider my own, should it come to that?¡± Surreptitiously, he places one of his hooves upon hers and leans in closer.


    Seren feels her cheeks heating up further. Why was she feeling so flustered? She should have been prepared for conversations like this, but instead, she feels... Theres a sensation like a deep heat inside of her, and she feels her heart beating faster. ¡°W-Well, mr. Rosewine, I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know what to say!¡± Seren¡¯s careful mannerisms slip.


    ¡°Then say nothing at all, dear Seren. I am more than content to simply bask in your presence.¡± Elias Rosewine states, sliding closer still. ¡°I must count myself as the luckiest stallion here, to have the pleasure of your company.¡±


    Seren¡¯s mind goes blank, her thoughts scrambling. A vague sense of ominousness tugs at the very fringe of her mind, but it is too distant to put a hoof on. Wasn¡¯t there something she was supposed to be careful of? Oh, it was probably nothing. ¡°Y-you¡¯re too kind, sir Rosewine! I am sure my conversation cannot be that enticing.¡± She giggles, swaying on her hooves.


    Rosewine gives her a concerned look; in her current state, she does not notice the self-confident smirk hiding underneath it. ¡°Milady, is something the matter? You seem a tad out of sorts.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯ll be fine. I think I just need to... lay down.¡± Seren stammers out, stumbling on her hooves. Lie down. Yes, that sounded good. There are far too many ponies in here, too many eyes on her. How could she handle it? As flattered as she feels, it is also a lot of pressure¡­

 Protective Instinct

    <div>


    Victoria is saying something, but Ceridwen does not hear it, as his gaze locates the target of his interest, currently being helped up a flight of stairs leading to the guest bedrooms by a lone stallion. Seren is smarter than that, she wouldn¡¯t let somepony get her alone. She knows how dangerous that can be. What is she doing? Different emotions war within Ceridwen¡¯s head; The impulse to trust his sister knows what she¡¯s doing, and respect her privacy, against the protective instinct within him.


    It does not take long for one side to win out. Turning to Victoria, who is looking at him curiously having noticed his attention is elsewhere, Ceridwen bows his head apologetically. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m afraid something just came up. It''s been a pleasure meeting you, and I hope to see you again at the promenade.¡± That abrupt departure would surely be seen as an insult to her family, but he quite simply has more important things to worry about presently.


    Even as he begins to first briskly walk, and then trot, his mind runs through the scenario. Surely, nothing is wrong, right? His sister is too smart to put herself in any danger. Perhaps it''s an old family friend who Ceridwen¡¯s antisocial impulses had kept him from ever meeting?


    Despite those self-uttered reassurances, Ceridwen cannot dispel the cold feeling of ominousness that clouds his heart, as he watches the form of his sister disappear behind a closed door, and he breaks into flight.


    <hr>


    As quickly and quietly as he can, Ceridwen shuts the door behind him. The hallway is desolate, save for the sound of hoofsteps around the corner; unsteady, not at all like the graceful hoofsteps he knew by heart. Narrowing his eyes, the feeling of dread intensifies as he silently darts to the corner of the hall, peaking around just in time to see the decidedly ungraceful form of Seren stagger into a room, followed momentarily later by a black unicorn stallion, who before closing the door, casts a suspicious gaze down first the far side of the hall, and then...


    Ceridwen darts back into cover before he can be spotted. The sound of a lock activating erases any further doubt of the stallions intentions; there are no good reasons to lock just the two of them in there.


    What should he do? Run to get the guards? Get the master key from his father? No, that would take too long; he can¡¯t just leave Seren in there with him. Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerve, Ceridwen takes off, and flaps his wings with gale-like force, propelling himself into a spiraling missile headed straight for that door.


    Locks are more of a suggestion for an athletic pegasus, anyhow.


    With a thunderous crack the door sails off its hinges, a shocking jolt passing through Ceridwen¡¯s entire skeleton, almost stunning him as he flaps his wings to twist about in mid-flight. Thankfully, the two ponies in the room are far more stunned by the shock; Seren is laying back on the bed, a dreamy smile on her face with half lidded eyes, while the unicorn stallion is halfway in the process of climbing up over her.


    Growling, Ceridwen pivots in midair, swiveling his body over to dive into the stallion with both of his hind legs outstretched forwards. Two hooves connect with the unicorns barrel, throwing him full bodily into the wall as Ceridwen landed into a protective stance over Seren, one hoof raised and a fierce scowl on his face. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing, to MY SISTER?¡± Ceridwen practically screams out, flaring his wings out threateningly.


    "Oh, hey Ceri... What are you doing here?" Seren drolls out from under him, flopping over onto her side. Ceridwen glances down at her, an almost sick expression on his face. This is not the Seren he knows, that much is for sure. Was she just drunk? No, this is definitely something more than that. Just what had he done to her?


    Looking back up, Ceridwen realizes his distraction had allowed the unicorn to catch his breath and stand up, coughing and stretching his sore jaw. He must have been hurt, but he isn''t bleeding, and he certainly isn''t down yet. Spitting on the ground, he straightens himself out and smooths out his clothes. "Can''t you give a lady some privacy? This doesn''t concern you, mister overprotective brother." He states, settling into a more ready stance and circling in front of Ceridwen.


    Ceridwen snarls at him. "Shut up. I know you did something to her. I''ll wipe that smug grin off your face and drag the truth out of you if I have to!" Without wasting further time on banter, he leaps forwards, twisting his whole body in midair to swing his right wing with maximal force. The spur of the wing strikes his target right on the sternum, quickly followed by his other wing swooping after his enemy. But Elias ducks under the blow, and before Ceridwen can recover, the unicorn thrusts his horn into the pegasids neck.


    "Gah!" Ceridwen gasps in shock, swinging both hooves out underneath himself in a kick to shove the unicorn away before quickly grasping at the wound. Blood trickles down from his neck, but the wound is not deep; just enough to warrant concern.


    Rosewine''s gaze flickers up at the blood tipped horn and sighs heavily. "Now look what you made me do! I can''t believe I''m being forced to subject myself to this barbaric display." Lighting up his horn, a bolt of magic pulses out across the room, Ceridwen just barely leaping out of the way, twisting and swerving in mid flight to avoid another two follow up attacks before spinning in midair to swing his rear hoof down into the other aristocrats face. The impact slams Rosewine''s muzzle directly into the ground, and he staggers backwards as Ceridwen lands right beside him, throwing both forelimbs around his withers and shoving him to the ground, pinning him with his horn facing away so he can¡¯t attack directly. Time spent wrestling Seren had prepared him for this, and despite the unicorns struggling he is just about able to hold him still, not allowing him any leverage to resist.


    "Now, talk! And I swear, if that horn of yours ignites, I''ll snap it off!" Ceridwen barks out.


    Rosewine growls out, struggling to push his legs up under him but unable to make any headway without more leverage. "How dare you touch me this way! My family will know of this, if you dare to touch my horn I''ll-"


    The conversation is cut off by a pair of guards surging into the room. "What is the meaning of this?" The first asks, striding up to the two wrestling ponies and seizing Ceridwen by the shoulders and ripping him away from his quarry.


    Surprisingly, Seren is the one who responds first. "Sir Rosewine wanted to... To see me here, for some reason. Um. Then Ceri was angry about that for some reason..." She drolls out in a dreamy tone.


    Ceridwen winces at that and staggers back, shaking off the guard''s grip and casting him a baleful glare. "He did something to her, I don''t know what, but he did! She doesn''t normally act like this, and when I broke in here he was trying to force himself on her!" He shouts out indignantly.


    The guard simply levers a dry look at him. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she''s just infatuated? Mare''s do stupid things when they''re in love."


    Ceridwen stares at him aghast, while Rosewine straightens up. "Y-yes, that''s quite right! The mare seemed overwhelmed by the party so I simply offered to take her somewhere more private, before this ruffian broke in and assaulted us!" The noble exclaims, indignantly.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    No! There''s no way I''m letting him get away with this! I''ll... Thankfully for the tense circumstances, a sixth pony enters the room; the bedroom was getting rather cramped.


    Ceridwen Starhawk Cadenza gulps nervously, as Evander Featherdash steps into the room, a cold and stern expression on his face. "Explain." The twins father demands, simply, not a hint of emotion betrayed in his voice.


    The guard who spoke to him salutes. "The young lord claims that this guest did something to the young lady and was trying to force himself upon her! Sir Elias Rosewine by contrast states that Ceridwen simply broke in when he was trying to take her somewhere more comfortable."


    Not waiting for a response, Evander turns his gaze to his daughter. "And you, Seren?"


    Seren blinks, as if struggling to focus, as she rolls over back onto her front. "Um..." her tone sounds innocent, almost childlike. "I was just having a drink with sir Rosewine... Then I started feeling strange, so he offered to take me somewhere more comfortable... And when we got here, he got up on the bed, but then Ceri broke down the door and seemed really angry about something... And-"


    Further explanation is halted by Evander Featherdash holding up a hoof. "Enough. Rosewine, return to the party. Seren will remain here."


    Rosewine glances back and forth, seemingly wondering if he should accept the orders from the older stallion. After all, he wasn''t under his authority, technically; the pointed glares of the guards, armed with pistols strapped to their sides and mouth-held steel blades, quickly makes up his mind, and he bows his head. "Of course. I''m sure we''ll get this whole misunderstanding cleared up in no time." He shoots one last glare Ceridwen''s way before hastily making his retreat.


    Ceridwen stares aghast and surges forwards, only to be held back by the two guards. "What!? You can''t seriously just mean to let him get away! He tried to rape Seren!" The pegasus gnashes his teeth, scowling furiously.


    Evander turns to regard him coldly, as expressionless as ever. "And I believe you. You did a fine job, this fiasco could have had dire ramifications for our family if word had gotten out. As it is, nopony is any the wiser. As far as Rosewine goes, you have no evidence for your claims save your own testimony, and given your connection to your sister, I doubt that testimony would be worth much. I will not risk a political incident for the sake of petty revenge. The stallion has been cowed, I highly doubt he''ll be so brazen as to try anything with her again this evening." He jerks his head towards Seren. "Come on, I''ll have a guard escort Seren back to her quarters until she recovers. You should return to the ball, I saw you were making inroads with the other nobles. I want you to put this from your mind and keep up the good work."


    Ceridwen Starhawk scowls, eventually taking a deep breath and relaxing, glancing back at his sister, who is currently looking around the chamber in a daze. One of the guards... He doesn¡¯t know any of these ponies, he doesn¡¯t know if they can be trusted, even if they do work for his family. Not with his sister in this state. Turning back, Ceridwen shakes his head firmly. "No. I''m not leaving Seren until she''s feeling better."


    "Ceridwen Starhawk..." Evander Featherdash''s voice takes on the first hint of emotion it had displayed, an edge of hostility and warning.


    Starhawk gulps in response. Normally, he would back down, he knows his father was to be obeyed without question. But in this circumstance, he simply couldn''t bring himself to. Stomping a hoof down, and wearing the most resolved expression in his arsenal, he stands protectively over Seren. "I said I''m not leaving her!" He snaps.


    Evander stares into his son''s eyes for a long moment, seeing the fire contained within. Finally, he sighs, putting a hoof to his head in irritation. "Fine. I don''t have time for this. Do what you will, just know that if you start any kind of conflict with the other houses I will throw you to the wolves." With that, the stallion stalks off through the remains of the door along with the two guardsponies.


    "What''s wrong, Hawky? Why is everypony so upset?" Seren asks, stumbling off the bed and trotting up behind him to loosely throw her forelimbs around him.


    Ceridwen sits down, closing his eyes as he tries to calm himself. "I''ll explain it to you later. You trust me, right?" He asks, looking over at her sympathetically. That bastard... What the hell did he do to her? Seeing her like this just felt wrong. Not assertive or defensive at all, almost as though she''d mentally regressed. If this isn''t temporary, I will kill him. No matter what father says. Of that, he has no doubt.


    "Oh, okay. Of course, Hawky." Seren replies, affectionately nuzzling her beak against his.


    Looking over at the doorframe, shattered wood around the door-handle still attached to the wall the only proof a door had been on those hinges at all, Ceridwen quirks his mouth. "Hey, Seren? Could we go back to your room, do you think?" He asks, steadily. It would be more sheltered there. Rationally he knows it''s highly unlikely any guests would try something with him sitting right there, but he still feels nervous anyways.


    Seren tilts her head curiously. "Huh? Why? Isn''t the party still going on?" She grins with an unfocused look on her face. "Hey, maybe we could go back and dance some more!" She sways on her hooves as if imitating a dance but looking more like a drunken sailor who''d just gotten back on land after a year at sea. ¡°Maybe I could meet another sweet stallion and he could whisk me off my feet and we¡¯d get married!¡± She babbles on, eagerly.


    Ceridwen winces in keen discomfort as a musky scent fills his nostrils. Whatever that stallion had done to her, it seemed like it had forced his sister into heat. If there is anything that was certain, it is that he is not allowing her anywhere near the ballroom, that scent would drive just about any compatible stallion into mania.


    "I... Want to show you something." Ceridwen lies. He hates having to do that, but he just has to make sure Seren is safe right now. He would tell her later, anyways... Assuming she is back to herself later, that is. "Come on, walk with me?" Ceridwen offers a hoof in the most formal way he knew how.


    Seren takes her brothers talons in her own eagerly, giggling as she does, and bumping into him. "Oh, okay. Of course, dear brother."


    Shutting his eyes tightly, Ceridwen tries to steady himself before stepping out into the hall. Thankfully, the familiar formal walk seems to return some manner of instinctual elegance to Seren and she stumbles less as she walks, while Ceridwen escorts her down the hall and up the stairs towards her bedchambers.


    Only after the bedroom doors are firmly shut behind them and locked, does Ceridwen finally breathe out a sigh of relief. There is still a dim commotion from the party downstairs, but it is muted through the glazed terracotta floors. Turning back, Ceridwen trots over to the bed and collapses down into the bed-sheets, groaning. The tension, the pain from his wound, the pounding in his hooves from the impact against the doors, all wears on him, leaving the release from the pressure of standing suddenly quite the relief.


    He feels the cushions shift as the other pony in the room hops up onto the bed next to him, before plummeting into the covers herself. "It sure is comfy here, huh Hawky?" Seren asks, rolling over and stretching out so that one each of fore and rear limbs loosely wraps around Ceridwen.


    Ceridwen blushes brightly, burying his face in the blankets. She''s not in her proper mind right now, remember. He reminds himself. You just have to keep her away from all the other stallions. With that in mind, he reluctantly settles into the cuddly unicorns embrace. He can feel her, softly twitching against his fur, her hindlimbs squeezing around one of his own legs. ¡°I¡¯ve, um, been more comfortable.¡± He replies finally. Not physically of course... Just emotionally. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I slept here.¡±


    The latter thought, more of a musing than an actual contribution to any kind of conversation, brings back memories; colthood days, full of play-fighting, make believe, reading and sleepovers in this very same room. Only a little bit reluctantly, Ceridwen curls his only free remaining limb around his sister''s barrel, returning the affectionate gesture.


    Seren seems content with the position at least, giggling softly and squirming against him. I sure hope she¡¯s not angry with me once she snaps out of this... He sighs. He hadn¡¯t been this close to another pony in years. As much as he would have liked to just close his eyes and wait it out, he knows he has to stay awake; how else would he be able to do what he¡¯d promised, and make sure nopony gave her any trouble?


    Stuck in the grasp of a presently very clingy mare, Ceridwen Starhawk settles in for what is looking to be a very long night, indeed.

 The Hunt

    <div>


    Stepping out from the forest edge, Daithi Ironcoin gives a cursory look around before approaching the two guards watching the front gate of the country estate beyond. Just like himself, both of the guards are lowborn blanks, bereft of horn, wing, or any other particular magical talents. Fighting them would have been a plausible option if he was seeking to break in, but there was no need for that today.


    The guards eye the approaching stallion with suspicion, moving to bar his entry. In a cold, professional tone, the senior of the two holds out a hoof, his other forelimb supporting his weight against the spear shaft in his hooves. ¡°Halt! State your name, occupation, and your business here.¡±


    ¡°Daithi Ironcoin. I have an invitation right here.¡± The teal-maned blank explains in an equally professional voice, removing a small scroll from his saddlebag and handing it to the first guard.


    After a moment of looking it over, he nods and hands it back. ¡°You were not seen approaching the premises?¡±


    Daithi can¡¯t help but scoff at the question. ¡°I¡¯m a professional, I know how to be discreet. I took a route through the forest, nopony was around to see me.¡±


    Satisfied, the guard nods, and steps back. ¡°Very well. Open the gates!¡±


    The fine wrought iron gate, a natural extension of the spiked fence that extends around the premises, swings open with only a very short delay, and Daithi Ironcoin allows himself to be escorted inside. Casually looking around, he notes the defensive network around him. Though there are watchtowers with sentries and a suitably well-maintained fence, the estate is certainly not a castle and its layout not optimized for warfare. Just off the top of his head, he can mark out a hoofful of potential entry and exit points. Always a good thing to note, for future reference.


    Another brief delay later, and he is allowed into the front entryway of the estate itself, sitting down in the parlor while he waits. I have to wonder what it¡¯s like to live in such a place. Must be nice to have somepony else do all the cleaning for you. Ironcoin snorts at the thought, looking around at the finery; a suit of armor propped up against the wall, a finely made grandfather clock, exquisitely hoofcrafted furnishings and railings.


    This would be the third time in his life he¡¯d been in an aristocrats estate; most of the time, when seeking his services, he would just meet with a representative in a tavern of some kind; or more likely, just read up on the latest bounty listings without ever actually interacting directly with the client at all. There must have been something particularly secretive about this particular job, to have requested his presence in such a place without any details about what the task was.


    ¡°Welcome to House Powel, sir. May I offer you something to drink?¡± A finely dressed stallion in a formal tuxedo asks, prompting Daithi to nod. He felt more than a little out of place in these surroundings, but while he was there, he might as well take advantage of the offered hospitality; it wasn¡¯t like he would get many more opportunities for such extravagances.


    ¡°Very good, sir. May I recommend the Powell Carm¨¦n¨¨re? It is the pride and joy of the family''s wineries, aged for the past ten years.¡± The butler professes, presenting a bottle of deep-red liquid.


    Daithi glances down at it, skeptically. He certainly isn¡¯t in the know about what is considered good or not, so he might as well just take what was offered. ¡°That sounds lovely, thankyou.¡± He affirms, allowing the butler to pour him a glass and then leave him be.


    Whatever subtleties the flavor of the beverage might have, they are quite lost upon the stallion, though it thankfully for him is a fairly bold flavor. I could get used to this treatment. Daithi allows himself a small smirk as he swirls the remainder of the wine around the bottom of the glass.


    Such introspection is halted by the opening of the doors to the side, and the entrance of a middle-aged unicorn stallion, black of mane with pale ivory fur. Though well dressed in a red velvet dresscoat, something about his appearance did not give quite the refined appearance of his servants; perhaps because he was a longfang, possessing the enlarged canines and triangular ears typical to that particular breed of ponies, along with a more predatorial disposition. Daithi knew this pony; he¡¯d met him once before, and seen him from a distance a couple more times. The local lord, Duke Macsen Saberfang Powel.


    ¡°A pleasure to meet you again, milord.¡± Daithi bows his head steeply to the ground. ¡°I came as soon as I received your missive.¡±


    ¡°Quite.¡± Saberfang replies somewhat dismissively as he takes his place on the opposite side of the parlor table. ¡°I appreciate your discretion in this matter, as we have something of a¡­ delicate situation to deal with. Allow me to get straight to the point; I need a hit performed on this pony, without it being traced back to me. I can pay you five hundred bits for the job. Are you in?¡±


    Daithi raises a brow at the offer, skeptically. Obviously the duke would not tell him who the target was unless he agreed¡­ But was it worth the risk? What if it turned out to be some manner of suicide mission? He supposes he could take the money and run, if it came down to it. At this point, refusing the mission could be more dangerous than accepting, as the duke might simply feel the need to knock him off as a loose end and find a new pawn.


    So, with some reluctance, Daithi nods his head. ¡°What¡¯s the mission?¡±


    The aristocrat across from him slides an envelope filled with a handful of papers over to him. ¡°Take a look.¡± Glancing down at the papers, Daithi raises his brow even more. A curious way to do business. Flipping open the envelope, a number of details are printed out in bold ink, along with pictures of the target. But one detail immediately stands out to him; the name printed for the target. ¡°Elias Rosewine Powell.¡± Another member of the Powell dynasty? That was certainly a new one.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that my nephew has put our family in a difficult spot. You see, he has made something of a habit of¡­. Harassing mare¡¯s at formal events. At first, he only took maids and the like; things we could cover up easily enough. But as of late he¡¯s seemingly gotten more ambitious, and he¡¯s started to pursue members of the other houses. At the last event, he was discovered poisoning the eldest daughter of House Cadenza, and attempting to bed her under her suggestible state.


    ¡°Since the only witness was her younger brother, we were able to cast doubt on the allegations, but at the current rate it is only a matter of time before somepony comes forward with irrefutable proof. I don¡¯t think I need to explain how that would affect our families reputation. At worst, it could risk direct conflict with House Cadenza, conflict which would be very¡­ Inconvenient.¡± The aristocrat explains, while Daithi continues flipping through the pages of the dossier. ¡°If he was to simply¡­ Disappear, however, we should be able to sweep the whole situation under the rug. Your place in this should be obvious.¡±


    Daithi frowns, looking up from the dossier back to Saberfang. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I have a whole team for this? He¡¯ll have bodyguards, servants, not to mention his magical talents¡­ I don¡¯t know how I can be expected to handle this on my own.¡±


    The duke shakes his head. ¡°No. The more ponies we tell of this, the more likely that somepony will leak the truth. You were selected due to your past track record of success and our history of working together. As far as security, there is no need to concern yourself; on his way back from the promenade, we''ve arranged for him to be placed in a rather compromising position. His only company will be his chauffeur. You may do as you like with him, alive or dead it does not matter to us. All that matters is that Rosewine is taken care of.¡±


    Daithi leans back against the couch, pondering. As a perfectly upstanding bounty hunter, most of his tasks involved capturing outlaws and rebels or harassing tenants behind on their payments. Outright assassination is not exactly in his wheelhouse. Still, it does sound like the stallion in question had it coming¡­


    Just as long as they don¡¯t decide to bump me off after the job is done to tie up loose ends. Ironcoin contemplates, looking back up at the impassive expression of the duke. He had done work for him before, multiple times; Really, most of his jobs are technically in service to the duchy, sometimes above the board, sometimes under it. He hadn¡¯t been asked to assassinate any other assassins before, so it didn¡¯t seem likely that was the duke¡¯s modus operandi. So Daithi nods his head. ¡°Alright. Just give me all the details and I¡¯ll see what I can do. Where exactly is this ¡®compromising position¡¯ in question?¡±


    <hr>


    Clear conditions, little breeze. Ideal weather. Daithi notes. Not too bright to where it would obscure my vision. Should be an easy job. The blank stallion muses, nestling down into the long grass to the side of the road. Automobiles are still rare, but the aristocrats who used them had begun connecting their estates to the cities with them. Personally, Daithi has to question what the point was when a train line would fulfill the same purpose with much less maintenance and more reliability.


    Patience, patience. The bounty hunter checks the sights on his weapon, a Firehoof 9 falling-block action, 9mm scoped rifle. Despite what he¡¯d told himself regarding the ease of the job, he can¡¯t suppress a growing feeling of anxiety. He is used to that; Any time his job entails actually fighting and not just apprehending and dragging back some lowlife to prison, is a job he might not come back from.


    But this time is different. His target isn¡¯t just some criminal, but an aristocrat; a unicorn, with all the magical powers that entails. Sure, he is unarmed, but that doesn''t mean he isn¡¯t dangerous. An aristocrat is never defenseless.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    All those thoughts leave his head as soon as he hears the distant hum of an engine, and he immediately settles back into position, practiced professionalism overcoming the jitters of the mission. One forehoof places itself upon the lever at his side, the other holding his rifle steady so he can continue to see the road carefully through his scope. He had laid down in the best vantage point he had been able to locate along the road, near a bend which would force the target to slow down.


    It''s only another moment before the vehicle-a two-seat, luxury coupe, all glossy black and obviously well maintained-speeds around the bend in the road, swerving back around as it nears him, scarce eighty meters from his resting spot. Timing would be everything here. There would be a short delay between when he slammed down on the lever and the detonation; if he got it wrong, the car would simply speed off and he would be back where he started. Worse, because his target would be on high alert. For a brief moment, he almost considers not slamming down on the lever; It did feel like something of a shame to destroy a fine piece of engineering like that, didn¡¯t it?


    Ah, well. A job was a job. Around half a second after he switches the detonator, the TNT carefully buried in the gravel of the road erupts into a blastwave of smoke and fire, a deafening bang sweeping across the environment. Well, it would have been deafening, had he not been wearing his hearing protection. The explosion happens right underneath the car''s front left wheel, blasting the tire off its hinges and popping the other tire, leaving the back wheels to spin out of control as the entire vehicle slams towards the side of the road. With any luck, that would be all that is required, and he won¡¯t even need his gun.


    But as the door is enveloped in magic light and bursts open, leaving the way for a coughing stallion bleeding from the base of his horn to stumble from the wreckage, such hopes are dashed. Ah, well. Looks like I¡¯m getting my hooves dirty after all. Closing one eye, Daithi focuses down the scope of his rifle.


    Bang. It wasn¡¯t exactly a difficult shot, considering the short range, ideal conditions, and his target''s disorientation, and the shot rings through the air as the bullet thuds into the stallion''s side. But rather than dropping the unicorn, he merely recoiled and grunted in pain, staggering on his hooves before looking around in a manic frenzy.


    Guess I should have expected that. Daithi snarls, ejecting the spent casing and hastily raising the block action to insert the next round. He knows that mundane methods of attack are less effective against magical creatures, but it''s certainly something else entirely to see it in action, a shot that would have dropped an ordinary pony only fazing the stallion. Unfortunately for him, by the time he was able to reload his rifle, the unicorn had projected a shield around himself, holding one hoof up to cover the bullet wound, while his chauffeur stumbles out of the car''s other door.


    Trying to take that down was a lost cause; even a machine gun would struggle to wear down a unicorn''s shield. A more direct approach would be necessary. His target was still woozy, dazed, staggering about barely able to stay on his feet, and his attention distracted between his injury and the shield; He would never get a better opportunity than this.


    Sliding his rifle back into its holster, Daithi Ironcoin charges towards the roadside, brandishing his sidearm; a double-sided knife held tightly in his mouth, blades curving forwards on either side of his muzzle. The only way to counteract magical protection like this was to back up your force with your own strength.


    Staggering back on his feet, Rosewine is just barely able to make out the form of his approaching assailant, his vision blurry and hearing muffled by the explosion from moments ago. Blindly firing off magic from his horn, the beam of concentrated magical light scorches a path across the gravel and into the woods, severing leaves and foliage like a hot knife through butter but entirely missing his actual target.


    Daithi is almost on him by the time he manages to focus enough to fire another beam. The blank stallion darts left, avoiding the magical beam before lunging with the double sided knife held tightly in his mouth, the tip of the blade ripping through the well-maintained coat of the stallion and triggering a spurt of hot blood.


    Rosewine stares at both the wound and his attacker aghast, as if in disbelief. ¡°A mere commoner? You dare attack Me?¡± Stomping his hoof down, he emits a surge of magic, stinging Daithi¡¯s skin and sending him skidding back on his hooves.


    Silently thanking his lucky stars that his target was not a more skilled practitioner of the magical arts, Daithi merely snarls and charges in once more. He had to finish this quickly, before Rosewine could recover from his shock. Jerking his head to one side, he lunges with his knife directly at the bullet wound. Rosewine just barely conjures a shield to protect the area, and the knife skids off the flat, circular barrier, instead piercing Rosewine¡¯s flank.


    The aristocrat emits a howl of pain, swinging his hoof haphazardly like a club for Daithi¡¯s head, who ducks under it. ¡°As if I could be killed by somepony like you! Do you have any idea who I-¡±


    Daithi has no interest in engaging in that particular line of dialogue, as he bolts up from the low position he had taken from dodging under Rosewine¡¯s hoof, headbutting his opponent in the abdomen. The wind is knocked from Rosewine¡¯s sails, halting his haughty speech in an instant.


    Now¡¯s your chance. Before he recovers. Unslinging the rifle from his shoulder, Daithi rams the barrel into the soft place below Rosewine¡¯s jawline, and pulls the trigger.


    Bang.


    Magical resistance or no, a firearm fired in close contact with the skin was going to do some serious damage; doubly so, fired directly upwards into the skull. The bullet ricochets around inside the skull of the unfortunate noble, liquefying his nervous matter. For a brief moment the body stumbles like a headless chicken before flopping to the ground, deader than dirt.


    With a clatter, Daithi¡¯s rifle falls to the ground as he staggers back. That was it; Another job done. That makes the third pony I¡¯ve had to kill in this line of work. Daithi notes with a hint of remorse, before his gaze strays over to the other pony present, the chauffeur who was currently backing up down the road, nervously glancing backwards as if pondering whether his best bet was to run or stand his ground. Shall that make four, in a minute?


    Lifting the rifle up again and ejecting the spent casing, Daithi ponders his choices. The logical thing to do would be to kill the chauffeur as well; the fewer witnesses the better. But, strictly speaking, the pony hadn¡¯t done anything wrong, and he hadn¡¯t been part of the contract¡­ And, of course, Ironcoin had entirely covered up his identity, black bounty hunter garb complete with goggles to mask any identifying features.


    Sighing, Daithi shakes his head. Damn him and that annoying little voice of conscience. ¡°You¡¯re not part of the contract. Get lost, and I won¡¯t have to come after you.¡± He growls out in a threatening tone, slamming another bullet into his rifle and cocking it.


    The chauffeur did not need any more encouragement, turning around and galloping down the road towards the nearest town, screaming in panic the whole way.


    Well, that¡¯s a job done. Guess it¡¯s high time to make myself scarce. Daithi takes one last look at the wreckage, shakes his head, and melds away back into the forest.


    <hr>


    First things first, Daithi Ironcoin was heading back home. Stashing his weapons and ensuring he didn¡¯t have the clothes worn during the attack took top priority, long before he would worry about heading back to the manor and seeking payment. He would want to stow the evidence before any kind of search warrant could get underway, after all.


    You wouldn¡¯t have to worry about this if you¡¯d just shot the other pony. Daithi can¡¯t help but grumble internally. The assassination had been carried out in the countryside, he likely would have had days before it was discovered. But nooo, he just had to leave a surviving witness, and now he had to rush to make sure he wasn¡¯t caught.


    The danger shouldn¡¯t be too severe; After all, the Duke would not want him to be caught and potentially spill his secrets, so the investigation would surely be stalled and then dropped. But a suspicious blank strutting through the alleyways of the castle town with a black bag draped over his shoulder¡­ Yeah, that would attract some unwanted attention, so he¡¯d best be quick about it. Trotting down the humid, poorly drained space between an old stone wall and the wattle-and-daub walls of a merchant¡¯s house, he turns another corner sharply as he sees another pony coming from the other way. The less ponies saw him, the better.


    Thankfully, he knew the passages back home like the back of his hoof, and soon enough he had reached the trapdoor that led to his family''s residence, underneath the old shop his father had run when he was a colt. Nowadays, the space upstairs was all leased out as his folks'' business had dried up, and his father found work running supply trips for the guild; They¡¯d have lost their home years ago if not for Daithi keeping them in the green. Pulling the trap door shut behind him and flicking the key back into his bag, he trots down the earthen hallway. ¡°I¡¯m home!¡±


    ¡°Amber? That you?¡± The familiar voice of his mother calls out from a room down the hall. Grunting confirmation, Daithi does not go straight to greet her but instead pops into his own room, the same bed he¡¯d slept in since he was twelve. The same bed that, presently, his younger brother, Cailleach, is laying on, reading one of the books he kept by his bedside.


    Raising a brow, Daithi steps into the room. ¡°Don¡¯t you have your own bedroom you could be doing that in?¡± He asks, as he steps over to the corner of the room where his secret stash was and sits down.


    The colt looks over at the newcomer and, after placing a bookmark in his book, hops up to his hooves, stretching. ¡°Yeah, but you weren¡¯t home, and your bed is bigger than mine!¡± He justifies. ¡°Where¡¯ve you been all day?¡±


    Daithi lets the bag fall from his shoulders, carefully keeping its contents concealed from his younger brother. ¡°Ah, just keeping us up on our rent. It was a good day of work today, we should be able to afford you a bigger bed if that''s what you want.¡± That was rather an understatement, but if he explained exactly how much he had made that day, Cailleach would surely ask questions. He knew in vague terms what he did, of course; that he often helped catch criminals and the like. But the details¡­ The colt didn¡¯t need to know about that.


    ¡°Really?¡± Cailleach jumps up in place excitedly. ¡°You think so? You must¡¯ve worked really hard! I wish I was grown up already so I could help, too. I¡¯d be like your deputy! Or, sidekick!¡±


    Daithi narrows his eyes, and perhaps more forcefully than he means to, replies with a stern and simple, ¡°No.¡± His brother instantly wilts in place, discouraged, and leans back to sit on his haunches, pouting.


    ¡°What, you don¡¯t think I can do it¡­? I¡¯ll show you, I¡¯ll grow up to be strong and smart just like you¡­ You¡¯ll see.¡± Cailleach crosses his hooves, puffing out one cheek, and Daithi¡¯s expression softens as he walks over to the colt.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that. Just, pursue your own life, alright? I already have this covered, you should just focus on your education. Don¡¯t try to be like me, I¡¯m not.. Not a good pony.¡± Daithi tries to explain gently, but Cailleach only stares up at him confused. He didn¡¯t have the will to explain to him what he meant-explain the quite literal blood on his hooves, or exactly what being a bounty hunter actually entailed. ¡°Look, just, go wash up, alright? I¡¯m sure Mom will be making dinner. I¡¯ve got to take care of something first.¡±


    Without waiting for his brother''s response, Daithi ushers him out of the door and shuts it behind him. One of these days, he knew, Cailleach was likely to discover just how he kept the family fed and housed¡­ But if he had his way about it, that day would be a long time coming. Turning back, he makes for the corner of the room, where his secret storage locker was hidden, underneath the floor. He has evidence to hide.

 Forever Blooming

    <div>


    ¡°Rise an¡¯ shine, sleepy ''ead!¡± The familiar chipper voice of Aria¡¯s older sister violently wrenches her from the pleasant dream she had been having, just before her eyes are pried open by Roisin Sunshine¡¯s hooves, leaving her to have her vision overwhelmed by the beaming face of the older bicorn staring into her own eyes, far too close.


    Such a scene would probably have been rather startling, if she wasn¡¯t entirely too used to being woken in such a manner. Even so, didn¡¯t Sunshine seem particularly energized this morning?


    ¡°C''mon, ya''ll don''t wanna be late ta yer own namin'' ceremony, do ya?¡± Sunshine asks, grinning ear to ear.


    ¡°Oh, of course!¡± The lightbulb clicks on in Aria¡¯s head as she leaps clean into the air and bolts over to the window. The sun is still below the horizon, she hadn¡¯t missed it. With the fog of sleep dissipated by excitement, memory of what today was for quickly returns. ¡°C¡¯mon, when do we start?¡± The excited green eyes of the filly find her sister again, who giggles in response.


    ¡°Ah sure am glad t''see somepony around ¡®ere is jus¡¯ as excited as ah am! Ah Already got Torri up, so we¡¯re jus¡¯ waiting on you now, lil sis!¡± Sunshine jerks with her head towards the door.


    Aria scarcely needs any more urging, all thought of sleep utterly wiped from her mind as the excitement of the day overcomes her. She¡¯d had years to look forward to this; her tenth birthday, when she would finally get to choose her second name! Racing from her bedroom on the second floor, Aria bounces down the stairs after her big sister, closer to a bounding hop like a bunny than any kind of proper canter or gallop.


    Waiting for her downstairs, despite the early hour, is the third sibling; Torrent Oakleaf Rhodi, or affectionately, just ¡®Torri¡¯.. Smiling warmly, he trots on over to Aria, gently ruffling her forest green mane with one hoof. ¡°G''mornin'', lil sis! Ah sure hope yer as excited fer taday as ah am! Mah little sister, all grown up an'' gettin'' her very own chosen name. Ah''m Sure Sunny is jus'' as excited as me, ta ''ear what ya come up with. But sit down an'' have breakfast with us firs''. Don''t want a hungry stomach interruptin'' the ceremony, now do ya¡±


    Aria beams up at him, hopping from hoof to hoof excitedly. She knows the name she would pick, of course, but by tradition it was a secret until the ceremony itself. Ordinarily a ponies parents had veto rights, in case a colt or filly chose a name that they¡¯d find embarrassing when older, but Aria didn¡¯t particularly need to worry about that possibility.


    Hopping into her seat, Aria scoots it forwards, peering up onto the counter to see what was for breakfast. Rather than a normal meal of oatmeal-not that Aria had anything against oatmeal, but it was very standard-Torrent Oakleaf had made her waffles drizzled in rhubarb jam made with honey, and slices of strawberry. The filly grins broadly at the sight and happily dives in to munch on her meal.


    All the while, Roisin Sunshine had not stopped bouncing around the table, until finally Torrent reaches out one hoof in her path to stop here. ¡°Alrighty now sis, ah think it¡¯s high time you settled down. You need yer food jus¡¯ as much as the birthday girl here.¡±


    Sunshine squeals. ¡°Ah know, ah know, ahm just so excited! Mah baby sis ain¡¯t a little filly no more.¡± Sunshine wipes a tear from her eye as she finally stills herself enough to sit down at the table, and dig in with just as much gusto as Aria if not more.


    With food devoured, and the sun on the way up, Torrent ushers both of his younger sisters to wash their faces off so that they can look appropriate for the ceremony, before leaving to take his proper place, far on the other side of the barn, at the makeshift shrine the siblings had erected.


    ¡°Are ya ready, Aria?¡± Sunshine asks, smiling delicately at her little sister while she places the traditional wreath of bound daisies onto her head. Aria glances up at the flowers at the edge of her vision.


    ¡°You Betchya!¡± She chirps, before giving a sheepish look. ¡°...Ah hope that you an¡¯ Torri like what I¡¯ve picked out¡­¡± She paws at the ground a little, anxiously.


    Sunshine giggles and leans forward to nuzzle the fillies cheek. ¡°Ahm sure it¡¯ll be jus¡¯ amazing, sis, just like you.¡± Gently, she places a kiss on Aria¡¯s forehead, and the filly blushes, eyes darting this way and that as if worried somepony had seen.


    Finally, as the sun crests above the horizon, the time has come. Sunshine slowly walks Aria out, to the tiny little shrine the family had erected out in the backyard, near a pair of grave-sites. Torrent is standing sentinel off to the side, smiling wistfully at the approaching ponies. It seems almost like a miracle that Sunshine had managed to slow down enough to keep pace with her younger sister, considering how apparently bursting with energy she is, bouncing almost in place as she goes, eyes dilated and eager.


    Stopping on the dirt path heading up towards the shrine, Aria pauses between the two gravesites, turning to each one for a quiet prayer. ¡°Hey, Mom. Hey, pops. Ah¡¯m sorry ya didn¡¯t git to see me growin¡¯ up, but Torri an¡¯ Sunny ¡®ave been takin¡¯ real good care o¡¯ me. Sos... You can rest easy. Ah wish you could be ¡®ere.¡± Aria tears up a little, bowing her head by the two gravesites. ¡°Ah wish I got to meetcha. Bro an¡¯ sis dun like talking about it much, ah think it makes ¡®em sad. ...Well, ah¡¯d better go an¡¯ do this here thing, huh? Ah shouldn keep tha great seedling in suspense. Ah hope yer watchin¡¯ me, too, wherever you are.¡±


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Caught up in her monologue, Aria misses the knowing, ominous gazes that her siblings give eachother, or the shadows that pass over even the normally indefatigable Roisin Sunshine¡¯s face. By the time she¡¯s looked up again and opened her eyes, both of them are back to normal, waiting for her to continue.


    Taking a deep breath, Aria takes the final steps up onto the makeshift shrine, little more than an arch interwoven with vines and a pedestal underneath it. Normally, a filly would perform the ritual naming in a more public space surrounded by friends, extended family, and whatever strangers happened to be in the town square on that day. But, with how far the Rhodi siblings lived from the nearest village, as well as Torrent¡¯s general preference for privacy, it was just the three of them.


    Resting upon the pedestal, is an official-looking piece of aged paper, with some kind of floral design around the sides. Lifting the quill left for her, Aria pauses for a long moment before finally inscribing her name upon it.


    Aria Everbloom Rhodi.


    Smiling and taking the document in her mouth, Aria turns around to look at her two older siblings. ¡°Hi! Nice to meetcha, ahm Aria Everbloom Rhodi!¡± She reintroduces herself, presenting the paper to the two of them.


    Torrent smiles warmly, and pulls Aria in for a hug. ¡°Ah couldn¡¯t think of a mor perfect name for you, lil sis. Everbloom indeed.¡±


    "You betchya! A pleasure to meetcha, Everbloom!" Sunshine giggles, joining the hug. "Ahm Sunshine!" She gives a characteristic goofy, coy smile to the filly. "Ahm sure we''ll get along jus'' dandy."


    The newly-christened Everbloom closes her eyes, basking in the affectionate embrace for a long moment before Torrent finally steps back, and withdraws a small pendant- A stone disk, connected to a hoof-smithed chain long enough to drape around the neck. One of only a tiny hooffull of magical items still available to the peasantry, a makeshift artificial Seal made in imitation of the magical artifacts manifested by the nobility upon their Ascension.


    Unlike those true seals, this hoof-carved pendant, constructed with care by her very own older brother, possesses no real power. But the very process of crafting one for a pony you cared for did bestow one magical property upon it; Although nopony had written or carved the letters in, the disk is inscribed with her new name. Lowering her head, she closes her eyes and feels the chain link settle around her neck as Torrent hangs the pendant.


    Aria feels a tension she didn¡¯t realize she was holding in her chest release, as she raises her head once more just in time to feel Sunshine running a hoof through her mane, giggling.


    Smirking, Sunshine lowers herself to eye level with the filly, eyes darting back towards their residence invitingly. ¡°Now, what d¡¯you say we go an¡¯ open some presents? Ah think you¡¯ll be mighty pleased with what we¡¯ve got for ya this year.¡±


    <hr>


    Rooting through the darkness of the barn, another pony, not far off from Aria¡¯s age, was already searching for a present for himself.


    But to him, the presents, however nice they might be, are nothing more than junk. The only sound emitting from him is the growling of his stomach, as he frowns intensely. Just where did they keep the food?


    Moonshadow scrunches up his face, staggering on his feet as a feeling of wooziness comes over him, a more than familiar sensation. It was a feeling that had followed him his entire life, the one thing that drove him on and on; endless hunger.


    The door behind him creaks open, shedding morning sunlight into the room. Moonshadow looks back, freezing up in place as he finds himself looking directly into the eyes of a much older pony, with a dusty brown coat, pale dappling and two S-curved horns stretching upwards.


    The other pony moves first, scowling and charging at him. Moonshadow tries to run, but he barely gets two steps before that feeling of faintness resurges and he stumbles over his own hooves, his vision going blurry. The next thing he knows, he¡¯s locked in a headlock, pinned down against the ground.


    ¡°Just wot d¡¯you think yer doing with mah sisters presents?¡± The hostile voice of the stallion barks out, eyes narrowed in suspicious anger.


    Moonshadow loosely flails his split hooves at his assailant. ¡°Lemme go! I-I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± he shouts out, despite the fact that he had been caught red hoofed trying to steal from the farmers.


    ¡°Torri? Wot in tarnation is goin¡¯ on in there?¡± A concerned voice calls from outside, and Moonshadow finds himself dragged out into the sunlight.


    ¡°Ah caught this rascal up to no good in the barn!¡± The older pony, Torri apparently, replies, as Moonshadow squints, eyes struggling to adjust to the bright light. Just barely, he can make out the form of another pony; Another with a blonde mane, but more of a pale orange coat, though it shared the same dappling as Torri.


    This new pony peers down at him, curiously, as Moonshadow looks up at her with fear. What should he do? He wasn¡¯t strong enough to escape. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean anything by it!¡± Moonshadow stammers out, not really knowing what that even meant other than he had to say something in his defense. ¡°P-please, I won¡¯t cause you any more trouble, I promise!¡±


    The orange pony, surprisingly, smiles at him and lowers herself to his eye level. ¡°Aw, c¡¯mon Torri, he¡¯s jus'' a lil colt! Ah think he¡¯s no older than our Everbloom. An¡¯ look at ¡®im, he¡¯s all skin and bones! He was prolly jus¡¯ lookin¡¯ for somewhere safe to hunker down.¡±


    The older pony glares down at Moonshadow, who tries to give his most endearing and pitiable expression in return, though his focus was waning as his vision went blurry again. ¡°He¡¯s a stranger, in our barn! You don¡¯t want ¡®im finding you-know-what, do ya?¡± Torri belts out, tightening his grip on Moonshadow. The colt tries to speak up in his defense, but he is currently unable to breathe in order to speak. His vision leaves him, leaving the world around him black and imperceptible.


    ¡°Ah, for pities sake, bro! ¡®ave some pity. What if that there was our precious Aria, hungry an¡¯ cold? ¡®e doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s ¡®ad a bath in a year, ¡®an that scraggly coat of ''is don¡¯t look at all sufficient for the winter.¡± Moonshadow is not able to process the feelings of gratitude he probably should be feeling for that vote of confidence from the younger of the two ponies, feeling his limbs go limp beneath him.


    ¡°Hey you two, cut it out! Yer chokin'' the poor thing!¡± A third voice pipes up, the last thing Moonshadow hears before what little is left of his consciousness leaves him, and he blacks out.

 Glossary

    <div>


    Ascensions


    All ponies are born as ¡®blanks¡¯; normal ponies with minimal magical abilities, no Seal¡¯s, wingless and hornless.


    Ponies belonging to aristocratic lineages, however, ¡®ascend¡¯ (with rare exception) upon discovering their own latent magical powers. Ascension involves changes to the ponies biology and nature, along with the creation of a ¡®seal¡¯; a magical talisman which represents the ponies spirit and can be summoned to that pony on demand. Seals are often used as proof of nobility as they cannot be imitated, being entirely unique to the pony they came from.


    The specifics of an Ascension vary between different pony races; For instance, Pegasi usually have feathered wings, but a Deep Pony pegasus will instead have batlike wings.


    The most common Ascension is unicorns, who develop a single spiral horn that juts from the forehead, granting them the natural ability to perform spellcraft. Pegasi develop wings and the powers of flight and weather control, earth ponies develop powers over nature, the ability to draw life energy from their surroundings or make plants grow.


    The specific powers of an Ascension are based on the ponies Seal, and as a result even within the same ascension and race abilities are not entirely consistent.


    Other than the three most common ascensions (Pegasi, Unicorns, and Earth Ponies), there are a number of rarer Ascensions. Elementals have their bodies infused with the magical essence of a particular aspect of nature and are given power over it, in a less orderly and more instinctual way than unicorns can control magic. Seaponies gain the ability to shapeshift into an aquatic form whenever they enter the water. Shadows gain the ability to manipulate shadows and often interact with them in novel ways such as being able to teleport between bodies of shadow. Other, even more obscure or unique ascensions may be possible; the world is brimming with unknown possibilities.


    Pony Races


    There are numerous forms that a pony can take. First-generation hybrids between races have reduced fertility, and unless they breed with another race than either of their parents their offspring usually go back to resembling their spouses race. Each pony race inhabits different regions and has different characteristics, but their magic and abilities are all equal.


    Plains Pony: The most common subrace of ponies, resembling nothing moreso than the pony race from MLP canon. Some foreign plainsponies are known to possess stripes and differing mane or tail textures providing them a more Zebra-esque appearance.


    Hyperaustralan: A variety of pony with a number of cervid-adjacent traits including typical coat dappling, slender limbs, and split hooves. Males typically have antlers; Females occasionally do, especially farther to the south. Hyperaustralans are overwhelmingly in the lower classes, often near the poverty line, and live primarily in the southern regions of the Iweriu confederation ruled by the Powell dynasty. The Hyperaustralan language and culture is all but extinct, having been largely wiped out upon their conquest by the southern noble houses. As no aristocratic families are Hyperaustralan, the entire Hyperaustralan lineage is made up of Blanks.


    Bicorn: Ponies that possess heavier hooves and two horns, typical of the peasantry in large swathes of the central confederation. Often known to possess characteristics of caprids or oxen, they are still ultimately more similar to other ponies than the aforementioned wild animal species.


    Deep Ponies: A rare type of pony that dwell primarily underground, they possess thick insulating fur, large eyes with slit pupils, thin leathery tails, and split hooves similar to a Hyperaustralan. In high demand as guardsponies owing to their unique talents as night watchponies.


    Gryph: An avian subrace of ponies possessing four avian legs, downy coats that resemble feathers, and sharply curved raptorial beaks. They are primarily found in the eastern fringes of the Iweriu Confederation, mostly in the upper classes or nobility. Their forebears are native to the wilderness to the southeast, and may in fact still live in those unexplored regions. Despite their avian appearances they still possess the mane and tail of a pony, and unless they are pegasi lack wings.


    Longfangs: Ponies with extended canines, sharp teeth, triangular ears, thick fur, and decidedly fluffier and more muscular tails. Despite their predatorial traits they are still decidedly ponish, possessing hooves and statures similar to others of ponykind. They are, however, obligate omnivores, requiring at least some meat in their diet. Common amongst the southern nobility, especially those who conquered the Hyperaustralans. For that reason, Longfang-Hyperaustralan hybrids are common.


    Crystal Ponies: The skin of a crystal pony gleams with an amorphous, flexible glass-like substance, with their underbellies and the insides of their legs usually being uncovered by fur. Their manes and fur in general tends to be fairly thick and luxuriant. Crystal Ponies are relatively uncommon, belonging to a few ancient aristocratic lineages. They are notable for having the lowest fertility with other ponish races of all.


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    Kirin: Draconic ponies that possess builds somewhat resembling oxen, although more gracile, and covered entirely in thick scales. Similarly to bicorns they possess two curved horns, usually slanted forwards, along with heavy hooves. They also share some traits with longfangs, such as their pronounced canines and obligate omnivorous diets. Most common in the northwest, but rather elusive in general.


    Names


    Ponies have three names; A birth name, a chosen name, and a family name, in that order. Most lowborn families don¡¯t have a family name, and as such only have the first two; Some who were not named at birth end up with only a chosen name.


    Traditionally, the chosen name is a compound word rather than a normal name, usually representing that pony¡¯s interests in some way. Amongst lowborn, this name is picked when a pony is ten years old; often, the parents have to intervene to ensure the colt or filly does not pick something that will be embarrassing when they are older.


    Amongst the aristocracy however, there is a different tradition. Chosen names are selected upon a ponies'' Ascension, and generally reflect the Seal they receive at that time.


    Characters


    Moonshadow: Lacks a birth or family name on account of being abandoned shortly after birth. Split cervid hooves, scraggly navy blue coat,  and wavy, wispy white mane; emaciated from malnutrition. Bright green eyes. Intersex, nine years old, Hyperaustralan, Blank.


    Seren Ardorwynn Cadenza: The first of the Cadenza twins, the elder sister of the two. Possesses an avian countenance on account of being a Gryph. Silvery talons and beak, deep navy blue eyes, mane, and tail, midnight blue coat. Possesses a distinctive silvery spiral pattern on her chest, inverted compared to the matching birthmark on her brother. Mane is well maintained, wavy and luxurious, with silver streaks; usually kept in a functional ponytail in the back. Specks of silver in coat. Female, Sixteen years old, Gryph, Unicorn. Her Seal portrays a spiral galaxy.


    Ceridwen Starhawk Cadenza: The second of the Cadenza twins, the younger brother. Matching appearance with his sister in most capacities, spiral shaped birthmark is inverted compared to Seren¡¯s, and lacks the silver streaks in Seren¡¯s mane. Medium length wavy mane, flared up towards the ends. Specks of silver in coat. Male, Sixteen years old, Gryph, Pegasus. His seal portrays a shooting star.


    Saoirse Starshot: Servant of the Cadenza household. Ivory coat, Pale golden-brown mane and tail. Bright green eyes. Somewhat messy, forward-swept mane and bushy tail. Somewhat predatorial disposition and carnivorous diet owing to Longfang ancestry. Noticeable canines and triangular wolf-like ears, fairly athletic. Female, Sixteen years old (slightly older than the Cadenza twins), Longfang, Blank.


    Roisin Sunshine Rhodi: Middle child of the Rhodi family of farmers. Sky blue coat and long, curly pale blonde mane. Two curved goat-like horns and split caprid hooves. Cloud white dappling on coat. Deep orange eyes. Female, Seventeen years old, Bicorn, Blank


    Torrent Oakleaf Rhodi: Oldest child of the Rhodi family. Dusty brown coat, long curly pale blonde mane. Horns curve in an S-shape, deep orange eyes and split caprid hooves. Blonde dappling on coat and underbelly. Male, Twenty years old, Bicorn, Blank.


    Aria Everbloom Rhodi: Youngest child of the Rhodi family. Apple red coat, leaf green mane and tail. Horns still short on account of age, vaguely S-shaped. Mane typically worn in two pigtails with bright orange bowties on them. Tan dappling on coat, pale red underbelly. Ten years old, Female, Bicorn, Blank


    Daithi Ironcoin: Bounty hunter, lives in the northern Powell territories. Dark grey coat and pale blue mane, neatly combed, short, and functional, naturally forward slanted. White hooves and stripes. Male, Nineteen years old, Plains pony, Blank.


    Polities


    Iweriu Confederation: A vast, multiethnic domain consisting of many smaller duchies, earldoms, and principalities conjoined together for mutual defense and economic interest. Iweriu has no central government, with each duchy essentially being an independant entity, though confederation-wide standardization and agreements largely ensure some degree of homogeneity. Located in the southern hemisphere, the confederation varies from forests in the south, rugged mountains and hill country in the east, low-lying plainlands in the center and west, with semi-arid badlands to the north and northwest.


    Luddas: The capital city of the duchy which shares the same name, located in southeastern Iweriu. Under the rule of the Cadenza family, and one of the wealthiest duchies within the confederation. The city itself is considered the pride of the south, being one of the oldest cities with a wealth of ancient architecture on display. Mostly populated by Plains Ponies, but the largest collection of Deep Ponies in Iweriu is also located here.


    Hyperaustralis: Once the domain of the Hyperaustralan kingdom, now a rump state controlled by the Powell dynasty after its subjugation by the Longfangs there. Technically, the duchy known as ¡°Hyperaustralis¡± is only the northernmost tip of what was once the kingdom of Hyperaustralis, but the lands to the south lie abandoned and ruinous after the destruction and forced resettlement of the Hyperaustralan civilization. Notably afflicted with poverty and stark wealth disparity, population density is relatively high despite its lack of urban centers. The southernmost border of Iweriu, bordering Luddas to the north and Escratero to the northeast.


    Escratero: The farthest fringe of the Iweriu confederation, a vast domain in the far east held by the Iutru dynasty. Escratero, despite its rural nature, is fairly wealthy due to a long history of quality management and stability. A common stop for bandits and outlaws because of its presence at the fringe of civilization before the world gives way to the dread wilderness further east, Escratero¡¯s lawfulness is only maintained through constant vigilance. The noble class are Raptors, while the lowborn are largely a mixture of plains ponies, hyperaustralans, and bicorns.

 Renewal

    <div>


    "Mhmmmm..." The low, thoughtless groan is the first thing Seren feels herself doing upon slowly regaining consciousness. Her mind feels muddy, confused, and though she is now awake, she has no particular desire to get up, encompassed as she is in a blissful cocoon of soft blankets, warmth, fur, and feathers.


    Wait, feathers? Seren dimly opens her eyes, to realize quite suddenly that she is not in fact alone. The currently rather unflattering face of Ceridwen, laying with his messy bed-head against her pillow and mouth halfway open, is directly across from her. Her body is presently tightly coiled around his, clinging like her life depends on it. For Ceridwen¡¯s part, one of his legs is loosely curled around her beneath her barrel, and one of his wings draped over her protectively.


    Startled, Seren bolts up from the bed straight into the air with a shriek. What is he doing here!? She hadn¡¯t shared a bed with him since she was just a filly! Reaching back, she tries to remember the events of the previous night, but all that comes to mind is a desolate blur. Just how drunk had she gotten!? Seren gulps nervously as Ceridwen sits bolt upright, blushing and looking about equally uncomfortable as Seren. Her eyes scan his features, seeking answers. Please don¡¯t tell me that we... Right? Surely not, Ceridwen wouldn¡¯t have gotten that drunk. Right? Oh gods, please tell me he wouldn¡¯t have...


    Seren¡¯s fears dart through her mind, with all the sense of desperately trying to reassure herself. She feels... Oh dear heavens, she feels like she¡¯d been in heat last night. Just what had she done!? ¡°C-Ceri? I...What are you doing here? W-We didn''t..." Seren trails off, too terrified to put words to her fears. ¡°Y-you know. Right?¡± She feels her cheeks heating up to a bright crimson blush.


    To her immense relief, Ceridwen hastily shakes his head, waving his hooves in denial. "Woah, no, nonononono. What kind of stallion do you think I am? I was just looking after you." He starts, peering up at his sister flying overhead. "I, um, how much of last night do you remember?"


    Seren breathes a sigh of relief out, slumping against the bed. At least it wasn''t that. As much as she hates to admit it, she wouldn¡¯t have been too horribly surprised if she¡¯d done something unspeakable while drunk. Still, this circumstance did warrant some explanation. Why did she feel so fuzzy and¡­ flirty? What did he mean by ''looking after you''? Shutting her eyes, Seren struggles to think back. She remembers the start of the party, dancing first with her brother and then several other ponies. Then she''d gotten something to drink, and begun feeling funny, and...


    The events as she remembers them don''t make any sense. Surely she¡¯s misremembering, right? Scrunching up her face, Seren tries to piece it together. She remembers getting along great with a stallion named Rosewine and going somewhere private with him, but Ceridwen broke down the door and she didn''t know why. But for some reason, she had just followed Ceridwen back here instead of being angry with him. What in heavens had gotten into her?


    Seeing Seren''s confusion, Ceridwen breathes a sigh of relief himself now. "I think you''re mostly back to normal, at least. That''s good, I was so worried about you." He clenches his jaw, and turns more serious. "That bastard spiked your drink with something. I don''t know what it was but it... Had a certain effect on you." He winces in obvious discomfort. "I took you back here to make sure you were safe. I didn''t trust anypony else to watch after you."


    Seren stares at Ceridwen, horrified, as she pieces the new information back into context, and with its help remembers far more of the events of the promenade. "W-wait, you don''t mean... Did he..." The blood drains from her face.


    Ceridwen sighs heavily. "He was about to fuck you, but I got there in time." There''s a distinct warble of discord in his voice as he says that, looking sick at the thought.


    Seren falls back onto her haunches, blanching. She''d... Almost been raped the previous day, and hadn''t even realized it. She shuts her eyes tightly; she remembers now, every word of Ceridwen''s helping her piece together the events of the previous day more. "Oh, heavens..." She utters crisply after a long moment, swaying on her hooves unsteadily as the weight of that reality settles in upon her.


    Ceridwen flutters down next to her, frowning with concern and wrapping one wing around her. "H-hey, are you alright?" His voice drips with sincere concern, tender and gentle.


    Seren nods; hesitantly at first, then more surely. "Y-yeah, I''ll be fine. Thanks to you. Thank the stars you were there." She closes her eyes, and lightly leans against Ceridwen''s side. "Thank goodness..."


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    Ceridwen shelters her underneath his wing, frowning sympathetically. "Of course, Seren. You know I''m always there for you." He affirms.


    And it''s true. She does know that. But somehow, it hits differently now that she''d actually needed it. Curious ocean blue eyes find Ceridwen''s face. "How did you... Know where to find me? Or that I needed help?"


    Ceridwen''s gaze hardens once more, thinking back to the previous day. "I was talking with a noble from the west, when I saw you walking up the stairs with that bastard. I knew something was wrong, my sister isn''t dumb enough to be lured away like that. Plus, it did seem out of character for you to want to leave the party early." He affirms. "So I followed you up. When I heard him lock the door, I knew that he was up to no good."


    Under other circumstances she might have been irritated at her brother for essentially stalking her at the party, but not right now. "Then father came in after you''d fought him, I remember that. I didn''t understand why you were so upset, or why you didn''t want me going back to the party." She reconstructs the events of the previous day verbally, piece by piece. "You refused to go... Ha, I don''t think I''d ever seen you just refuse father to the face like that before, I''m amazed we didn''t both get thrown in the dungeons!" She giggles for a moment, even in the somber throes of the current conversation there is still some joy to be had. "You were so... Stubborn." A dozen different words she could have used there flash through her mind, but stubborn is the only one she says. The rest would... have to be unpacked later.


    Ceridwen nods in affirmation once more. "You were still really... Um, well, it seemed like it put you into heat. I couldn''t just leave you alone like that." He blushes at the comment, shaking his head. "A-anyways, I didn''t want anypony else to be around you, just in case. So I wanted to go someplace private and safe." He offers by way of explanation. "I-I was scared, Seren. I didn''t know what he''d done to you or if it would wear off." Ceridwen frowns, looking down at the ground. That memory... Seren so pliable, undignified. It was just wrong. "If you hadn''t gotten better... I would have killed him. I should have killed him. I..." Ceridwen''s hooves shake in rage, his breathing becoming shaky. "Why didn''t I kill him? He tried to... To rape my sister! To rape you!" His wings flare out and his stance widens, as though getting ready for combat.


    Seren gently rests her talons on Ceridwen''s, squeezing them reassuringly. "It''s okay, Hawky. You were there for me when it mattered." Ceridwen''s face, a perplexing and complex mixture of emotions displayed there, meets Seren''s gaze. Seren stares into his features, as if seeking answers there. After a long moment, she looks back around the room, melancholically. "...You used to come up here all the time, back when we were kids. Do you remember?" She asks, more than a little wistfully. It had been years since those days.


    Ceridwen blinks, somewhat surprised by the sudden change of topic. "Huh? I mean... Of course." How would he ever be able to forget? There weren''t any other kids in the palace growing up, Seren had been his only play partner.


    "I''d always get so upset if you ever beat me in wrestling." Seren giggles. "I think you just started letting me win, at some point. I think you liked the blankets up here more than in your own room, ''cause you''d come up here whenever you could get away with it. But maybe you were just lonely." She shakes her head, leaning against Ceridwen casually. "Not that that sounds like you, you''d forget the world if a good book got in your hooves."


    "That''s not true." Ceridwen responds, matter of factly, not with any sense of rebuke but solely stating it as a fact. "I do get lonely, sometimes. I guess I just don''t show it much. It''s... Easier to stay in the observatory."


    Seren frowns, tilting her beak to look at Ceridwen. "Hawky, you never told me that."


    Ceridwen just laughs and looks away. "Don''t worry about it. As long as I have you around, I can''t get that lonely, anyways." He brushes it off.


    Seren nods, settling back into silence for a long moment. The two just lie there, huddled together for minutes before Seren eventually stands up. "I... I think I''d like some time on my own, to think, if that''s okay." There was so much to consider. Coming to terms with what had almost happened to her, this nostalgic feeling that Ceridwen''s presence had instilled in her, the way everypony had reacted, and more besides.


    Ceridwen nods, flapping his wings and slowly lifting off the ground. "Of course, sister. Take as long as you need. You know where I''ll be, if you need me."


    Seren nods in response, watching the pegasus who had protected her leave, shutting the doors behind him. Unsure of what else to do, she trots back up onto the bed and lays down. Taking in a whiff, she winces in discomfort. Oh boy, that drink had certainly had an effect on her. She shudders to think of what would likely have happened had anypony save Ceridwen been there.


    And her father had been so willing to just leave her in the hooves of somepony else... Just so that Hawky could keep trying to make friendly with the other mares at the event? Was that all he cared about?


    But he didn¡¯t leave me. She shuts her eyes tightly. Ceridwen wasn¡¯t usually the most combative pegasus around; she didn¡¯t think she¡¯d ever seen him as angry as he had been back there. And it was on her behalf. It felt... Almost overwhelming.


    Laying back against the pillow, Seren stares up at the ceiling. She has a lot to think about.

 Ambition

    <div>


    ¡°Enter.¡± Evander Featherdash¡¯s voice calls out from behind the heavy oak doors. Taking a deep breath, and steeling himself as much as he can, Ceridwen Starhawk hesitantly pushes them open, entering the chamber with his father, two guardsponies standing guard on either side.


    ¡°Leave us.¡± Featherdash instructs, and the two guards file out of the room, shutting the gates behind them, leaving Ceridwen alone with the older stallion. Crossing his hooves on the desk and leaning forwards, Featherdash¡¯s gaze seems to burrow into Ceridwen¡¯s soul. ¡°Explain yourself.¡± The question was simple, emotionless, and straightforward, just as Ceridwen would expect from his father.


    ¡°Seren was in heat, drunk, and drugged, Sir.¡± Ceridwen states icily. ¡°I was unwilling to trust anypony I didn¡¯t personally know with her given her present state. She would have flirted with anypony you sent with her at the time.¡± There was a very good reason that ponies tended to avoid drinking when in heat, after all.


    Featherdash sighs. ¡°You don¡¯t think I know that? I would have sent her with female guardsponies. Should I interpret this as a lack of trust in my own judgement, son?¡± There is the barest hint of reproach, or perhaps annoyance, in his otherwise flat tone.


    Ceridwen shakes his head. ¡°No, Sir, of course not. Only, with all due respect, I wouldn''t trust the female guards with her either. Seren can be... Quite charming, and I did mean she¡¯d have flirted with anypony.¡±


    Featherdash snorts derisively. ¡°Big deal. Such a liaison wouldn¡¯t get her pregnant, it would be easy enough to cover up. At your ages our main concern must be to form alliances, and now the best opportunity has passed for both of you. You should have been betrothed years ago, now look at you.¡±


    It takes all of Ceridwen¡¯s mental fortitude to resist lunging at the dastard in front of him, or at least screaming at him. So instead, he simply remains silent, staring his father down with grim intensity.


    ¡°Nothing else to say for yourself, then?¡± Featherdash remarks. ¡°You know perfectly well the needs of the family outweigh that of any individual pony. As it is, we¡¯ll have to compensate for your lapse of judgment.¡± Sighing, Featherdash removes the pair of spectacles he is wearing and leans back in his chair. ¡°You will be taking more etiquette classes and attending every formal event you can reach until you find a suitable partner. You and Seren are both popular with the opposite gender, I¡¯m frankly in shock you haven¡¯t managed to acquire any value for us yet. I was married when I was fifteen years old.¡±


    Ceridwen barely resists rolling his eyes or groaning in response. Yeah, and Mom¡¯s regretted it ever since. ¡°Of course, sir.¡± Is all he actually states in response, though.


    ¡°Fortunately for you, I do not have time to discipline you further. I have work to attend to on the frontier, and much to take care of before I leave. But if I learn you¡¯ve been shirking in your role any further next time I return, you can say goodbye to all of your precious books.¡± Evander dictates, turning back to the graphs and financial charts littering his desk. ¡°That will be all. Dismissed.¡±


    <hr>


    Ceridwen is largely left to his own devices until lunch later that day. As usual, his mother drags him out of his observatory three times a day; breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Ceridwen figures that she probably just wants to make sure he gets at least some social contact and doesn''t completely isolate himself.


    Closing the doors behind him, Ceridwen looks around the mess hall. ¡°Where is Father?¡± He asks, idly, as he strolls up to take a seat by his mother. He could have sat anywhere at the immense table, of course, but if it''s just the two of them he might as well sit next to her.


    Beira Snowgleam sighs, shaking her head. ¡°He¡¯s left again, already. I suppose something came up during the promenade that he wanted to deal with.¡± Ceridwen nods, feeling more than a little relieved by that.


    His mother did not seem to feel the same way, however. Frowning, she looks over at her son. ¡°He seemed upset by something, and I haven¡¯t seen Seren since yesterday. Did something happen at the Promenade?¡±


    Ceridwen nods. He guesses he shouldn¡¯t be surprised that nopony had bothered to tell her; after all, father probably wanted to keep it as under wraps as possible. He briefly considers being all delicate and vague like most aristocrats probably would be, but quickly decides that isn¡¯t his style. ¡°Some rotten dastard from the Powell family drugged Seren and tried to rape her.¡± He explains bluntly. ¡°The guards got to me before I could beat the pulp out of him, but I at least kicked him off her. She¡¯s still in her room, I¡¯d guess.¡±


    Perhaps as was to be expected, his mother stares at him utterly aghast. ¡°He did what?¡± She asks, as though she hadn¡¯t heard him correctly, or thought the explanation would change.


    ¡°You heard me.¡± Ceridwen states, clenching his jaw and looking off to the side. ¡°Father won¡¯t let me go after the dastard though.¡± His spartan expression slips as he snarls. ¡°I should have killed him when I had the chance. I had him right there in my hooves... I could have killed him. I should have killed him.¡± Somehow, he feels that he will feel regret from that for the rest of his life.


    Beira leans over forwards and puts a hoof to her head, in shock. ¡°Oh dear heavens... To think such a thing was happening right under my nose. Thank the stars that you were there.¡± She breathes out, almost in awe. ¡°I¡¯m glad that you¡¯re both okay, that¡¯s what¡¯s most important. I can¡¯t stomach the thought of anything happening, to either of you.¡±


    Neither pony says anything, nor touches their food, for some time, seemingly processing events. Eventually, Ceridwen looks up. ¡°Well, that¡¯s one of you, anyways.¡± He mutters, sullenly.


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    Beira frowns. ¡°Whatever do you mean, dear? You know I¡¯m immensely proud of you.¡±


    Starhawk scrunches up his face, thinking back to the previous conversation with Evander. ¡°Father didn¡¯t seem to feel the same. He was upset that we didn¡¯t make any matches at the promenade.¡± He explains, trying to keep the venom from his voice.


    ¡°Oh, honey...¡± Beira says slowly, her brow curled in an expression of sympathy, as she reaches over to take his hoof in her own. ¡°You know how he is. As long as he¡¯s gone, we all at least have each other. We need to look after one another, right?¡± She smiles at him, as she reaches over to gently part his mane. ¡°You did a wonderful job, Hawky. Whenever you one day find a match, she¡¯ll be a lucky mare indeed to have such a dashing and gallant young stallion.¡±


    Ceridwen smiles faintly at the praise, but remains somber. There is another long moment of silence, before Ceridwen finally responds. ¡°...Why did you marry him?¡± He frowns, looking over at her. ¡°He¡¯s so different from you, he¡¯s so... Cold.¡±


    There is an awkward moment of silence at the question. Ceridwen knows that he isn¡¯t supposed to say such disrespectful things about his father, and he wagers that his mother is debating whether or not to scold him for it as she hesitates, but recent events have him feeling perhaps a little more bold than usual.


    Sighing, Beira relents, gaze becoming distant as she looks forwards. ¡°You didn¡¯t know him, back then. He was... Courteous, refined, dashing, handsome. The spitting image of the gentlecolt knight he portrayed.¡± For a moment, she smiles, thinking back, and giggles softly. ¡°In a way, you remind me of him, actually, though he was certainly not as intellectual.¡±


    Beira grows solemn once more, continuing. ¡°It was only... After you two were born, that he changed. He started becoming more distant, spending more time at work. Before I knew it, he¡¯d cut me out of his life. In retrospect, I realize he only wanted me for my family name and to produce heirs for him. A real social climber, no matter what he broke on the way.¡±


    The mare smiles wistfully at Ceridwen. ¡°But in the end, I don¡¯t regret a thing. Because that got me you and Seren, and I couldn¡¯t be more proud of either of you.¡± Sighing, she shakes her head. ¡°Still. Its a good lesson for you to learn, and doubly so Seren. She reminds me too much of myself when I was younger, and it frightens me. You deserve better than that.¡±


    Ceridwen frowns, sympathetically. It was the exact reason he hated formal events; Everypony with their own agenda, none saying what they mean. Trust was merely an illusion at the top of society. Staring down at his food, he struggles to work up an appetite. "I see." He ends up replying, simply.


    At some point, Beira places her hoof over his, drawing his gaze up to the deep blue eyes both he and his sister had inherited from her. "Just promise me you two will look after each-other, alright?"


    Ceridwen nods. "Of course. You know I''ll try." That''s all he can truly be sure of, and he wouldn''t vow things he wasn¡¯t certain he could keep.


    Beira leans back in her chair, still processing the conversation. "Well... For now, you ought to eat. We can worry about such things... later. Just try and relax."


    Ceridwen nods and, albeit with a strong sense of reluctance, stabs his fork into his food.


    <hr>


    Seren had been on her balcony for hours.


    Ceridwen had first seen her standing there shortly after lunch. Not doing anything, just... sitting there. He''d caught sight of her when he''d entered the observatory, due to its fantastic view of the other tower that jutted up from the palace. But, she''d asked him to give her some time to herself, so he did so.


    But when he was on his way to his bedroom that night, she was still there. Staring off into the sky, like his sister had been replaced with a statue. He tried to just brush past it, go to bed and try to sleep, but he found the thought was bugging him. Eventually, he went and checked again, and surely enough, there she was, only dimly visible silhouetted against a starlit sky, night-toned coat blending into the darkness beyond. The nights were dark, almost pitch black, ever since the moon had vanished; he barely remembers what they used to look like, with how young he''d been at the time. At least the lesser amount of light in the sky made the stars more visible.


    Ceridwen stands there, gazing out the window towards his sister''s repose for a long moment, before reluctantly sighing and taking flight. He had to make sure she was okay.


    His sister doesn¡¯t react as he lands on the platform some ways away from her. ¡°Seren?¡± Ceridwen Starhawk starts, uncertainly. ¡°Are you alright? It¡¯s late, you should really get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember what happened yesterday, after the incident?¡± The response from Seren came without any apparent relevance to what Ceridwen had asked, causing the pegasus to frown.


    ¡°What?¡± Ceridwen scratches his head in confusion. ¡°Seren, what''s bothering you?¡± Frowning, the midnight blue pegasus sits down beside his sister. Was she angry at him for not pushing her away more when she¡¯d been drugged..?


    Seren takes a deep breath and huffs it out, setting her jaw fiercely. ¡° ¡®This fiasco could have had dire ramifications for our family if word had gotten out.¡¯ That¡¯s what he said. I might not have been in my most fit mindset, but I was still right there, I heard the whole conversation. And he had the audacity to say that, right. In front of me.¡± She snarls, suddenly standing bolt upright and rounding on Ceridwen furiously. ¡°He¡¯s never been around! He¡¯s always on one of his damn political missions. And when somepony tries to... To... Rape me...¡± Seren almost gags as she says that, choking up at the thought before abruptly turning back on her heel towards the night sky again. ¡°That¡¯s all he has to say. That it would be bad if word got out. Nopony wants ¡®used goods¡¯, after all, right?¡±


    Ceridwen recoils, unsure what to say. ¡°S-Seren... You know he¡¯s never exactly been-¡±


    ¡°I know! I know exactly what he is!¡± Seren cuts Ceridwen off. ¡°I¡¯ve always known. I guess I just... Wanted to believe otherwise...¡± The mare stares down at the ground, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, but her expression is not one of sorrow but cold, implacable resolve. ¡°Well. I¡¯m not going to just sit here and take it. I refuse to just be a pawn in his stupid heavensdamned politics and intrigue.¡± Shaking her head furiously, Seren stomps a hoof down. ¡°I¡¯m going to make my own future, father be damned.¡±


    Ceridwen steps back, unsure what to say. He wants to comfort her, to make her feel better, yet he can''t do so without lying. She is, ultimately, right; he feels the same way. Maybe all he can offer is solidarity. So, he eventually nods. "I''m sorry. But, you still have me, and Mom, and Saoirse too. We''ll be right there with you." He tries to offer, reassuringly.


    But it doesn''t seem to quite have the desired effect. For some reason Ceridwen can''t understand, Seren just winces and looks away. "It''s... Fine, Ceridwen." She responds in a cold tone that sounds painfully similar to the one his father usually used. "Don''t worry about it. Just... Go and get some sleep. I''ll be here."


    Ceridwen instinctively reaches out, a pang of loneliness hitting his heart at that reaction. Why was she cutting him off like that? But... She''d had a difficult day. He understood that. So, with more than a hint of reluctance, he turns around. "Alright, Seren. Just... Take care, okay?" The only response he gets is a ''mhm'' sound, as she sits there and stares up towards the stars. Unsurely, Ceridwen lifts off, and soars back down to the nearest entrance to the palace proper.

 Gifts

    <div>


    ¡°¡¯Ay, quit yer bickerin¡¯! Ah think ¡®e¡¯s coming to!¡± That voice, hazy and distant, is the first thing Moonshadow hears upon regaining consciousness, his world slowly turning from black to blurry and then to clear images.


    Three ponies are staring down at him; The angry face of the oldest stallion, the sky blue mare who had spoken up in his defense, and a bright red filly with a forest green mane about his age, currently hovering over him.


    Wordlessly, Moonshadow instinctively withdraws away from the group, glancing between them all fearfully.


    ¡°Ah, now look whatcha did! Ya have the poor thing scared silly.¡± The azure mare remarks, lightly slugging the stallion on the shoulder.


    ¡°Ahm just tryna make sure yer both safe.¡± The oldest one grimaces. ¡°He was up t¡¯no good, prowlin¡¯ through the barn lik¡¯ that.¡±


    Moonshadow glances around, wondering if he could escape while they were distracted, but instead he is met with the cheery face of the filly staring directly at him.


    ¡°Hay! Ahm Aria, Aria Everbloom Rhodi. Issa pleasure to meetcha. Dun mind Torrent, ¡®e¡¯s always a bit cranky around strangers.¡± The filly offers a hoof, smiling reassuringly. ¡°Was¡¯ yer name?¡±


    ¡°M-Moonshadow.¡± He stammers out, unsurely. The filly and orange mare both look at eachother, raising a brow.


    ¡°Thassa... Intristin name.¡± Everbloom remarks, unsurely. It sounded more like some high-falutin nobles name than something a Hyperaustralan would have, not to mention that at his age there was no way the moon had still been around when he¡¯d chosen it. ¡°But was yer first name?¡± She asks; the compound word was obviously a chosen name, as was tradition.


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t have one. I wasn¡¯t given a name.¡± Moonshadow retorts unsurely. The countryponies around him all exchange knowing glances.


    ¡°Ya see Torri? He¡¯s jus¡¯ a poor down on ¡®is luck orphan. Give tha colt some slack.¡± The azure mare bumps into the stallion, who glares over at Moonshadow.


    ¡°Fine. But ifn I catch ¡®im around ¡®ere again ah won¡¯t be so gentl.¡± He relents. ¡°Now scram.¡±


    Moonshadow was more than willing to take that as his cue to leave and seek other pastures, but as he struggles up to his hooves, his legs shake and give out from under him again, a thunderous groan of hunger coming from his emaciated stomach. The last winter had been particularly harsh; would he even make it to the next farmstead over where he could try again to steal food?


    ¡°Now wait jus¡¯ a minute!¡± Everbloom shouts. ¡°¡¯E¡¯s jus¡¯ about mah age, an¡¯ e¡¯s jus like me, never knowing ¡®is parents. This is where ah would be if ah didn¡¯ ¡®ave you two!¡± She stomps a hoof down, looking bold as her two older siblings look surprised at the outburst. ¡°Well, it¡¯s mah birthday today, an¡¯ I say ¡®e can stay!¡± Without even waiting for confirmation, Everbloom takes Moonshadow¡¯s hoof in her own. ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯re gonna git ya somethin ta eat!¡± She announces, before marching off towards the dome-shaped structure behind the barn.


    Moonshadow in his current state, barely able to wobble up to his legs, wouldn¡¯t be in a position to resist her dragging him around even if he had wanted to. ...To eat? Those words were just about the only thing that penetrated the haze of hunger. Yes... Eat... Food.


    Torrent was glaring at the newcomer still, looking decidedly unhappy with this turn of events though he tolerates his sister¡¯s wishes. Sunshine, on the other hoof, is ecstatic, bouncing along after the two foals. ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve really grown up, lil¡¯ sis! Ahm so proud of ya!¡± She beams, kicking open the door to the silo and revealing the families storage of food.


    ¡°Are ya really sur¡¯ you wanna show some stranger wher¡¯ we keep our food? Yer practically beggin¡¯ ¡®im to steal it.¡± Torrent protests from behind them.


    Sunshine looks back, frowning. ¡°Is not stealin¡¯ when it¡¯s freely given, Torri. We ¡®ave enough to spare.¡±


    Torrent frowns, but seeing he was outvoted, shakes his head. ¡°Ah, fine, ¡®ave it your way. But ah¡¯ll be watchin¡¯ ¡®im!¡±


    <hr>


    A series of introductions-some friendly and some less so-later, all four ponies, including a decidedly uncomfortable looking Moonshadow and suspicious Torrent, gather around the families dining room table.


    ¡°Now, ah believe it¡¯s time fer presents?¡± Sunshine asks Torrent pointedly. ¡°Ya did get them from the barn, didntcha?¡± She asks, raising a brow.


    ¡°...Nope.¡± He admits at some length. ¡°Ah was a little distracted.¡± He shoots a glare at Moonshadow, who noticeably wilts in place. As hungry as he is, it''s difficult to eat the bowl of oats that had been given to him with that tall, athletic looking bicorn leering over him across the table.


    Sunshine giggles. ¡°Ah, that about figures. ¡®Old on, ah¡¯ll be back.¡± Humming to herself, she bounces off back towards the barn, leaving Moonshadow with just Torrent and Aria Everbloom.


    ¡°Sos... Where ¡®ave you been livin¡¯ ifn yer on yer own? An¡¯ wot happened t¡¯yer parents?¡± Everbloom asks at some length, looking over at Moonshadow sympathetically.


    Moonshadow blinks, in some degree of surprise. He wasn¡¯t used to being asked questions about himself, save perhaps when guards were trying to figure out what to do with him. ¡°Um.¡± He struggles to recall the right words, his ¡®upbringing¡¯ had not exactly blessed him with a stunning vocabulary. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know my parents. They left me before I can...¡± He squints, trying to think of the right word. ¡°Before my mind reach?¡± He follows up, unsurely. That didn¡¯t sound quite right, but it was the best he could manage.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    He can¡¯t help but notice a peculiar reaction from Torrent across from him; a faint smile, almost imperceptible, a mild sense of approval in his glance.


    ¡°You never knew yer parents either, huh?¡± Everbloom adds sympathetically. ¡°Mah ma an¡¯ pa died when ah was jus¡¯ a filly. But ah at leas¡¯ had Torri and Sunny.¡± She offers him an encouraging smile. ¡°Ah know mah bro can come on a bit strong, but ah promis e¡¯s as sweet as they come when ya get to know ¡®im.¡±


    Moonshadow glances back and forth between the two ponies. Somehow, he can¡¯t help but doubt Everbloom¡¯s claims. But they at least put him at ease enough to try eating; without taking his eyes off of Torrent, he slowly dips his head forwards and munches on a mouthful of oats. Oh, that was a delight... Even cardboard would have tasted like the finest delicacy to him right then.


    While he was eating, Sunshine returned to the room, prancing along to the table with a stack of boxes and bags somehow precariously balanced upon her back, which she promptly bounces onto the table with a subtle flick of her entire body. ¡°Aaaand ¡®ere we are! Oooh, ah hope ya like it!¡± Sunshine squeals out, sitting down at the table and staring over at Everbloom with rapt attention, a mile-wide smile plastered firmly to her face.


    Moonshadow eyes the stack of presents unsurely, recognizing the goods he''d dug through earlier in his quest for sustenance. And somehow he''d ended up here, sitting in on some fillies birthday celebrations. He was only very dimly aware that such things even existed. Here were ponies who had things to look forward to other than just their next meals; the colt can''t help but feel a pang of ugly jealousy through his heart.


    Everbloom meanwhile lifts up the bag with her first present, and digs into it to retrieve a pair of vividly dyed, bright orange ribbons. The filly holds them up, blinking at them in confusion. "Um... Wot are these for?" She asks, stumped. In a blur of movement, Sunshine blitzes behind her and at breakneck speed, ties the ribbons into knots around the fillies hair, leaving it in two short pigtails.


    "Ah know ya like doin'' up yer hair all fancy-like, an'' I thought some bow ties would make it look real purty! What''n do y''all think?" She exclaims, hopefully and maybe a little nervously.


    Everbloom scurries over in a rush to find someplace to view her own reflection, settling on one of the few pieces of nice dishware the family had; an aluminium coated plate polished to resemble silver. "Aw, Ah love ''em! They look so cute!" The filly squeals, lifting her pigtails experimentally before turning to her older sister and nodding her head. "You''ll ''ave to show me how ya tie ''em though, unless y''all wanna tie ''em for me every morning." The filly giggles in amusement as Sunshine ruffles her mane.


    Roisin Sunshine beams in response. "Ahm glad ya like ''em, lil sis! Go on, open yer next present!"


    Moonshadow watches the proceedings with an uncomfortable, distinct feeling of alienation, as he continues munching on the bowl of oats. He''d learned from plenty of times on the brink of starvation that overeating after a long famine would wreck his insides, so he eats slowly and carefully to give himself some time to process the food. As he does, he surreptitiously scoots his chair back, hoping the other ponies would simply forget he was there at all; not that that seems at all likely, with Torrent continuing to eye him suspiciously, not letting up one bit.


    So, under the watchful gaze of Torrent, Moonshadow sits there trying to restrain his unending appetite while Everbloom opens each of her gifts in turn; a new pair of saddlebags, a small bag of rock candy, even a pocket knife. Moonshadow stares enviously at the filly. Some ''orphan'', huh... She''s spoiled rotten just like the rest of them.


    It''s hard not to be bitter to the world, when the world has never given him anything.


    Such thoughts are interrupted when Aria Everbloom turns to Moonshadow, tilting her head. "Ah guess ya dun have anypony ta'' give ya gifts when its yer birthday, huh?" The filly frowns, pondering, before perking up. "Wait right ''ere, ah''ll be right back!" Hopping down from her seat, the young bicorn blitzes through the house and up the stairs in a red-and-green blur before whooshing right back into the room, carrying a bow.


    Only this time, it isn''t a hair bow but rather the kind used as a weapon, complete with a quiver full of arrows held in her mouth. Placing the weapon on the table, Everbloom presents it to Moonshadow. "Since y''don''t ''av anypony else, ah''ll giv ya this! Since yer all on yer own out there, ah think you''ll get more use out of it than me anyhow." Everbloom nods sagely.


    Torrent can''t help but scoff and look over at Everbloom incredulously. "Now look ''ere lil sis, ah understand yer tryin'' t''be nice an'' all, but ah can''t let you go an'' arm this ruffian in our own home!" His tone comes the closest to scolding that it had in the past week, though he mostly just sounds worried for his sisters safety. "Ah mean, jus'' look at... ''im..." He trails off as he looks over at Moonshadow, who is currently holding up the bow with wide, shocked eyes, tears collecting in the corners.


    "R-Really? For me? Y-You mean it?" Moonshadow asks, his voice sounding childlike even relative to his admittedly young age. Nopony has ever given me something like this before... Not ever.


    Aria blinks, not knowing how to respond, glancing back and forth between her two older siblings. She was just trying to be nice; she hadn''t expected this kind of reaction. "Y-yeah, is all yours." She states at some length.


    The hyperaustralan colt closes his eyes and squeezes the bow limbs in something approximating a hug, as if it were a dear loved one. "Thankyou... I promise to take good care of it." He utters solemnly, holding the cool wood against his cheek.


    Torrent and Sunshine just watch, momentarily overwhelmed, until Roisin Sunshine nudges her brother from the side.


    "Y''all were sayin''?" She asks, dryly. Torrent shakes his head.


    "...Alright, ah guess ''e can keep it." He gives in reluctantly. Protective of his family as he may be... Even the older bicorn can''t stand to be quite so harsh against such a young and destitute colt for long. Having made up his mind, the stallion stands up, and walks up to the hyperaustralan.


    Moonshadow looks up at him with fearful eyes. "I-it''s mine, it was a gift, you can''t have it back!" He utters, protectively holding the bow against his chest.


    "Ahm not takin'' it back, ya little hellion." Torrent states, dryly. "C''mon, y''look all tuckered out. Ah imagine yer gonna need some time t''put some weight on those poor bones of yers. Lessgo an'' see if we can''t find someplace y''all can sleep t''night."


    Moonshadow stares up at him in disbelief, a solitary tear leaking down the side of his face. Did he... mean it? He was going to let him stay the night? Not knowing what to say, Moonshadow breaks down in tears, and throws his hooves around Torrent''s chest as if he was a long-lost friend.


    "Woah, there, lil colt..." Torrent starts, surprised, blushing slightly as he looks back and forth between his two sisters, who promptly join in on the action.


    "Aw, Torri, yer such a softie underneath it all!" Sunshine giggles, hugging her older brother tightly. "Ah knew you''d come around!"


    "Yeah, yeah..." Torrent extricates himself from the mass of limbs. "C''mon, lessgo. Ah think we ¡®ave some extra blankets in the loft ''e can use..."

 Fears and Secrets

    <div>


    Seren stares at her opponent across the chamber from her, waiting for the signal, every muscle tensed and eyes narrowed.


    At the sound of a whistle, she feints forwards before bolting straight up into the air, leaping clean over the other knight''s immediate rush for her, twisting around in midair to telekinetically swing her blunted training spellblade behind her. The s-shaped, hiltless, double-sided blade whistles as it flies through the air, gripped firmly in Seren¡¯s magic.


    The other knight catches the blade between his wingblades, wrenching the spellblade free of Seren¡¯s telekinetic grip and twisting his body around just in time to see Seren tackling him full bodily, sending both of the ponies sprawling over the arena floor.


    Before he can recover, Seren pins him onto his back, taking advantage of his inhibition to lift her spellblade up once more and place it up to his throat. ¡°Match!¡± Instructor Silverthorn''s whistle calls out after him, and Seren steps back to allow her opponent to rise back to his feet again as he huffs in frustration.


    ¡°A skilled feint, but you rely too heavily upon deception.¡± Instructor Silverthorn calls out, as he strides over in front of Seren while the other knight stalks off to the sideline, grumbling. ¡°If your opponent were to call your bluff, that maneuver you just pulled would have left you entirely open.¡±


    Seren nods in response, standing fully at attention. ¡°What would you suggest, then?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll spar with me next. For this round, try to rely solely on the basics-no advanced maneuvers, nothing acrobatic. See if you can stop me in my tracks.¡± The instructor states. ¡°You should work on your raw reflexes and precision, you¡¯ve already shown yourself to be creative enough in your choice of tactics.¡±


    Seren nods once more, settling into a position across from her instructor. When he moves, she barely even sees it coming, barely deflecting the first uppercut from his hoofclaws with her spellblade before being forced to discard the weapon as he gets too close for her to focus on its position, both of her own vambraces raised to block a thrust from her opponents horn. She tries to backpedal and gain some ground, but he is already inside her guard, his other hoofclaw having slipped past her defenses while she was focused on his horn. Two talons lever themselves at her throat, and she sighs as she knows she¡¯s been beaten again, in only a couple of short seconds.


    Not that that is anything to be particularly ashamed of; Instructor Silverthorn is generally considered the most talented blademaster in Luddas. It wouldn¡¯t do to have any less as the personal instructor for the rulers of the duchy. As she disengages from her opponent, Seren¡¯s preparations for another bout are interrupted by a voice from the side.


    ¡°Sister?¡± The familiar voice of Ceridwen calls out as the door to the dueling arena opens. Seren winces in discomfort, but tries her best to hide her reaction.


    ¡°Yeah? What is it?¡± She wipes off the sweat on her brow and does her best to compose herself. She¡¯d been training nonstop since early that morning, and even holding herself upright now is making her muscles sore.


    Ceridwen shuffles in place. ¡°Um, well, Mom and I were wondering if you¡¯d like to join us for dinner today. We¡¯ve barely seen you since...¡± he trails off; both of them knew exactly what had set this off.


    Seren quirks her mouth in irritation, glancing back at her instructor. She is just about to tell Ceridwen to go eat without her, when Silverthorn nods his head. ¡°I think my pupil could use a rest, she¡¯s been working herself ragged. We can resume after lunch, madam Seren.¡±


    Seren groans. Well, looks like there isn¡¯t any getting out of it now. Averting her gaze from her brother, she sighs. ¡°Alright, I guess.¡± She is keenly aware of how that reaction affects her brother, can practically feel his forlorn aura from where she is standing, but it can¡¯t be helped.


    Shedding her equipment into a pile on the ground-some servant could clean it up, that wasn¡¯t for her to worry about-she reluctantly follows Ceridwen, averting her gaze from the other pony. There¡¯s an awkward air of silence that hangs in the air, and she can almost feel Ceridwen¡¯s concerned gaze burrowing into her skull as they trot down the halls.


    Eventually, her brother breaks the silence. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re doing alright, Seren? You¡¯ve been training almost nonstop. We¡¯ve barely even seen you the last few days.¡±


    Seren rolls her eyes. ¡°Is that any different from how you normally are?¡± She responds dryly. ¡°If mother didn¡¯t drag you away from your books I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯d spend your entire life in that observatory.¡±


    Ceridwen winces in response, looking down and away. ¡°Well¡­ Maybe that¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m worried about you.¡± He mumbles in a low tone. ¡°It¡¯s easier to stay sequestered away like that, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s healthy. I don¡¯t want you to become like me in that way.¡± There¡¯s a tone of vulnerability in his voice, that almost provokes Seren into just saying what¡¯s really on her mind. Almost, but not quite.


    Damnit, why do you have to make this so difficult, Hawky? She was just trying to distance herself, but here he had to be looking out for her and making it harder than ever to remain stoically separated. At least she can justify not responding to that statement by just entering the dining room and greeting her mother. Flinging open the doors to the dining room, she strides on in.


    Snowgleam¡¯s face noticeably brightens upon the view of her daughter. ¡°Oh Seren, I¡¯m so glad you could join us today. How is your training going?¡± She asks, politely.


    Seren allows herself the smallest of smiles. This was easier to deal with; simple small talk. She crosses the room to sit down; not directly next to her mother, but not across the table either, a healthy two seats away. Ceridwen, perhaps inevitably, chooses to sit in between the two mares. ¡°I believe I am making good progress.¡± She professes, rubbing her sore muscles. ¡°But I suppose some rest is necessary between bouts. Mhm, I hope that we have fish in storage, I think I¡¯m going to need the protein.¡±


    Beira gives her daughter a slight, cordial smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure I can arrange that. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± The mare stands and heads to the door leading to the kitchens to make the request.


    Seren slumps against the table, hoping that Ceridwen would leave them in silence while they wait. Surprisingly, she gets her wish; when her eyes flicker up to view the pegasus, she sees him staring dismally at his plate below him. Another pang in her heart, and she looks away.


    He¡¯ll get over it. It¡¯s better this way. Seren tells herself, uncertainly, closing her eyes tightly. At some length their mother returns; she noticeably hesitates upon seeing the somber mood of the two ponies, before trying to project the most pleasant smile she has in her arsenal to lighten the mood. ¡°Well, the chefs have dinner on the grill! It¡¯ll be ready in no time. So, why don¡¯t you two tell me how your classes are going?¡±


    Seren looks at Ceridwen with mild surprise. ¡°You¡¯re taking classes too? Whatever for?¡± He¡¯d exceeded his tutors in academics years ago, so there isn¡¯t much in the way of classes that would actually apply.


    Ceridwen makes a face; though Seren notices a slight smile hiding underneath it, perhaps just happy that his sister was finally engaging in conversation with him. ¡°Father¡¯s had me taking etiquette classes for the last couple weeks, ever since the promenade.¡± He explains, the disgust in his tone making it obvious just what he thought about these classes. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ Um, I mean, it¡¯s going alright. I¡¯m doing my best.¡± He offers, halfheartedly.


    Oh boy, I don¡¯t envy his tutor. Seren thinks to herself. Ceridwen Starhawk had always found such things worse than irritable. That he was trying at all was probably mostly a demonstration of how hard Father had been pushing him.


    ¡°Oh, that reminds me!¡± Beira Snowgleam pipes up. ¡°We¡¯ve received correspondence from the Iutru family. It¡¯s nothing official yet, but it seems they have some interest in you. It seems you made a good impression on their daughter during the Promenade.¡± Snowgleam explains. ¡°Victoria Silvergleam, I believe her name was. Your father already sent word that he approves of the potential match. Not surprising, since she¡¯s the second child of the Iutru dynasty. A real powerhouse, that one, he probably thinks they¡¯d make a good counterbalance to the Powells influence in the region.¡±


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Ceridwen raises a brow. That seems¡­ odd, considering how he¡¯d left in such a hurry. They¡¯re probably lying through their teeth, and just think it would make a good political match. Actual chemistry didn¡¯t matter much to that, after all.  ¡°That''s good, I guess.¡± he replies noncommittally. He¡¯d have to get married sooner or later, and he supposes the sooner he did the sooner his father would get off his back about it.


    ¡°Evander will be increasing the pressure on you, too, Seren.¡± Snowgleam states, looking over at Seren with a concerned expression. ¡°You may want to look into that, at least see if you can get married on your own terms rather than his.¡±


    Seren shrugs. In a way, it didn¡¯t sound so terrible-it might help with the other problem she is having. But soon enough, she wouldn¡¯t need to worry about it anymore, if she had her way about it. ¡°Just try and keep him off my back a little longer. I¡¯ll take care of things, don¡¯t you worry.¡± She replies flippantly.


    Her mother frowns, staring at her for a long moment. ¡°If you say so.¡± She eventually replies. Just in time, too, as the doors open and a servant pony carts in a trio of dishes. ¡°Ah! Excellent. Dinner is served!¡±


    Seren sighs with relief as the platter of food is placed down before her. She would rather not be here but, if she was going to be stuck, it would be best for her to re-energize herself with fresh nutrients. After all, how else was she going to build any muscle? Besides of which, cramming her face full of food is an excuse to not have to talk. Mhm, Salmon.


    ¡°It seems you¡¯ve worked up quite the appetite.¡± Snowgleam smiles softly towards Seren. ¡°You must really be hard at work in there. How goes your training, Seren?¡± She asks, politely, over the dim sound of silverware scraping against ceramic.


    Pausing her dinner for just a moment to respond, Seren flips her mane back. ¡°It¡¯s going alright. I still haven¡¯t come close to beating Silverthorn, so not well enough.¡± Her tone is adamant, harsh, somewhat telling of how impatient she is to get back to it.


    ¡°I mean, you can¡¯t expect to defeat him that easily, he is the premier bladespony in Luddas¡­¡± Ceridwen points out.


    Seren levers a pointed gaze at him. ¡°And? Would you just accept it if one of your designs performed worse than somepony else''s model in the same weight class?¡±


    Ceridwen rubs the back of his head, sheepishly. ¡°Well, no, but¡­¡±


    ¡°There you go.¡± Seren states, firmly, taking another bite. ¡°I won¡¯t be satisfied till I win.¡±


    Snowgleam and Ceridwen both give her concerned looks while she continues eating, doing her best to ignore them. ¡°Honey, is this because of what happened at the promenade?¡± Snowgleam gently prods after some time, inciting Seren to wince and look away. ¡°You know you¡¯re safe here, right? We won¡¯t let anything happen to you, especially not after last time. No matter what-¡±


    She is cut off by Seren loudly clearing her throat. ¡°I have my own reasons. Now, thank you for the meal, but I really must be going.¡± She announces, taking one final bite, hopping from her seat, and stalking off back towards where she came from.


    Ceridwen and Snowgleam both watch her, eyes wide with worry, as she crosses around the corner. ¡°Seren¡­¡± Starhawk mumbles, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. ¡°I¡­ I guess I should get going, too. I have¡­ Um¡­ A lot of work to get to.¡± Without any more specificity, he clambers from his seat, gaze lowered to the ground as he makes his way towards the observatory. Somehow, he feels he¡¯ll be spending a lot of time there in the near future, even moreso than usual.


    Soon enough, the feast hall, built for so many ponies to share, is left alone to just Beira Snowgleam, staring listlessly across the empty table. And so, nopony is there to hear the mournful whimper she lets out as she leans back into the plush chair, feeling as alone as ever.


    <hr />


    Despite her intentions, Seren does not not make it back to the training ground. Instead, on her way she is intercepted by Saoirse Starshot, the servant looking more than a little disgruntled as she salutes the aristocrat with forced politeness. ¡°Seren Ardorwynn, the Lord Duke requests your presence immediately.¡± She reports, bowing her head.


    Seren raises a brow, taken aback. This was not typical behavior for Saoirse at all; was she concerned somepony was watching them? Didn¡¯t she seem¡­ Nervous? ¡°The lord duke, hrm?¡± Seren scoffs at the notion. It seemed at least a more fair title than referring to that uncaring dastard as her ¡®father¡¯. Turning towards the parlor, Seren hangs her head and sighs. ¡°Well, guess there¡¯s no getting out of it. Best not keep him waiting or he¡¯ll just be even more of a pain.¡± With that grumbling, she turns on her heel and makes her way for Evander¡¯s office.


    Just what does he want? Seren ponders, steeling herself and flitting through the possibilities in her mind. She hadn¡¯t seen him since the night of the promenade. If he dared say anything about that, it might be difficult to keep her cool. Patience, patience. You just need to keep it together a little longer. Seren tells herself. Soon enough you¡¯ll be assigned your own governorship and you can get away from all of this.


    Striding up to the broad double doors to the office, Seren takes a deep breath as the guards on duty salute her. ¡°Go on in, his Excellency is waiting for you inside.¡± The senior of the two states. Seren barely acknowledges the duo¡¯s presence as she pushes open the doors and steps inside the room.


    It had been some time since she¡¯d been in here, since it was rare that her father invited her. It''s a roughly octagonal room, with fine wooden dressers containing all manner of baubles, shows of wealth, and artifacts that likely were never touched. Seren¡¯s eyes merely flit over the furnishings before looking front and center. There, silhouetted against the broad triple archway window behind him, is the duke himself, sitting at his hefty oak desk, quill in hoof and stern expression upon his face. ¡°Good. You¡¯re here.¡± Evander pushes the parchment on his table off to the side and leans forward, talons clasped before him.


    Seren nods briefly, carefully keeping her emotions in check. It wouldn¡¯t do any good to let Evander know how she felt. ¡°Of course, father. What is it that you need?¡±


    Evander¡¯s beak twitches in an expression that almost resembles approval or mirth. ¡°Hmph, straight to the point. Good. There is a rather delicate matter which I cannot entrust to anypony outside of the family. It is a matter of uptmost secrecy.¡± Evander starts explaining, glancing this way and that surreptitiously as if worried somepony was eavesdropping. In a low tone, he continues. ¡°And worse, I am not able to take care of it myself, as I have a pre-existing arrangement in the north. Between you and Ceridwen, I believe you are most suited to this task, given your more gregarious nature and skill at arms. Besides of which, Ceridwen still has classes to attend.¡±


    Seren¡¯s curiosity is piqued, and she tilts her head, carefully watching Evander for any hint of what he was getting at. ¡°That serious, hrm? And what is this matter?¡±


    ¡°A band of ruffians from Hyperaustralis has resettled very near the border between us and the Powells. Normally that wouldn¡¯t be such an issue, but the region has a poorly defined border and is rather rural. If the Powells catch wind of the situation, they could easily use the presence of their own serfs in the region to claim that the territory has always been theirs, and we would have little way to disprove that notion. But we cannot afford to lose it, as it is an area of key strategic importance.¡± Evander explains. ¡°They must be excised, quickly and quietly.¡±


    Seren raises a brow in suspicion.  ''key strategic importance''? Wasn''t that description... Oddly vague? Could it be some manner of trap..? No, surely the duke still needed her to further his lineage. Carefully, Seren responds. "And exactly what is this location? Why is it so important?"


    Evander stares unblinking at Seren. ¡°I cannot tell you that, I am afraid. Just know that it is of vital importance not only to our family, but our nation, that this is taken care of as soon as possible.¡±


    I¡¯m not going to get any answers from him. Seren nods her head. ¡°Very well.¡± I¡¯ll find an explanation one way or another. ¡°And how am I to find this location, if you can¡¯t tell me what it is?¡±


    Evander extends one of his forelimbs, clutching a scroll tightly in his talons. "This map should lead you there. There should be a stone tower in the vicinity." Despite the simplicity of that statement, Seren Ardorwynn hears... a slight hesitation in her the duke¡¯s voice at the word ''tower''. Just what is going on here?


    Opening the map, Seren furrows her brow. It is a map of the local area, with a simple mark designating her destination. It is, as far as she can tell, in an entirely arbitrary location in the wilderness, with the exception that it is placed precisely on the boundary of what is considered Luddan territory. Looking up again, she is met with Evander¡¯s cold gaze.


    ¡°Whatever you do, do not permit anypony else to glimpse that map. You have been warned.¡± Evander¡¯s voice takes on a hard edge, threatening.


    It¡¯s all Seren can do not to growl or sneer in response, but she has to keep her feelings under wraps until it is time to strike out on her own. So all she says is simply, ¡°Of course, father.¡±


    Evander leans back in his seat, eyes drifting up towards the wall as if looking for something there. ¡°You should leave at first light. That will be all. Dismissed.¡±

 The Escapist

    <div>


    Saoirse Starshot waits until Seren rounds the corner towards the duke¡¯s chambers, before bolting as quickly and quietly as she can for the outer wall of the palace. This was the best opportunity she would get; Several guards were off duty, having worked double shifts during the promenade and now getting their much earned rest, and two of the local aristocrats were having a meeting. If she was going to escape, now would be the time.


    The servants first stop is Ceridwen¡¯s observatory. She wouldn¡¯t have much time; the pegasus would be returning from dinner shortly. But she knew exactly where to find what she was looking for, having served as the aristocratic inventor''s servant for so long. Swiping a hooffull of supplies, Saoirse vanishes back into the palace corridors even as she hears the hoofsteps of Ceridwen down the hallway.


    ¡°Woah, and where are you going in such a hurry?¡± One of the guards asks as Saoirse almost stumbles into them.


    ¡°S-sorry, sir!¡± She blusters quickly. It felt wrong to be this compliant and lenient, but anything that made her less suspicious right now was worthwhile. ¡°I was asked by the lord duke to take these and wash them post haste!¡± Saoirse reports, trusting the guard would be unable to verify the truth of the statement with the duke preoccupied with Seren.


    The guard shrugs. ¡°Very well, off you go.¡±


    Saoirse waits until her back is facing the guard before allowing herself a sly grin on her wolflike face. The laundry was on the edge of the palace in a sector less often visited by guardsponies, it was the perfect excuse.


    Exiting the palace quickly and quietly, she makes her way towards the upper terrace. This section was less guarded, as a sheer cliff face was seen as providing protection enough. Oh, there are still a couple of watchtowers, their nocturnal Deep Pony guards quite capable of seeing in the dark and unafflicted by the tiredness that a diurnal pony race would suffer from, but those are largely facing the cliff walls in case somepony were to try to scale them. From the inside, it''s smooth sailing.


    Looks like the coast is clear. Clenching her jaw with determination, the ivory blur of a pony darts across the open of the courtyard, diving into the bush there before peaking out again. Sneaking right by the guards is out of the question, and scaling the cliffs would be dangerous in the extreme¡­ But there are likely better methods.


    Flicking one of the pieces of arcane chalk from her bag, the servant hastily draws an outline of a circle on the ground. A lowborn blank like herself might not have a horn or wings to perform magic with, but she still has her ways; she has to hurry, draw in the relevant symbols, before somepony catches her. Somepony like¡­


    The door from behind her, the entrance to the courtyard, swings open, and Starshot¡¯s hairs stand up on her withers. Uh-oh. A glance backwards is all it takes to know the jig is up, the quite familiar raptorial eyes of one Ceridwen Starhawk Cadenza fixed directly upon her as the gryph pegasus trots silently across the courtyard, talons and soft feathers making no sound as he moves.


    Glancing back, Starshot quickly makes up her mind that resisting is a bad idea; the guards are just behind them, and if she makes a commotion she would have to deal with them instead of Ceridwen. So instead, with a severely disgruntled expression on her face, she allows the gryph pegasus to drag her all the way back to his room.


    Now, finally, he rounds on the unfortunate servant, sighing heavily. ¡°Saoirse Starshot. Care to explain yourself?¡±


    Starshot grumbles, rubbing her sore hoof, glaring up at the aristocratic pony indignantly. ¡°You already know what I was doing, why bother asking?¡±


    Ceridwen just sighs heavily, raising one claw to his head. ¡°I know you were trying to make a run for it again, I¡¯m more interested in knowing why you needed half our alchemical supplies for it.¡±


    Starshot¡¯s gaze darts for the window, as if pondering her chances of spontaneously developing wings to fly out of there, despite knowing it''s a three story drop that wouldn¡¯t even take her past the courtyard. Reluctantly, she paws at the ground. ¡°I was going to attempt the translocation spell and swap places with one of the trees further in the forest¡­ Then I¡¯d have a lead and nopony would be able to catch me.¡± She eventually admits.


    Ceridwen just stares at her aghast. ¡°Starshot, you¡¯ve never tested that spell on a live subject before, you could have killed yourself! Do you ever think about the consequences before trying out one of your harebrained schemes?¡± That wasn¡¯t even to mention that a blank so much as trying to cast spells in the first place is a capital offense. Such things are the province of the aristocracy, after all.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Starshot glares over at him indignantly. ¡°You could just let me go, then you wouldn¡¯t have to worry about it anymore!¡±


    Ceridwen breathes out a huff of hot air. ¡°And you think I wouldn¡¯t worry about you out there in the world? Do you know what they¡¯d do if they caught you? I¡¯m just trying to keep your neck out of a noose!¡± The angry look in the aristocrats'' eyes fades, replaced with a somber look of worry. ¡°Please. I¡¯m just trying to make sure nothing bad happens to you.¡±


    Starshot grits her teeth. She hated that look; that look of pity that she got from him so often, for as long as she could remember. Every other aristocrat just looks down on her, pretends like she isn''t there. But the twins, they always had to act like they care. Preposterous. Looking away, Starshot shakes her head. ¡°What would you know? You¡¯re free to come and go whenever you please. How did you find me, anyways?¡±


    Ceridwen gives Starshot a blank look as though the answer is painfully obvious, before pointing with one talon at the saddlebags still with her. ¡°It''s pretty obvious when two saddlebags worth of food are missing from the kitchens that you¡¯re going to try and make a run for it again.¡±


    Starshot sulks in place. Note to self; take the pigs feed next time, instead. It''s less than palatable, but she could live off of it; she knew that she could, because she¡¯d had to several times, when her food privileges were taken away for a week or two from her antics. And that was after Seren had talked her father into being merciful; In all likelihood, she¡¯d have been outright imprisoned, or even banished, by now, otherwise.


    The lattermost did sound like an ok change of pace, to be fair. Sometimes, Starshot is tempted to try and incite that penalty purposefully. But when it comes down to it, Ceridwen is right; she didn¡¯t have the skills needed to survive on her own in the wilderness, so for any attempt at escape she would certainly need something to barter for enough supplies to get her footing. Once she did that, she could¡­ Find work as a scribe, maybe? She didn¡¯t know, just something away from here.


    Ceridwen just stares for a moment, eventually shaking his head. ¡°You¡¯ll have to stay here for the night. If anypony saw me escorting you back to your quarters, they¡¯ll know you tried to make a run for it again, and I doubt I could keep you in Father¡¯s good graces this time. Certainly not now.¡± The gryph scowls, and Saoirse finds herself tilting her head, wondering what he meant by that. ¡°Come on, there''s plenty of room for you. I¡¯ll take you back to your chamber in the morning before I go to my classes, as long as it''s daylight I can just tell them I need your help unclogging a toilet or something.¡±


    Starshot can¡¯t help but blush at the casual request. The luxurious bed here with its deep purple silk sheets and velvet blankets are a thousand times more comfortable than the straw mattress she settled for in her own chambers. And yet, accepting that luxury felt too much like surrendering, so she simply shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep on the floor.¡±


    Ceridwen sighs and groans like he has a headache. ¡°Fine. Whatever. There¡¯s room for three ponies here, I¡¯m pretty sure you and I would fit just fine, but if you want to be like that, just¡­¡± There is an aggrieved tone in his voice as he cuts himself off suddenly, throwing himself into the bed with a surprising degree of force.


    Starshot blinks up at him, surprised. It wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d been caught like this, but she didn¡¯t remember Ceridwen acting like this before. She would have asked what was the matter, but¡­ Given the circumstances, it didn''t seem appropriate. Surveying Ceridwen¡¯s aggravated demeanor, she shy¡¯s away.


    You¡¯re being ungrateful. A voice in the back of her head tells her. She knew that; really, she did. If anypony else had found her she¡¯d be locked up overnight at best, dead at worst. But Ceridwen is still one of them, the nobles who dictated everything in her life. She can¡¯t just forgive that.


    Even so, she can feel the eyes of the gryph boring into the back of her skull as she tries to shut it out and ignore it. Eventually, the intensity gives in, and she hears the all-too-familiar sound of Ceridwen sighing heavily.


    ¡°First Seren, now you. Why do you keep pulling away from me?¡± There¡¯s an undercurrent of pain in his voice that makes Starshot cringe, shoving her face down into the pillows as if she could ignore the world around. ¡°You used to trust me with these things. Don¡¯t you remember sneaking cookies from the kitchen together, or our secret reading lessons at night? What changed?¡±


    Although she wants to just shut it out, ignore the question, Starshot finds the answer drawn forth despite her intentions. ¡°You became a pegasus, and I didn¡¯t. It¡¯s as simple as that.¡± She can¡¯t keep the note of bitterness out of her voice.


    Ceridwen just stares for a long moment, before sighing and turning back over.  ¡°I can¡¯t change the way the world works, Saoirse. But I promise once I¡¯m no longer under father¡¯s thumb, I¡¯ll take you with me and set you free. Please, just try to hold on until then.¡± Even making that promise is hard, knowing it would mean he¡¯d never see the filly he¡¯d grown up alongside again. But if that is what Starshot wants¡­


    There is no response. After a long moment of waiting, Starhawk sighs, shaking his head, and pulls the blankets up over his shoulder. ¡°Sleep well, Starshot.¡±


    ¡­You too. Despite herself, Starshot¡¯s comment remains restrained deep inside her mind, as she tightens the covers over her body and shuts her eyes tightly. One day she would be free. One day¡­

 In Dreams

    Ever since the moon''s disappearance in the night skies over the Iweriu confederation eight years ago, dreams had become uncommon for its inhabitants. Without the silent guardian watching over the night, the darkness was long, cold, and dangerous for all.


    But perhaps something was different, that particular night, as a streaking star of silver arcs far above the sleeping ponies. Because rather than the deep, dreamless slumber that most were accustomed to, ponies- thousand, millions even- found themselves lost in the otherworld of their unconscious minds.


    Even Saoirse Starshot, so thoroughly entangled within the velvety embrace of an unusually comfortable rest, finds herself drawn into a world of unwitting fantasy.


    <hr />


    The clatter of hooves echoing on stone resounds through the narrow alleyways as Saoirse gallops across the rough cobblestone, a simultaneous feeling of dread and sheer exhilaration bursting through her veins. She can hear her pursuers; attack dogs barking, whistles sounding, engines rumbling.


    There was no time to look back, now. It was do or die for her, as she swerves hard into another alleyway. She might not be able to outrun everything pursuing her, but if she could just get lost in the city¡­


    She¡¯d seen the city so very many times, and yet only a couple times been able to step hoof in it. And now it was hers for the rest of her life¡­ However short that life might end up being.


    Despite the circumstance, despite the pounding in her heart or the racing of her breath, Saoirse finds herself grinning as she gallops between the dingy buildings. Come what may, live or die, she was a free mare now.


    A shout echoes from behind her, and she spares a mere glance back to see a guardspony who had just turned the corner. They¡¯ve found me! That thought alone is enough to push herself even more, her body straining to the uttermost limits of its abilities, desperately trying to keep moving, all but blind to the aching limbs and burning in her lungs.


    Another swerve into an alley¡­ And with a sinking feeling, Saoirse knows it''s over now. It''s a dead end, a sheer drop off a cliff face the only route open to her. Somehow, diving through that labyrinthian tangle of backstreets and corridors had led her here, to the edge of the palace district, overlooking the city below.


    Barking. There was barking behind her; the dogs were hot on her hooves, she was out of time. She didn¡¯t slow down, even knowing that certain death was all that awaited. A thundercrack and bullet whizzing past her wiped any doubt in her mind. If death was to be hers, she would die free. She would die on her own terms, not theirs.


    Time seemed to hang still as she bounded onto the rocky outcropping. She was moving far too fast to even try to move around now, even should she have the intention to do so. She hears the whistle of guards, calling the dogs to stop, not wanting them to plummet to their deaths along with her.


    Her hindlimbs meet the very rim of the stone, and with one last herculean surge of strength, she leaps forwards, closing her eyes as she feels the wind in her fur. She savors it, savors every feeling before she could plummet to her death. The way her stomach flips in her abdomen, the wind caught in her fur.


    The feelings of fast-approaching death. The feelings of freedom.


    The moment hangs in the air for what seems like an eternity, until finally, Saoirse realizes the dreaded impact wasn¡¯t coming. Has she already died? Was this¡­


    The wind was still in her fur. If anything it was stronger. She can hear gasps of amazement, of shock, from the guards. She¡¯s not dead. Slowly, unsurely, she opens her eyes, only to feel a gasp of her own echo out.


    Wings-broad, pearl white wings-stretch far in either direction. Tears begin collecting in her eyes, as she looks down and sees the city passing below her as she soars across the heavens. She didn¡¯t know how, or why, but here she was¡­ A pegasus.


    Freedom¡­ This is true freedom. The kind not even the commonfolk below her had. Freedom not just from her aristocratic masters, but from the very constraints of gravity. She could go anywhere, do anything. A shouting whoop of victory, a spiral turn, and Saoirse shot off into the distance, far away from where anypony could catch her.


    She was free.


    <hr />


    ¡°Can you reach it?¡± one of the fillies holding Ceridwen up asks, as the colt pokes the tip of his tongue from his mouth as he strains to reach the target of his attentions.


    ¡°Almost! I¡¯m trying, just a little¡­ further!¡± The colt strains, the talons on the end of his forelimb reaching forth. Unsteadily, he pushes himself up from the shoulders of the two fillies supporting his weight, the trio wobbling uncertainly as he finally manages to get two of his talons around the jar.


    ¡°Got it!¡± Ceridwen calls out triumphantly; and just in time, too, as the precarious pony pyramid promptly plummets to the ground, the gryph colt barely able to secure his prize in his talons to drag it from the top of the drawer out of reach where it had been hidden from the royal twins. Falling backwards, Ceridwen lands squarely on his spine with a groan, the jar of cookies resting directly on his chest.


    Saoirse next to him is the first to recover from the fall, shaking her head as she bounds up to the aristocratic blank. ¡°You got it!¡± The servant filly cheers, excitedly, as she reaches to unscrew the lid of the jar.


    ¡°Not here!¡± Seren protests, rolling over back onto her front and standing before shaking herself off. ¡°Mom will be back any minute, we need to go where she won¡¯t see us! And get that cabinet closed, or she¡¯ll see the jar is missing.¡±


    Ceridwen nods, not needing any further prompting. He didn¡¯t need the help of the pony pyramid to close the cabinet, he could just barely reach the lower lip to swing it shut. Without further ado, the trio of mischievous colts and fillies race away and up the stairs even as they hear the approaching of some older pony, likely come to investigate the crashing sound of the trio falling over. Only once they were safely in Seren¡¯s room with the door shut behind them, did the group take pause. Triumphantly, Saoirse wraps the jar up in her forelimbs and tries to open the tightly sealed lid, only for it to fail to budge no matter how she strained.


    ¡°Here, let me try.¡± Ceridwen reaches for the jar, wrapping his talons around the lid and turning. It was difficult, but the gryph¡¯s talons are able to get better traction than the servants hooves, and he is able to remove the lid with a pop, enabling the trio to all grab cookies for themselves with smug, self-satisfied expressions.


    ¡°Seren? Are you in there?¡± A voice calls out from beyond the door, and the trio all freeze as the rapping of talons on wood sounds.


    ¡°Quick! Take the cookies and go hide!¡± Seren hisses out to Saoirse, bolting up to her hooves. ¡°Um, yes! I¡¯m coming, just give me a second!¡± Seren calls out, while Saoirse scrambles up to her own hooves and slings the cookie jar under one forelimb. Ceridwen¡¯s eyes dart this way and that, not knowing if he should hide himself or not; was it suspicious for him to be here? Probably not, it wasn¡¯t like it was unusual for him to be hanging out with his sister in her room.


    Seren props the door open, just barely enough to be able to see what''s outside, cramming herself into the narrow opening just enough to be seen by the source of the voice, keeping the rest of the room out of sight. ¡°Uh, yes mother?¡±


    Ceridwen breathes a short sigh of relief at that; Just their mother, not Evander. That would have been a real problem. Cantering up, he squeezes himself into the frame along with Seren.


    He is greeted with the caring face of his mother, Beira Snowgleam, peering with a modest amount of curiosity inside. She was still young, maybe twenty-two years old; If she had been a commoner it wouldn''t be unusual if she was getting married around this age, rather than already looking after two foals.


    ¡°Oh, good, you¡¯re already here, Ceri.¡± Beira smiles warmly, while Ceridwen does his best to avoid looking nervous to not give up the jig. ¡°It seems we¡¯re going to have guests tonight. Moonblood and Stargazer from the Iutru family, they¡¯re here to discuss a partnership in control of a gold mine on the border that recently opened, as the next in line you should be there.¡± Beira nods at Seren. ¡°You too, Ceri.¡±


    Ceridwen groans and winces. Oh, great, official business. Just his luck. He clucks his beak in discontent and makes a thoroughly disgusted face. That seems to amuse Beira somehow, since a faint smile finds her face in response. ¡°Oh, honey, I know you don¡¯t care for these things, but I promise it won¡¯t take long. You¡¯re just there to introduce yourselves, then you can head back. But before they get here, you two need to wash up and look your best. Seren?¡± Beira¡¯s gaze meets Seren¡¯s, who needs no further explanation of what was being asked.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    With a faux serious expression and a bit of a daredevil look in her eyes, Seren promptly salutes the mare. ¡°Ay ay, Mom! You know I¡¯ll make sure he looks spick and span.¡±


    Ceridwen rolls his eyes. Ah well, at least it would be Seren fussing over him rather than some servant. Before he can even properly react, Seren swings the door open and takes Ceridwen¡¯s talons in her own, dragging him along on her way to the baths.


    The next few minutes were hazy for Ceridwen, as if his consciousness had just leapt forwards in time. The next thing he knew, he was in the tub with Seren, the filly¡¯s taloned hooves meticulously shampooing his mane, while he sat there stoically with his eyes shut. His distaste for the reason they were here notwithstanding, he wasn¡¯t particularly upset. Bathtime was fun!


    Feeling that Seren was done just from the particular way she removed her talons from his mane that last time, Ceridwen dunks his head into the water, swishing it around to make sure the shampoo was fully excised from his mane, before whipping his mane out of the water, sopping wet and hanging down over his face. Casting a half grin Seren¡¯s way, he tilts his head and lifts a hoof, as though posing for a photoshoot.


    ¡°So, how do I look?¡± He asks, jokingly. Seren raises a talon to her beak as she tries to stifle a laugh.


    ¡°Pfft, like you¡¯re wearing a mop on your head.¡± The filly bumps into him, and he promptly takes advantage by throwing his own forelimbs around her, trapping her close to him and rubbing his soaking wet mane and the side of his face up against hers affectionately.


    ¡°Now you, too, shall be afflicted by the curse of the mop-head!¡± Ceridwen calls out, jovially.


    ¡°Noooo¡­!¡± Seren whines out melodramatically, though despite that cry, she is smiling playfully and reciprocates with a hug in return, even if less tightly. ¡°I am accursed! Damned! Lost!¡± Seren wails, before the two gryph twins fade into silence for a moment, Ceridwen closing his eyes and just basking in the warmth of both the water and Seren¡¯s feathers.


    Then, that moment is up, and Ceridwen releases Seren, scooting back to the edge of the bathtub. ¡°Alright you, now turn around so I can get your mane too.¡±


    But even as he takes the shampoo in talon and squirts it out onto one hoof, the world around him fades away into muddied incomprehension, as the so-called colt¡¯s consciousness is called back to the stallion he truly is.


    <hr />


    Seren stares down her opponent across from her, spellblade and hoofclaws at the ready. The smell of smoke hangs thick in the air, distant sounds of battle reaching her, crumbling ruins and stonework surrounding her on all sides, but all of her attention is on the dastard across from her. He looks¡­ Vaguely familiar, to her. A pegasus gryph, like her brother, but it was definitely not her brother. It didn¡¯t matter. She knew she had to fight.


    A cruel sneer finds her opponent''s face, along with a glint of savage interest in his eye, before he leaps for her, both wings flapping up before swiping down. She dives forward, avoiding the strike and retaliating with a telekinetic swing of her spellblade, wheeling around in place with just enough time to lunge with her hoofclaw before the pegasus had time to follow up.


    Both attacks are futile, the spinning wingblades of the pegasus dashing both attacks astray, the pegasus themself moving freely not even slowed down by the attacks. Before she can recover, the hoof of the pegasus hammers into her stomach, and she feels her body go partially limp as the breath is knocked from her lungs.


    In desperation, she charges and fires a wide spread of five magical beams from her horn, four of which go far astray. The last simply glances off the stallions helmet before he pecks at her face with savage force.


    She can hear her cry of pain, though she was numb to what was going on, as the thin skin under her feathers is ripped asunder by her foe, two taloned claws grasping her shoulders. Unable to move fast enough to resist, she finds herself lifted into the air as the pegasus flaps his wings, before slamming her down into the ground back-first.


    The groan of pain that emits is far quieter than the last, despite the agony being far worse; her lungs felt sealed shut, and she couldn''t get enough breath to make any louder sound. She looks up defiantly at her assailant, expecting the coup de grace that was surely coming.


    What she sees instead is far worse. The stallion was looking her up and down with unrestrained prurient interest, his tongue licking the outside of his beak with anticipation. A cold feeling of absolute dread falls over Seren as she freezes up.


    ¡°N-no¡­¡± She just barely manages to get enough breath inside of herself to whimper out. ¡°Y-you can¡¯t.¡±


    Her desperate plea was entirely unheard, as the stallion pins her hindlegs out to the sides. Sickened, Seren shuts her eyes tightly, not wanting to see what was coming.


    And for that reason, she is caught entirely by surprise when instead of the expected contact, she is hit with a loud woosh of air and the weight on her limbs vanishes instantly as a hefty impact sounds out above her. Opening up her eyes in disbelief, silhouetted against the firelight from the burning buildings all around, is the form of a pony she would recognize anywhere.


    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing, to MY SISTER?¡± Seren blinks upon hearing those words. Something was off¡­ Hadn¡¯t she heard those same words in that same voice before?


    ¡°Who do you think you are? Nopony gets between me and my prize!¡± The scene plays out like an echo, as the other stallion growls and lunges at Ceridwen, only for the younger pegasus to deftly slant his body sideways to avoid the hoofclaw , his wing sliding under the other ponies forelimb, the dodge having not just avoided his attack but also placing him inside his opponents guard.


    Schlnk. A sound equal parts horrible and delightful echoes across the surroundings, as the metallic edge strapped tightly to Ceridwen¡¯s wing lunges forward, slashing open the other stallion from the pit of his forelimb up across his sternum. There is a gasp of shock and pain, moments before Ceridwen¡¯s beak slams down into his forehead with a resounding crack.


    The force of the impact stuns the other stallion as he stumbles back staggering on his hooves. He wouldn¡¯t get a chance to recover, as Ceridwen¡¯s hoof collides with the side of his head and both forelimbs wrap tightly around the neck of Seren¡¯s attacker.


    For a few terrible, drawn out moments, the other stallion flails, becoming increasingly weaker as the grip around his neck is tightened further and further, suffocating agonizingly slowly as his eyes bulge from their sockets. Ceridwen¡¯s expression reveals no mercy or remorse, only cold-blooded hatred and satisfaction as the life finally leaves the other stallion, and he is unceremoniously dropped to the ground with a dull thud.


    And just as breath leaves him, Seren¡¯s returns to her, and she is able to struggle up to her hooves, retrieve her spellblade with some quick telekinesis, and join Ceridwen¡¯s side over the body.


    ¡°Hawky¡­ You came.¡± The edges of Seren¡¯s mouth twitch upwards.


    Ceridwen¡¯s gaze tilts up to gaze at her instead of the now-dead nemesis at his hooves, which he promptly kicks away. His gaze softens as he does, turning gentle, as he protectively wraps his forelimbs around Seren¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Of course I did, sis. When have I ever left you in a lurch?¡±


    Seren lowers her face in mild embarrassment, blushing lightly. With just another moment, she takes a deep breath. ¡°There¡¯s still fighting. We¡¯d better get back to it.¡±


    Ceridwen nods, turns, and points southwards. ¡°They¡¯ve got fliers in the air, I could probably get past them but I wouldn''t be able to while carrying you. When I was in the air though, I saw the wall had collapsed on that side. Once we get to the cliffside, I should be able to slow our fall enough for a safe descent.¡±


    Seren nods, trying to keep her mind focused on the task at hoof even after her ordeal. ¡°Right. Lead the way¡­ Hawky.¡± That last sound felt reassuring, somehow. No matter how dire the circumstances, she couldn''t help but be comforted, knowing her brother always had her back.


    <hr />


    ¡°Come on bro, you¡¯re going to be late!¡± Moonshadow blinks his eyes open in confusion at the voice-so familiar and yet so alien at the same time, feeling the split hooves of another hyperaustralan shaking him. Eyes fluttering open, he finds himself standing in a brightly lit room, three other ponies staring at him expectantly. Two adults, maybe thirty years old, and one around his age if a bit older.


    ¡­Mom? Dad? Moonshadow feels a tinge of sorrow at the thought though he isn¡¯t sure why, as the other pony present tugs on his hoof. ¡°It¡¯s your birthday today! C¡¯mon, don¡¯t you remember?¡±


    His birthday¡­ Wasn''t there something with that..? He can¡¯t quite put a hoof on it, but something doesn¡¯t seem right. He didn¡¯t know when his birthday was. But clearly his family here does, as he follows them in a haze, into another room of their home. ¡®Their home¡¯, a farm near the foothills of the mountains. So familiar, and yet so foreign at the same time; had he been here before?


    Balloons and streamers fill the room, a mouth watering cake on display right in front. Moonshadow had never seen a cake before, and so the imagery is somewhat confused, but it doesn¡¯t matter; blinded by hunger, he steps forward. Hunger. Why is he so hungry? Looking down, he sees his limbs, frail and thin, barely supporting his weight.


    ¡°Come on Shadow, don¡¯t you like it?¡± He hears the maternal voice of his mother ask, the epitome of maternal care. But when he looks up to see her, there is nothing to be seen. Staring directly into her eyes, somehow his brain can¡¯t resolve her features, can¡¯t put a face to the voice, couldn¡¯t say what color her eyes were or the style of her mane. Shrieking, Moonshadow backs up, the familiar pang of nauseating hunger leaving him staggering on his feet while his family stare at him in confusion.


    ¡°Is something wrong, Shadow?¡± The three ponies all ask in unison. Moonshadow looks back and forth, from his mother to his father, both featureless and empty-faced, as he backpedals out of the room.


    ¡°Wh-Who are you?¡± He asks finally, even as his instincts shout out against it. He wanted to be here, to be accepted by them, to have his family near him. And yet he can¡¯t remember their names, can¡¯t place an image to their faces. Something is wrong; something is very, very wrong.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you remember us?¡± Only the last pony¡­ His older sister¡­ asks now, stepping towards him until they were almost muzzle to muzzle. ¡°We¡¯re your family.¡±


    You left me. Unbidden, that thought comes to Moonshadow¡¯s mind, and his mouth slowly, hesitantly opens to speak. If he said these words, he knew they would be gone. He would be all alone again. Silently, he wills himself to stay quiet, to just pretend and lean into the unfamiliar comforts. But almost as if compelled the words slip from his grasp.


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t have a family.¡± And just like that, the formless, faceless shapes of unfamiliar ponies dissipate, like smoke, along with the rest of the house, leaving only the trees and aching cold.


    He is alone, the forest is his home.


    And just as always, his only companion is his own gnawing hunger.

 Compassion and resentment

    When sleep¡¯s grip over him fades, Moonshadow doesn¡¯t rise straight away. The old ache of loneliness and hunger is still there, the sides of his face wet with tears he doesn¡¯t remember crying. But the rest he is awakening from doesn¡¯t match what he¡¯d seen in that dream, it was one decidedly unfamiliar to the little colt.


    It¡¯s¡­ Comfortable. The chill of the night air can¡¯t reach him here, curled up inside a bundle of blankets on the upper loft of a barn. To other ponies, it would have been considerably below-standard housing; for the impoverished orphan, it was a rare luxury to sleep under a roof.


    Perhaps it is because of that reason that, though he had woken up at the crack of dawn, the young colt had not moved from his spot, even with his eyes open and staring up at the thatch roof above. How had he gotten here? It all felt so surreal; he had just been trying to steal food from them, and somehow he¡¯d ended up with a place to sleep and a full meal.


    Perhaps he should have been thankful, but instead, he simply feels wary. What were they up to? What was going on? Was it some kind of trap? Maybe they¡¯d already called the authorities, and he should just make a run for it before something went wrong¡­


    ¡°Rise an¡¯ shine, ya silly colt! It¡¯s high time y¡¯all got up!¡± The chipper voice of a pony from the staircase nearby startles Moonshadow to attention, looking over to see the face of one Roisin Sunshine Rhodi grinning at him. ¡°Ah already ¡®ave breakfast ready t¡¯go. Oatmeal n¡¯ molasses!¡±


    Any thought of escape leaves Moonshadow¡¯s mind at the thought of food; his stomach grumbles once again, reminding him that though he¡¯d gotten to eat the previous day he was still far from nourished. It took time to warm the digestive tract up to proper sustenance again. Without even meaning to, or thinking about it, Moonshadow wobbles up to his emaciated legs, sniffing the air hungrily.


    ¡°Food?¡± Is all he ends up saying, his voice sounding dry. More complex thoughts than that were not necessarily in the colts'' nature; it was hard for them to be, given the lack of anything resembling a proper education.


    Roisin just giggles in response and motions the colt over. ¡°Thas¡¯ right, so c¡¯mon! Your oats¡¯ll get cold if¡¯n ya don¡¯t get up and come along now!¡±


    Spurred on by that statement, Moonshadow finds himself following the bicorn as she bounds down the stairs and off towards the farmhouse a few meters away from the barn. For the second time in as many days, Moonshadow finds himself entering the house of another pony.


    Torrent and Everbloom are already there, waiting for him. Though the older bicorn, the other two ponies'' big brother, was still looking a mite suspicious, more than a little bit standoffish in posture, he isn¡¯t outright glaring at Moonshadow. Guess I¡¯ll take what I can get.


    Uncertainly, the colt climbs up into the seat next to Everbloom, eyes darting around anxiously, like a wild animal caught in a cage, seeking a route of escape. Hunger had drawn him here; it would not, however, set his frayed nerves at ease.


    ¡°Yer lookin¡¯ better today, Moonshadow!¡± Aria Everbloom states, leaning over to take a look at the colts face. ¡°Ahm glad. Jus¡¯ you wait, big brother makes the best oatmeal, with berries an¡¯ molasses an¡¯ all sorts of things!¡± She clamors against the table excitedly.


    A pang of envy goes through Moonshadow¡¯s mind. This filly¡­ She had older ponies to look after her, who fed her, made sure she was warm and safe¡­ She¡¯d probably never had to endure the cold of a blizzard or fainted from hunger. Despite the kindness he is being shown, he can¡¯t help but feel a powerful undercurrent of bitterness underneath the gratitude.


    A bowl, still warm from being heated over a fire, is placed down before him, and Moonshadow looks up to see Torrent staring down at him. ¡°You had better eat up, lil colt. If¡¯n yer going ta be staying ¡®ere until yer feelin¡¯ better, you¡¯d best expect that you¡¯ll be workin¡¯ to earn yer keep.¡± The imperious gaze of the stallion seems somehow at odds with the gentleness with which he moves; Moonshadow can¡¯t help but feel there¡¯s more going on under there than met the eye.


    ¡°Y-yes, sir.¡± Moonshadow nods his head. ¡°Um¡­ Thank you for letting me stay.¡± He responds meekly, pulling the bowl closer to him. True to Everblooms word, the oats are far fancier than just any old dry grains like Moonshadow was used to eating; it was usually the easiest thing to find in unwatched sheds or storehouses. The smell alone is delectable. Uncertainly, he takes a bite, almost in awe of the richness of flavor.


    Torrent quirks his mouth as he sits down again, the suspicion in his eyes fading for a moment, although Moonshadow hadn¡¯t seen it, too fixated on the meal before him. Huffing, Torrent shakes his head. ¡°Dun thank me, thank mah lil¡¯ sis ¡®ere. She¡¯s the one who said ya can stay.¡± He huffs, brusquely. A twinge of pity finds itself into the standoffish heart of the stallion; just looking at Moonshadow eating, it¡¯s apparent to see that he¡¯d not had a proper meal in months at the least, maybe ever.


    ¡°R-right. Of course. Thankyou, Miss¡­ Um¡­¡± He scrunches up his face, he can¡¯t quite remember the filly¡¯s name.


    The bright red filly just grins and bumps into him from the side playfully. ¡°It¡¯s Aria Everbloom Rhodi, ¡®member? Ah guess ah have it easy rememberin¡¯ yer name, since ya only have the one.¡± the filly giggles a little. ¡°How are ya likin¡¯ Torri¡¯s cooking?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± Moonshadow winces, trying to remember the word. ¡°...Great?¡± It wasn¡¯t the one he was looking for, but it was close enough for this circumstance.


    Torrent huffs, looking proud with a coy smile on his face. ¡°Hmph. Mayhaps yer not so bad. Alroight, get that there food in ya, we¡¯re burnin sunshine. An¡¯ ah don¡¯t mean mah little sis over there.¡±


    Moonshadow nods and returns his attention to his food, slowly coming to be more at ease. He is still wary, but¡­ at least, he doesn¡¯t feel in any immediate danger.


    That might have been the first time that was true in his life.


    <hr>


    One meal later, and Moonshadow is brought out to the back of the barn by Torrent, the hyperaustralan struggling to keep up with the older bicorn¡¯s long stride. Upon reaching the fields, Torrent rounds on the younger colt.


    ¡°Alright ya little scamp, if¡¯n yer goin ta be staying with us for a while, yer gonna hafta earn your keep. So while mah sisters an¡¯ I are pickin¡¯ crops, yer goin¡¯ ta help weed the fields. Ya think ya can do that?¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Moonshadow puts on his most determined face and stands tall and upright, nodding his head. It was a rare occasion indeed that anypony thought he could do anything helpful, and he was determined not to let his benefactors down.


    ¡°Now, c¡¯mere an¡¯ I¡¯ll show ya what yer taking out. An¡¯ you¡¯d best watch yerself, ah¡¯d better not catch ya diggin¡¯ up our crops!¡± Torrent warns icily, before jerking forward with his head to lead the way.


    The fields are not like the ones Moonshadow was most used to, at least, they aren¡¯t organized in a similar way; crops are all grown in close proximity to other types, groves of fruit trees coexisting with berry bushes in the shade and grain crops in the sun. Altogether it looks almost more like a forest than a farm, albeit, an extremely lush, well-maintained, and plentiful forest; just looking at it is enough to make Moonshadow¡¯s mouth water.


    Somewhat to Torrent¡¯s surprise, he barely needs to instruct Moonshadow on what to do, as the Hyperaustralan seems to easily differentiate the edible crops from the invading weeds. Presumably, years of foraging both in the wild and on others farms had graced him with a near encyclopedic knowledge of what was edible or not, and he was a quick learner to boot. Slowly, he grows more comfortable letting the colt do the chores on his own while he heads off to do his own work, checking in every once in a while; every time he does, he finds the colt still hard at work, jaw set with a fierce gleam in his eye, a radiant sense of determination emanating from him.


    Still, the ponies endurance has limits, and despite the colts clear intention to keep going, Torrent notices him growing increasingly sluggish as the sun reaches its zenith. Looking around, Torrent whistles; The colt had saved him maybe a couple hours of work, all told, and was still making his best effort at it even now. Delicately, the stallion places a hoof on the hyperaustralan¡¯s shoulder; the colt jumps in the air, startled, and bolts around in a low stance as if thinking he was under attack.


    ¡°Woah, easy there. Ah wuz jus¡¯ gonna ask ya if¡¯n you wanted ta take a break now. We¡¯re makin¡¯ good time, soz we can take it easy for a bit.¡± Torrent states reassuringly, recoiling slightly at Moonshadow¡¯s skittish behavior.


    The colt seemingly needs no further prompting, simply nosediving into the dirt and laying there motionless as if he was a machine that had just been flipped to the ¡®off¡¯ switch. Torrent blinks, before laughing slightly; and then promptly scowling as he realized what he was doing. Wasn¡¯t he getting too comfortable around this scoundrel?


    ¡°Alright, c¡¯mon, we¡¯re goin¡¯ ta git some lunch an¡¯ cool off for a bit where ah can keep an eye on ya.¡± Torrent states, pulling the colt up to his hooves. Moonshadow stumbles, but nods.


    ¡°A-alright, mister.¡± He bows his head quickly, as he runs his hoof over his joints to brush some of the dirt from them.


    As the pair crossed back towards the barn in silence, Torrent glances back at the colt scampering after him, before clearing his throat and with a severe tone of reluctance, speaking up. ¡°Yer a hard worker, kiddo. You done farm work before?¡±


    Moonshadow pauses before shaking his head, and looking away. ¡°N-no¡­ I just, picked up a bit from¡­ watching other ponies doing chores.¡± Torrent snorts at that; ¡®watching¡¯ his hoof, the colt meant casing the place. ¡°And, I know how to find what''s edible and what''s not, so it''s not too hard to identify crops from weeds.¡±


    Torrent scrunches up his face as he pulls open the sliding door on the barn, pausing while Moonshadow trots in before looking back hesitantly, waiting for the stallion to follow. Instead, he simply frowns, watching the colt. ¡°...Jus¡¯ how long ¡®ave you been on yer own, kid?¡±


    Moonshadow frowns back, leaning away as if worried Torrent was going to strike him. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know. I was too young to really remember it clearly.¡±


    The colt¡¯s gaze hardens as he clenches his jaw, and Torrent watches him for a long moment before continuing with surprising tenderness. ¡°An¡¯... Jus¡¯ what happened to yer¡­ Folks?¡±


    Moonshadow turns towards Torrent and scowls, suddenly defiant as he raises his voice. ¡°How should I know!?¡± He shoots off. ¡°They left me in the woods to fend for myself! They could be dead, the rulers of the world, or anything in between as far as I know!¡± The colt trembles and looks away. ¡°A-and good riddance to them, as far as I care. I hope they¡¯re poor and miserable for the rest of their lives!¡±


    Torrent doesn¡¯t say anything, but just sighs and shakes his head, walking over to open the cellar and get something to eat. ¡°...Alroight. We¡¯ve got-¡± The stallion cuts himself off as he turns back towards the colt, seeing Moonshadow tearing up and trembling in place, muscles tensed like he was in a fight. Sighing, Torrent leaves the cellar door open and trots down over to sit next to the colt.


    ¡°I-Is there something wrong with me? Why didn¡¯t they want me?¡± The colt¡¯s voice breaks as he speaks, squeezing his eyes shut. He sighs heavily and looks away, suddenly looking exhausted. ¡°...Just because I was born wrong?¡±


    Although he doesn¡¯t ask, Moonshadow can see the curiosity readily apparent on the older stallion''s face at that last statement. With a long pause of silence, the colt stares down at the ground, sniffling, before answering the unspoken question. ¡°A-a doctor told me about it one time. Said I was in¡­ In-tur something. I guess I was born wrong, something about being half colt and half filly.¡± Moonshadow just sounds exhausted now. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. All it means to me is that they¡¯re gone, and I have to take care of myself.¡±


    Surprising the colt, or, half-colt half-filly based on what they said, Torrent¡¯s hoof finds Moonshadow¡¯s shoulder, with a sympathetic look on his face. ¡°That might be, but roight now y¡¯ave got some Rhodi family hospitality to look forward to. Courtesy of mah sister, of course. So chin up, alroight? Ah¡¯m sure she wouldn¡¯ wanna see ya mopin¡¯ around.¡±


    That seems to get the colt to pull himself together somewhat, and Moonshadow puts on a determined look and nods his head. ¡°Mhm!¡±


    There isn¡¯t much more talk while Torrent makes lunch for them; not just himself and Moonshadow, but his two younger sisters, too. Only once it''s ready does he head out to the fields to call them in for a family meal.


    Sitting at the table and gazing at the one last empty seat by the end, Moonshadow furrows his brow in confusion. Daisy and tomato hayburgers only went so far to distract him, as delicious as they were. After a long moment, he can¡¯t help but ask about the conspicuous absence. ¡°S-So¡­¡± Moonshadow starts. ¡°...What about you? Why are¡­ What happened to your¡­ folks?¡± He finishes lamely.


    The air of the gathering, moments ago lively as Torrent and Sunshine chattered while Everbloom chowed down on her sandwich, shifts like somepony had just flicked a light switch. Even the otherwise indefatigable sunshine shifts uneasily in her seat, as Torrent just glowers over at Moonshadow.


    ¡°They died.¡± He states bluntly and apathetically, seeming to have absolutely no interest in discussing the matter any farther.


    ¡°Sorry about them.¡± Everbloom states, tugging on Moonshadow¡¯s forelimb. ¡°They dun lik¡¯ talkin¡¯ about it much. Ah don¡¯t even know what happened to ¡®em, jus¡¯ that they died when ah was just a wee lil¡¯ filly, too young ta remember their faces.¡±


    Moonshadow gives Everbloom an incredulous look. ¡°You mean, they won¡¯t tell you?¡± He looks back and forth between the present ponies, earning himself a stern glare from Torrent.


    ¡°Now look ¡®ere, mah sister might have talked me into lettin ya stay, but that only goes so far. You mind yerself while you¡¯re under our roof an¡¯ dun go lookin¡¯ for answers you¡¯r not ready to ¡®ear. Ya hear me?¡± Torrent states coldly, causing the colt to shiver at the threatening gleam in the stallion''s eye.


    ¡°U-Um, yes, sir!¡± Moonshadow pipes up, remembering just how strong the stallion''s limbs had been choking him out when they¡¯d first met. All the curiosity in the world wouldn¡¯t make him forget that.


    With that ominous warning, and the tension in the room thickened, Moonshadow uneasily returns to his sandwich, mind full of more questions than ever.

 Expedition

    That morning is the second time in the past week that Ceridwen finds himself waking up in bed right next to a slumbering mare.


    I really need to stop doing this. One of these days I¡¯m going to cause a scandal. Ceridwen shudders at the thought; the last thing he needed was Father breathing down his withers about that. So long before anypony can come to wake him up, he throws the blankets off of both himself and Saoirse, the servant grumbling in response at their beauty sleep being interrupted, a decidedly frazzled and messy-maned Blank popping up from beneath the covers with a disgruntled expression.


    ¡°Alright, come on.¡± Ceridwen yawns between words. ¡°Let''s get you someplace less suspicious before anypony realizes you¡¯re gone.¡± Without thinking about it, Ceridwen winces in discomfort at the sound of his own voice. Somehow, even though it had only been a dream, he¡¯d expected the voice of a colt to leave his beak, not the decidedly deeper and rougher voice of a nearly full-grown young stallion.


    ¡°But I was having such a nice dream¡­¡± Saoirse mumbles, staring down at the ground, the edges of her mouth tilting downwards. ¡°Fine.¡± She follows up shortly after a moment, setting yet another pang of loneliness loose into Ceridwen¡¯s heart. Everypony was so standoffish these days, he swore.


    Moving quickly and quietly- both ponies being well adept at stealth, given a mountain of experience on one of their parts and the benefit of sound-damping feathers on the others-the duo steal away through the palace corridors towards the servant quarters, only to round the corner to the hall holding the servants dormitories at the same time Seren appears on the far side.


    Ceridwen gulps nervously, while his sister across from him raises a brow curiously. ¡°Ah. Just the pony I wanted to see.¡± Is all she says, before striding up¡­ Not to Ceridwen, but to Saoirse.


    ¡°Huh? Why do you want to see me?¡± Saoirse asks, furrowing her own brow.


    Seren just shakes her head. ¡°Never mind that. Are you just about¡­ Done with her?¡± Seren asks Ceridwen uneasily, prompting Ceridwen to step back in consternation. Just what did she mean by that?


    But, not wanting to confront her or spill the beans about what they were actually up to-that the servant had attempted to run away once again-Ceridwen simply nods slowly. ¡°She¡¯s all yours.¡±


    Saoirse gives a glare to both of the aristocrats present, irritated at being treated like a possession that the siblings had to share. But soon enough, Ceridwen was trotting back down the corridor, eager to wash his hands of the whole fiasco, leaving her with just Seren by her side.


    <hr>


    ¡°Why do you want me along?¡± Saoirse Starshot questions. The two of them had retired to the servants'' own quarters for privacy, where Seren had explained the task she had been given.


    ¡°There¡¯s something fishy about this mission.¡± Seren explains. ¡°I need somepony I can trust to watch my back. And more importantly, I need a pony I know won¡¯t tell my father what I told them, since I wasn¡¯t supposed to mention this to anypony.¡±


    Starshot eyes her skeptically. ¡°I get that I¡¯m pretty awesome, but aren¡¯t you afraid I¡¯ll run off on you out there? You know I¡¯m always looking for a way to escape¡±


    Seren smirks a little at the thought. ¡°Run off with our supplies and leave me high and dry? Nah, never. You wouldn¡¯t do that to me. And you wouldn¡¯t run off without supplies either, since if you were intending to do that you¡¯d have just gotten yourself banished.¡±


    Saoirse groans, hating how correct she is. How does the aristocrat always know what she¡¯s up to? ¡°You better not have used any freaky mind magic on me...¡± She mumbles, sullenly.


    Seren quirks her beak. ¡°Starshot, you know I wouldn¡¯t do that to you.¡± She sounds almost hurt by the suggestion.


    Saoirse sighs. ¡°Alright. When are we leaving?¡±


    ¡°Father wanted me to leave at first light, so technically, we¡¯re already late. I¡¯ve already grabbed supplies, so we should set off right away.¡± Seren affirms.


    Saoirse groans. Well, at least she¡¯d gotten a good night''s rest last night¡­ ¡°Ugh. Alright, fine. Just give me a minute to get packed, alright?¡± Supplies or no, she would want some clothes for protection from the elements.


    Seren nods. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll meet you by the front gate as soon as you¡¯re ready.¡± Saoirse grunts in agreement, as Seren turns towards the door.


    As she leaves, Seren smiles slightly to herself. Grumpy or not, she knew the servant wouldn¡¯t let her down. ¡°Besides.¡± She breathes out to herself, too quiet for the servant behind her to hear. ¡°It¡¯s been too long since we went out together.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    <hr>


    Saoirse Starshot sniffs the air, looking at the saddlebags she¡¯d been given. As was her wont, Seren had insisted on carrying the heavier load herself, leaving the servant feeling rather underpacked. ¡°What did you put in these?¡± Starshot asks, curiously. It smells... Familiar.


    ¡°Books. Reagents.¡± Seren states, stretching her calves. ¡°I figured the privacy of the road would be a perfect place to continue your lessons.¡±


    Starshot blushes in response, looking away. ¡°You¡¯re really going to keep teaching me, even though I keep trying to use it to escape?¡±


    ¡°Hey, if you¡¯re going to be casting spells anyways, I¡¯d prefer if you didn¡¯t kill yourself in the process.¡± Seren states, firmly, poking Starshot on the muzzle.


    Starshot frowns. Charity from the aristocracy. Of course. She can¡¯t help but feel irritated at the notion. She wanted to be the one who made her own life, not be handed it on a silver platter by Seren. Ungrateful again. What else is new with you? She sighs, shaking her head to try and clear the thoughts.


    Seren jerks with her head forwards. ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s get going.¡±


    The pair cross to the towering gates, flanked by two pony guards. Gazing up at the portcullis and towers on either side, Seren can¡¯t help compare them to the far more modern structures of the city beyond. One of many relics of an older, far more violent era before the formation of the Confederation.


    The deep pony guards had been rotated out for the morning, so the guards on duty now are more typical lowborns; a bicorn with their dual horns and goat-like hooves, and one of the more horse-like plains ponies. Holding up one hoof, the guard furrows his brow.


    ¡°And where are you off to? And why are you bringing the servant with you?¡± His eyes flick over at Starshot distastefully. The guards had dealt with that one enough times; Even if they themselves aren¡¯t aristocrats, it isn¡¯t hard to feel superior to a mere servant. That would have been true even if the pony in question wasn''t the constant irritation that was Starshot.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to finalize a deal in town.¡± Seren replies cordially. ¡°I need Starshot¡¯s help to carry all the goods with us.¡± Seren lies confidently. She generally did not like dishonesty, but she is damn good at it when she needs to use it; covering for Saoirse as foals had somewhat required that.


    The guard appraises the two skeptically. It is certainly unusual for a noble to be carrying goods to sell or trade, but a deal could be more complex than that and there is presumably a good reason for it. So, he eventually shrugs. ¡°Alright. Noted for the record.¡± He nods, and motions up at the gatehouse. The portcullis draws open, allowing Seren and Saoirse to trot out into the castle town beyond.


    <hr>


    The first stop for the pair is the train station. Their destination is rather deep in the wilderness, so the route is going to be rather circuitous; The train lines only stopped at the Hyperaustralan capitol, so they would be going past their destination by a significant margin. Still, even if the total distance traveled would be much greater than the actual distance to their destination, it is still far faster than traveling entirely on hoof.


    Seren stares out the window of the first class cabin on the train they¡¯d taken. The ride will be several hours, so there is plenty of time to just think. The route connecting the southernmost and easternmost reaches of civilization meant the vast majority of the track is entirely through wilderness, mountains and forest. As a result, this train in particular is one of the more expensive routes to maintain; Seren still remembers when she was a filly, her parents having to deal with a landslide on the tracks miles outside of any city.


    But right now, it¡¯s a welcome change. She¡¯d been cooped up in the big city in Luddas long enough, and soon enough would be in the big city in Hyperaustralis. A bit of greenery and vast, untamed lands full of potential and mystery is a perfect break to that. Speaking of mystery, there is something quite peculiar about this whole assignment. Just how is some backwoods forest so strategically important? And what was that Evander said about a tower? Seren frowns in frustration.


    ¡°Have you ever been to Hyperaustralis?¡± Starshot¡¯s question breaks Seren out of her stupor, and she looks over at the blank. The pony in question is currently lounging about quite contentedly, laying back on the wide sofa-like seating with her hooves crossed behind her head and rear legs propped up on the windowsill. Somepony was certainly enjoying the first class accommodations.


    Seren shakes her head. She was far more well traveled than the servant of course, so it was a reasonable question, but she¡¯d never been that far south. ¡°Most of the time when I was sent anywhere it was still within our duchy. Father didn¡¯t exactly have us traveling around for fun, and I¡¯ve only recently been old enough to take on assignments. Though, I did accompany my mom on a trip to the northwest last summer.¡±


    Starshot nods, stretching and yawning as she flops over onto her side. ¡°Do we have accommodations planned?¡±


    Seren shakes her head once more. ¡°Nope, we left on too short notice. It¡¯s fine, given my status we¡¯ll be able to find someplace no problem. If nothing else, we can seek lodgings with the local aristocracy.¡±


    Starshot groans. ¡°Great, more nobles. That¡¯s just what we needed.¡±


    Seren looks over at the servant, shaking her head in consternation. ¡°Oh Saoirse, whatever am I to do with you?¡± She asks, coyly. ¡°Here, I¡¯ll tell ya what, I¡¯ll let you pick what we have for lunch. Will that put you in a good mood?¡±


    Saoirse Starshot perks up. ¡°Hrm? You mean, on the train?¡± When Seren nods in confirmation and hands her a menu, she looks down at it hungrily. The thought of food put in her head, her stomach growls; she hadn¡¯t eaten anything since last night. ¡°Alright, you win. Hardly gonna be able to stay upset with an offer like that.¡± She relents, flipping through the menu. ¡°Ooh... How about eggplant parmesan? I haven¡¯t had that in ages.¡±


    That was rather an understatement; servants generally didn¡¯t get meals that require that much preparation. Somepony is certainly getting spoiled today. Seren giggles in amusement and nods. ¡°You got it.¡±

 The Duel

    By the time the train finally arrives at its destination, Seren had been expecting to get off for almost half an hour. The outskirts of the city just seem to stretch on and on, an endless sea of concrete and low-lying houses and factories before eventually the train pulls past the towering walls of the inner city.


    Here, surrounding the train station, the environment is much different, much more akin to back home; quaint brick buildings, trees lining the cobblestone roads which have yet to be motorized, the smell of baked goods wafting out into the streets where various ponies trot this way and that or sit at open air cafe¡¯s reading the days paper.


    But in another way, it is still entirely foreign. There is an oddly artificial feeling to the meticulously plotted streets and walls, the way that the architecture seemed as though it was designed to block the view of the land further away. The buildings are noticeably more cramped together and more recently constructed. And of course, there are still those enticing undercurrents of other unfamiliar smells from further upwind in the air; Sure, industrial smoke doesn¡¯t exactly smell good, but it is the smell of progress.


    Taking in a deep breath, Seren relaxes while Saoirse awkwardly stands around next to her. ¡°Alright¡­ Where to now?¡± The servant asks, looking up at the aristocrat.


    Seren pauses. Her father had made it clear that this mission was time sensitive and important; considering that, the only proper thing to do seemed to be to laze about and take in the sights. If he didn¡¯t care about her then she didn¡¯t give a damn about her mission, either. Smirking with that thought, she jerks her head towards the city. ¡°C¡¯mon, let''s go take a look around. It''s a brand new city for both of us.¡±


    Saoirse seems to follow her thought process, since the servant smirks as well as she follows after. They still have hours to explore before nighttime, plenty of time to poke around the unfamiliar environs of the city. She attracts quite a few glances from commoners on the street, along with respectful bows; just the way she walks alone makes her breeding obvious, even without considering the regal spiral horn crowning her head.


    The attention of not only those around them but the duo themself, however, is shortly attracted by a commotion from over near one of the shops lining the streets. Giving each other curious glances, Saoirse and Seren shoulder their way through the crowd just in time to hear the belligerent voice of an aristocrat shouting.


    "Are you daring to refuse me?" Pushing her way to the front of the crowd, Seren is able to ascertain the source of the voices; a pair of ponies, both finely dressed, but one being a blank while the other was a unicorn.


    "With all due respect, you don''t have any right to it!" The blank was replying to the aristocrat. "It doesn''t matter how much you offer, it isn''t for sale! It has more value to me than it ever would to you." While speaking, the blank protectively cradles one hoof near his chest; Seren sights the apparent cause of the pair''s dispute, a finely wrought golden bracelet with a diamond set in the middle. It was, to be fair, unusually elaborate for something owned by a commoner.


    The noble bristles in response, narrowing his eyes. "Are you suggesting I have less appreciation for the arts than the likes of you?"


    The merchant looks taken aback. "What? I, no, I just meant that it has sentimental value-"


    Before he can continue, the noble stomps a hoof down, a predatorial grin on his face. "An insult to my acculturation, and by extension, my very household! This can only be settled by means of a duel." He blusters, levitating a pair of pistols that he apparently already had on his person.


    Seren blinks in confusion. Just what in the heavens was the noble talking about? She had missed the beginning of the argument, but it definitely seems as though the noble is blowing things out of proportion.


    The merchant glances around anxiously, furrowing his brow and paling. "S-surely you can''t be serious." He stammers out.


    The noble''s grin only grows wider. "And now, you claim that I make frivolous challenges without intending to follow through? There is only one way to remedy this." Despite his words, his tone sounds far more jovial than anything.


    The merchant looks around, before turning on his heel and trying to run, only to find himself held back by the aristocrats magic. "Ah-ah, you have impugned my honor. You''re not about to deny me satisfaction." Forcing the merchant to turn around, the noble places a pistol at his hooves.


    The merchant quakes in fear, stumbling back and falling on his haunches, looking almost nauseous. Meanwhile, the aristocrat was already seemingly making preparations. "Come on then! Pick out a second. You! Won''t you serve as my opponents second?" The noble points out a seemingly random pony in the crowd, yet somehow they did not appear in the slightest surprised.


    Seren turns to the nearest pony next to her, another unicorn with a coifed black mane. "What in heavens name is going on?" She asks in confusion. "This isn''t the proper procedure for a duel in the slightest!"


    The unicorn just looks at her with a faint smile on his lips. "Ha, you must be from out of town, huh?" He shakes his head. "Deadeye does this all the time. I think he thinks his skills will get rusty if he doesn''t duel somepony at least once a week. Just watch."


    Unsurely, Seren does just that. In plain view, the aristocrat was handing a small purse of gold coins to each of the seconds. The merchant was standing there with shaking knees, pallid and with wide eyes. "L-look, do you want the bracelet? You can have it! It''s all yours, I won''t even charge you!" The merchant begs.


    The aristocrat just grins callously. "Its too late for that. We''ll draw at ten paces."


    The merchant lowers his head, quaking in fear, but reluctantly does as he is instructed, the two duelists taking up position back to back.


    One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine... A gunshot breaks the silence, the aristocrat having whirled around and drawn his pistol. Seren gasps in outrage; that had only been nine paces. Had this dastard no honor at all..?Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The bullet strikes the merchant on the rear leg, and he falls down to the ground with a cry. Desperately, he twists his body around and fires his own pistol.


    The recoil is all off. That gun is loaded with blanks! Seren stares incredulously, before glancing around at all the other aristocrats present. None of them seemed surprised in the slightest; slightly amused, if anything. What kind of mockery is this!?


    "Hmph. I missed the vitals. Oh well, I can always get it next time." The aristocrat- Deadeye, the other pony had said-remarks.


    I''ve let this farce go on long enough. Seren growls, and then-almost without thinking about it-crosses out into the field between the two ponies. "That''s quite enough. Put an end to this nonsense or I''ll put an end to you." Seren''s voice is hard and pitiless as she takes up stance directly in front of the other aristocrat, legs spread in a wide and low stance. Though she had not yet drawn, her magic aura extends around the middle of the spellblade at her hip. "I won''t sit by and watch you drag the name of the nobility through the muck with your transparent lack of anything resembling honorable conduct any farther." Glancing back at the merchant, who was currently moaning in pain and holding onto his injured leg, Seren jerks her head back. "Get out of here."


    Saoirse scurries up to her side, looking a tad nervous despite grinning ear to ear with excitement. ¡°Finally, some real excitement!¡± Seren gives a glance to the servant beside her before shaking her head, sighing. The reaction was hardly surprising; Saoirse was always eager to see any noble put in their place.


    Seren looks back at the noble to find him glowering at her. ¡°And just who are you, hm? You¡¯re not a local, that¡¯s for sure.¡± Deadeye¡¯s voice is contemptuous, but carefully kept level and calm as he surveys the gryph.


    ¡°Lord Seren Ardorwynn of House Cadenza, heir apparent to the grand duchy of Luddas, daughter of Lord Duke Evander Featherdash Cadenza, at your service.¡± She didn¡¯t like using her dastard of a father¡¯s name to impress the other pony, but etiquette was etiquette, despite a complete lack of respect for the other pony.


    Deadeye¡¯s eyes widen in some degree of surprise. Seren allows herself a coy smile at that. Surely, the other aristocrat had expected to be talking to some small fry; a knight, or perhaps a gentlemare. Not a member of one of the more prominent noble families in Iweriu. Before the other noble can recover from his surprise, Seren whirls the spellblade from its sheath and crosses it over her chest. ¡°Now, you can grovel at my hooves, or enjoy a far more fair match.¡±


    The audience seems far more engaged by this than the previous spectacle. Somepony from the crowd whistles, jeering ¡°She¡¯s got you there, Deadeye!¡±


    Deadeye eyes the crowd on either side, keeping his composure. ¡°Well. I can hardly let an insult like that go unanswered, can I?¡± He eventually states icily. ¡°Then I suppose I¡¯ll have two ponies blood on my hooves today. We¡¯ll duel with pistols, and once we¡¯re done, I will resume my previous duel which you so brazenly interrupted.¡±


    Seren laughs in his face, and shakes her head. ¡°Ha, and let you cheat again? Not likely. We do things a little differently where I¡¯m from. Use whatever you wish. We¡¯ll fight to first blood.¡±


    Deadeye scowls, glaring across. ¡°And why should I accept your terms? Traditionally, the challenged party decides on the choice of weapon.¡±


    Seren spits on the ground. ¡°And traditionally the challenged party isn¡¯t a lying scumbag either, yet here we are. Who precisely do you suppose is going to stop me from dueling as I see fit?¡± Seren cocks her head to the side, quirking her beak in a motion that Saoirse knows is the gryph equivalent of a smirk. ¡°I suppose you could tuck your tail between your legs and show all your friends here what a coward you really are. But so long as you accept the duel with my terms made clear, nopony is going to stop me. Well? What will it be?¡±


    Deadeye glances back and forth at the crowd, all watching him expectantly. Ordinarily, of course, such a demand would have been rejected outright, but in this circumstance, being watched by his peers and insulted in broad daylight... Seren almost giggles at the thought. There was no way any self-respecting aristocrat would deny her, here.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll endure your barbaric custom.¡± Deadeye eventually retorts, levitating his second pistol back to himself. ¡°To first blood, then.¡±


    ¡°Ten paces.¡± Seren replies. He¡¯ll try to cheat again, of course. That was fine; she was ready for it.


    ¡°No shields.¡± Deadeye responds, glaring at her. ¡°I¡¯ll tolerate the rest of your demands, but there is no way to have a fair match if you can simply block any projectiles.¡±


    Seren nods, acquiescing. ¡°So be it.¡±


    <hr>


    Ten paces. No shield. And he¡¯ll cheat and try to shoot me early, maybe on the eighth pace this time to try and take me by surprise. Seren ruminates, awaiting the signal. Deadeye didn¡¯t have the luxury of bribing his opponents second this time, with Saoirse right by her side; so long as her own match was indisputably clean, he wouldn''t have any dirt on her, no matter what his own second said. As might be expected, Deadeye had positioned himself such that the sun would be in Seren¡¯s eyes when she turned around; another variable to account for.


    One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Each step, Seren counts, eyes shut and ears swiveling to focus. No matter if it was the right number of paces or not, nopony could blame her for acting after her opponent drew.


    Six. Seven. A scuffle, hooves on pavement, the whish of a gun being drawn from its holster.


    Seren was ready. In the tiny space between her opponent turning and pulling the trigger, her horn lights up, blinking into position a meter to her side a fraction of a second before the thundercrack of a revolver firing. Her eyes flick open as she leaps forwards, the same time as Deadeye swung his hoof to the side to aim at her new position. But before he can shoot his second round, Seren¡¯s spellblade flies from its sheath gripped in her magic, twirling in midair and striking the revolver from his hooves, the gun skidding across the pavement.


    A flash of light emits as Seren¡¯s spellblade darts back, and Deadeye¡¯s horn lights up, conjuring a shield in retaliation to block the blade. Seren grins and charges home the rest of the distance.


    Schlnk. Before Deadeye can react, Seren¡¯s horn pierces his chest, drawing forth a hot spurt of blood before she wrenches it free, feeling its warmth as it trickles down her horn. Deadeye gasps and falls to his haunches, grasping at the wound and breathing heavily.


    ¡°The duel is over! Seren Ardorwynn of House Cadenza has won!¡± Seren doesn¡¯t bother looking to see what pony had taken the role of announcer onto themself as a mixture of jeering, booing, cheering, and clapping fills the air around her. Her spellblade finds itself once again neatly tucked into its sheath at her side as she leers over her defeated opponent. Seizing his muzzle in one hoof, she pulls his gaze up to look into her eyes, staring pitilessly back down at him.


    ¡°Pathetic. Can¡¯t win even with cheating.¡± Seren growls out. Deadeye¡¯s gaze at her is filled with unbound hatred, but his wound is deep enough that he isn¡¯t in any position to continue fighting, so he simply weakly shoves her with his uninjured side.


    ¡°You¡¯ve already won. Just leave me be.¡± He mutters, huskily. ¡°A doctor, somepony call me a doctor!¡± He follows up, louder, as he hobbles up to his hooves and staggers back towards his gun.


    Seren turns back away, casting one more look back at the disgraced aristocrat. ¡°Think twice before you commit to such a farce, next time. I won¡¯t have you sullying the aristocracy''s good name with your dishonor.¡±

 The New Industry

    <div>


    The duel had certainly seemed to put Saoirse in a good mood, as she is practically bouncing up and down with a manic grin as the duo continue their tour of the city.


    ¡°Oh, that was priceless! What I wouldn''t give to have that on tape!¡± Saoirse giggles. ¡°Good to know ya still haven¡¯t lost your touch. It¡¯s been a while since I saw you fight like that.¡±


    Seren just cocks a brow and glances over at the blank beside her. ¡°You know you could drop in whenever I¡¯m practicing, right? I¡¯ve been having sparring matches every day since the promenade.¡±


    Saoirse winces at that. ¡°Well, maybe I could, if I wasn¡¯t busy being ordered around by the headsmare constantly.¡± Her voice takes on a heavily disgruntled tone as she pokes out her tongue in a foalish display of malcontence.


    Seren just shakes her head. Saoirse never changed. The duo¡¯s conversation gives way to mundane observances of the district around them as Seren takes them further east. Lazing about or not, it would be best if when they found accommodations they were closer to their ultimate destination so that the journey would not be as far.


    As the sun begins to decline in the sky and the two mares march through the wall demarcating the boundary of the uptown district, the fiber of the city around takes on a decidedly different tone. The sprawl of buildings doesn''t change; if anything, they get even more cramped; but there is decidedly less greenery (the ivy spreading up the sides of many of the buildings notwithstanding), and the cobbled roads are replaced with concrete.


    Seren glances down at her talons as they scrape on the ground. She¡¯d heard of these things; Concrete roads had started to supplant cobblestone in some parts of the country, though the old town districts she spent her time in were not amongst them. So this is concrete, hrm? Don¡¯t think I like it very much. It didn¡¯t have as much texture as the cobbled roads, nor did it provide as good grip. Perhaps she just needs to give it time to grow on her.


    That¡¯s hardly the only change, either. The buildings are equally tall, but are built in a far more utilitarian manner. Some are brick or wattle-and-daub, but the majority are hulking titans of brutalistic concrete and steel framework, blocks of buildings that just seem to stretch ever on and on endlessly, crowding together at ill fitting angles that makes traffic an increasingly major concern.


    There are other modes of transit, too; On rare occasions, automobiles would try to crowd their way through the densely packed streets, forcing the pedestrians off to either side, while tracks for trains seemed to run through the city itself. Seren notes the latter with approval; at least not all of the city''s design is bad, it seems. She hadn¡¯t seen a train system within a city before, only between cities. She was sure Ceridwen would approve.


    The inhabitants are different here too; She¡¯s in a proper industrial district now, where aristocrats very rarely tread. While other unicorns, or pegasi, are relatively common near the castle, here the streets are almost entirely populated by soot-faced or sawdust-coated Blanks, many with hard hats or boiler suits working on innumerable construction projects. Perhaps it is little surprise then, that Seren finds herself attracting a perhaps unhealthy degree of attention; A small gang of youths who were currently in the process of spray painting something onto one of the concrete bulkheads that formed the foundation for a large factory building stops in their tracks, turning to just... stare at her.


    Seren stares back, gaze hardening. Psht, how vulgar. Her eyes trace the ¡°artwork¡± of the gang, and she sighs. If this were back home she¡¯d do something about it, but as it is, she doesn¡¯t feel like dealing with all the paperwork that would come with interfering in another duchy. She might have felt in some degree of danger given the general unruliness of her surroundings, but it was highly improbable any lowlife thug would dare try and touch a hair on the head of such an esteemed aristocrat.


    So this is the new industry I¡¯ve heard so much about. Seren Ardorwynn contemplates, strutting down the outskirts, right past the concrete mill and some manner of foundry, mixed together with housing in an increasingly haphazard manner; some of the factories even seem to have apartments built into the floors above them; Whatever allows them to cram more ponies into the city, it seems. The city was very modern, in a sense, lined with lampposts and with most of the buildings incorporating some manner of recent innovations into their construction.


    Sounds of machinery, distant pounding, road work and motors running all blend together into a disparate rumble of industrial noise, echoing through the winding concrete streets. There is far less in the way of plant life here, though plenty of the buildings are somewhat overgrown; particularly the older ones, not yet demolished to be replaced with newer, more efficient warehouses. Saoirse next to her almost gags as she looks around at the surrounding environment. ¡°Great. Away from the nobles, and straight into the factories. Wonderful.¡± She mutters underneath her breath. ¡°Ya know, Ceridwen makes technology sound much more appealling than it actually seems to be¡­¡±


    Seren wrinkles her nose, nodding her head. She was forced to agree; the smog is starting to get to her, and the noise is nearly as bad. Holding a taloned hoof over her eyes and squinting-her eyes are starting to burn in the smoke-she gazes up at the towering smokestacks above her. She¡¯d just about reached the power plant, which for being on the cutting edge of technology does not look nearly as elegant as she might have hoped. Instead, the building is festooned in a rat''s nest of catwalks, support pillars, ventilation shafts, piping, and heavy industrial doors. Whatever architect had designed the place clearly hadn¡¯t had much of a head for organization or streamlining. Or basic safety, given the crippling lack of any railings.


    Crash. Someplace inside the building, an echoing clatter sounds, along with a shrill, high-pitched, youthful shriek. Thinking on instinct at the sound of distress, Seren bucks down the door. Before even consciously processing what she is seeing, her reflexes kick in, horn lighting up with magic.


    A young colt, almost unrecognizable below the thick layer of coal dust and ash clinging to him, screams as he plummets through the air before just barely being caught within Seren telekinetic grip. Slowly, his fall deccelerates, Seren not lifting too hard as the force of instant acceleration would be just as bad as impacting the ground. Instead, she pushes against gravity just enough to halt the colt floating in midair just above ground for a moment before releasing him with a gasp, letting him fall onto wobbling legs up on one of the steel catwalks.


    It¡¯s only then that Seren is actually able to process the scene before her. Soot-stained workers all are staring at the new arrivee in shock, save those manning machinery who remain dedicatedly focused despite everything. There is a loud groaning sound from machinery cranking, with four massive mechanical apparatuses- nearly three stories tall each, equally as wide and twice as long-laid out in rows inside the facility. One is currently cracked open, a number of ponies inside its inner workings doing something-or-another that Seren can¡¯t understand. And the source of the commotion... The blank, soot-stained colt who had fallen from... Where? Seren¡¯s gaze drifts up, locating the source of the loud clang. A ventilation shaft plugging into the great machine, near the top of the great interior of the power plant, had partially collapsed, bending like an overstrained twig.


    Teleporting with a thunderous clap before the colt, the blank doesn''t seem able to notice just yet, coughing and sputtering as he struggles to get some of that ash clogging his lungs out of his system. The finesse required to help the colt with such things is outside of Seren¡¯s grasp, so she simply waits, furrowing her brows with deep concern while the colt struggles to clear his airways.


    Eventually, the colt is able to breathe a little more clearly, still wheezing and breathing raggedly but at least he¡¯s breathing instead of coughing. Raising his head, his eyes immediately go wide in shock and he bows his head low at the sight of his apparent savior. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, your gr-¡± He¡¯s cut off by another coughing fit, doubling over as he struggles to keep his composure. ¡°G-grace. It won¡¯t h-happen ag...¡± Further attempts at speaking are unable to make it out, the coughing sounding more rough and raw with every time.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Seren looks down at the pony with sympathy. She is somewhat used to her presence instilling intimidation in those around her, especially here in the south; gryphs are not a usual sight for these ponies, after all. But there is more to it this time, and Seren gets the sense the ponies shaking legs are not only because of his fall. ¡°What in heaven''s name were you doing up there?¡± Was he trying to sneak into the plant? But why would a colt even want to do such a thing?


    ¡°C-Cleaning, sir.¡± Comes the response, hoarse and afraid. ¡°The older ponies don¡¯t fit in the vents, so it''s my job to clear them out during maintenance.¡±


    Seren stares at the pony, aghast. He means to say he works here? A quick look up at the rafters reminds Seren just where he had fallen from; a claustrophobic, clogged ventilation shaft connecting to a gigantic fan; a fan that, notably, is presently running. Seren can¡¯t help but imagine what would happen if somepony were to be sucked into that apparatus; at the speed it''s moving at, even an adult stallion would be reduced to unrecognizable mincemeat, let alone a little colt like this.


    Seeing Seren¡¯s expression, the colt seems to think she is angry at him, and he cringes under her gaze. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry! There was a clog in the system and it caved in when I was working on it! I didn¡¯t mean to...¡± His voice is pleading, almost terrified. ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt me...¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt you. How did you come to work here?¡± Seren replies, voice calm and measured.


    The colt raises both brows, looking slightly taken aback by the question, shuffling nervously. ¡°Um, overseer Ashmane bought my contract from my parents so I could get into spaces the older ponies can¡¯t.¡± He states. ¡°Are you... Are you going to report me?¡±


    Seren scoffs. ¡°I¡¯ll be reporting something, alright. ¡®Overseer Ashmane¡¯, hmm? Take me to him.¡±


    <hr>


    The path to the overseers office is uneventful, every other worker standing aside with head bowed in respect to the uncommon presence of a noble in their midst. As is Seren¡¯s right, of course.


    The colt beside her looks around anxiously, keeping his head bowed down low, contrasting with Seren, whose head is held high and proudly, deepest blue mane undulled by the soot and ash that wafts through the air; it wouldn¡¯t do to let anypony know that was only because she had shielded herself the moment she¡¯d entered the building, of course. The particulates are bad enough outside, without dealing with them in here; she is sure she¡¯d be squinting by now otherwise. Not to mention the havoc the soot would wreck on her meticulously combed mane, especially as she doesn¡¯t presently have a room to go back to to redo it. The breakdown of the ventilation system had allowed an altogether unbearable level of pollutants into the air.


    Seren glares at the door, quirking her beak as she debates how to introduce herself. She could politely knock on the door, state her name and title, then continue on to her business of course. Or, she could simply bash down the door with a charged blast of magic from her horn, storm in there, and demand an explanation for the appalling working conditions.


    Seren chooses the latter.


    The door flies clean off its hinges as a streak of silvery magic blasts through it, crumpling it like paper as the mass of steel flies clean across the room before embedding itself into the opposite wall like some manner of oversized throwing dart. The pony inside just about jumps out of his skin and shrieks in surprise as Seren marches into the room, every fiber of her being invested into maintaining the imperious aura of intimidation she¡¯d cultivated.


    ¡°The working conditions at this facility are quite simply appalling! Explain yourself!¡± Seren barks out, stamping her talons down as she confronts a currently whimpering and cowering overseer of the plant. ¡°There are hardly any safety precautions taken at all, and the air tastes like charcoal! I wouldn¡¯t stomach making a beast work here, let alone a mere child! Purchasing former citizens as slaves has been outlawed for decades! And that¡¯s not even to mention the downright ghastly choice of decor!¡±


    ¡°I-What are you doing here? Who are you?¡± The overseer scrambles back, shaking with obvious jitters before the aristocrat before him. He might be in charge of the workers here, but he is still no more than a mere blank before a currently very angry unicorn.


    Seren Ardorwynn sneers imperiously as she marches right up to the cowering stallion, eyes narrowed in enmity. ¡°Lord Seren Ardorwynn of house Cadenza, heir apparent to the duchy of Luddas. Now, you will answer me.¡± She scowls and drags her perfectly manicured talons across the wooden floor as if just waiting for an opportunity to use them.


    Ashmane blinks in confusion, no doubt wondering what on earth the heiress of the eastern reach was doing here, in his factory. Doing his best to recombobulate himself, Ashmane pulls himself up to his hooves once more, doing his best to still his shaking. ¡°What in heavens are you sputtering about? I¡¯m here by the grace of his Lord Duke Powell! If you have any problems with how I run this facility, bring it up with him!¡± He tries to deflect.


    Seren Ardorwynn glares at Ashmane, debating internally. It wasn¡¯t like she held the Powell dynasty in particularly high esteem, not after the events of the promenade, but surely the ruler of an entire duchy would show more dignity than that? The duke¡¯s responsibility was to safeguard the wellbeing of his people; this place did not seem particularly ¡®safeguarded¡¯ in even the broadest terms. Surely the overseer was either lying or hiding things from the duke.


    Snarling, Seren seizes the overseer by the neck, pulling his face close to hers so that he is forced to stare directly into her viciously focused raptorial eyes. ¡°And what about the children, hmm? You can¡¯t honestly expect me to believe the duke would impugn his honor by employing slaves in such a barbaric manner.¡±


    ¡°There are no slaves here!¡± Ashmane belts back out. ¡°They are working off their contract terms! They¡¯ll be free as soon as they pay off their debts!¡±


    Seren stares aghast into Ashmane¡¯s eyes. He doesn¡¯t seem to be lying, as far as she could tell; he was probably too shaken to think of doing such a thing. But such a practice hardly seemed much different in application. ¡°What debts could they possibly have? They¡¯re just children!¡± Seren demands.


    ¡°They took out loans and now they¡¯re covering it!¡± Ashmane shoots back, grimacing. ¡°Maybe read up on current practices and law before you storm into someponies office and vandalize their equipment! Just let me down and I¡¯ll show you the contract and everything.¡±


    Seren Ardorwynn growls in disgust, and throws Ashmane down against the floor, not speaking a word as she waits for him to do as he said. Scrambling for the desk, he hastily opens the various drawers and tears through the various manuscripts under Serens ominous, watchful gaze. Finally, he presents a document to Seren. ¡°There, take a look and see! You¡¯ll see that everything is in order, and this rampage of yours is completely uncalled for!¡±


    Seren takes the contract, eyes glancing over it in disbelief, though she does also keep her ears carefully tuned to the overseers movements. ¡¯The applicant will work for a term of fifteen years to pay off a debt of one thousand-five hundred bits. Shelter and food will be provided by the employer¡¯? The bottom of the contract bears a signature, looking rather unsteady, as if written under pressure. Most of the document is written in abstract legalese, but one thing does stand out to Seren; the pony the ¡®loan¡¯ was paid out to was not in fact the colt supposedly taking it, but others with the same family name. Parents, perhaps?


    Seren hisses. She¡¯d seen enough; she might not be able to put a halt to the entire facility, outside of her jurisdiction as it is, without risking a major political incident. But she also isn¡¯t about to simply leave the situation as it is. It was the sacred charge of an aristocrat to look after the wellbeing of the commonfolk; that is what her mother had always taught her, from a young age. Lighting up her horn, she incinerates the contract to ash. ¡°Contract or no, I will not tolerate this travesty. I¡¯ll be taking your slave someplace they can work under fair conditions. And I will be reporting these conditions to your lord.¡±


    Ashmane stumbles after her. ¡°Now look here, you can¡¯t just go and rob me! I am operating this facility under the auspices of the lord duke, precisely as I was instructed to...¡± he trails off, as Seren¡¯s gaze meets his once more, clearly a mere step away from blowing a gasket, and he gulps nervously. That beak of hers sure does look sharp, doesn¡¯t it?


    ¡°I highly doubt your lord is going to start an internecine war on your behalf. Stay out of my way, or you¡¯ll end up like your door here.¡± She states, in a cold and measured tone that leaves little doubt as to her sincerity.


    The overseer does not bother her for the rest of her impromptu visit.

 Hyperaustralis

    ¡°Picked up a new companion, I see?¡± Saoirse remarks dryly, as Seren confidently struts back out of the facility to where the servant was waiting by the curb, a very meek, very frightened, and most of all very confused colt scampering along behind her.


    ¡°You saw the conditions in there! I couldn¡¯t just leave him.¡± Seren announces, glancing back at the colt who still seems unsure if he is in trouble or not. Laying down on her haunches, Seren gently approaches the colt sympathetically. ¡°Hey, I don¡¯t think I got your name.¡±


    ¡°R-Rian, sir.¡± the colt responds uncertainly, eyes flicking up to Saoirse in confusion and then back to Seren. He doesn¡¯t seem willing to say any more than what was directly asked of him, so Seren nods in confirmation.


    ¡°Alright, Rian. I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t take you somewhere safe immediately, but if you¡¯d be okay with it, I could take you in as a servant on our way back from our mission. It¡¯s not much, but you¡¯d be properly fed, clothed, and sheltered, and the conditions would be much better than that.¡± She snarls, jerking her head towards the power plant behind them.


    Looking back at Rian, the colt blinks at Seren in confusion. ¡°Y-you¡¯re¡­ asking me?¡± He sounds almost incredulous, a hint of suspicion entering his eyes.


    Seren nods her head. ¡°We still need to find a place to stay the night, once we do I could leave you with enough to stay there a few nights while we get this sorted. If you don¡¯t want to take me up on my offer, you can feel free to just take what I leave you with and go, but it would be safer to come with us when we return. You don¡¯t need to decide right now.¡±


    Rian just stands there, stunned, before shakily nodding his head. Seren levitates the colt up onto her back; perhaps a slightly more intimate gesture than she¡¯d have preferred for a lowborn stranger, but he was still tired, shaken up, and positively filthy, and having him walk behind them would slow them down. And that was unacceptable; the sun is sinking in the sky, and who knew when they¡¯d find a good place to stay?


    Actually¡­ Seren thinks. Somepony here might. Turning to the colt on her back, the gryph gets his attention before delicately asking, ¡°we still need someplace to stay for the night. Do you happen to know where we can find one?¡±


    Rian shakily nods his head, before suppressing another coughing fit; those young lungs of his sure are struggling. ¡°U-um, I know where some of the adult workers stay. It¡¯s not too far away.¡± he affirms. Seren nods in response, signalling the colt to show the way, and the three set off back into the big city.


    <hr />


    Given her location, Seren accepts the considerably below-standard lodgings with grace and dignity; Starshot of course is just happy to have a proper bed to sleep in for the second night in a row, while Rian seems too confused by recent events to even think of resting. Perhaps because of the bedding being far less comfortable than she is used to, Seren awakens early the following morning.


    ¡°Alright! First light! It¡¯s high time we get on the road.¡± Seren announces, stretching in the middle of the small, two-bed chamber they had stayed the night. Rian was curled up at the foot of her bed, and lazily opens his eyes in response to the sudden surge of movement; Already, Seren is levitating her saddlebags up onto her back.


    Saoirse Starshot groans and leans forward in bed, blinking blearily. Looking out the window, she can readily see that ¡°first light¡± is a bit of an exaggeration; the horizon has only just barely begun to brighten, still dark enough that the variety of buildings across the street are silhouetted in darkness. The sun is certainly nowhere to be seen, and the stars are still out, though fading quickly. Nothing new there; Seren always was an early bird. Gryph. Whatever. Summoning up all the energy she can, Starshot curls up like a spring before unwinding, leaping out of bed onto all fours.


    Seren barely waits for Saoirse to finish yawning before using her telekinesis to levitate his saddlebags onto her, and opening the door out to the tavern.  Immediately a variety of sensations find them: The smell of cheap booze and grilled vegetables, the sound of quiet chatter from the lobby. Seemingly, they aren¡¯t the first to get up. Jerking her head forwards, Seren motions towards the front of the establishment. ¡°We¡¯ll get breakfast, then head out.¡± Seren states, before turning to Rian, who still looks to be in a daze, though a full night''s rest had helped alleviate the worst of his coughing at least. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure the keep knows to keep you fed and lodged. If you want to return home with us, we¡¯ll be back in a week or two; otherwise, feel free to head out when you will.¡± With that out of the way, she steps out into the lobby.


    It isn¡¯t particularly busy this early in the morning, but there is a pony on duty and a hoofful sitting around the entryway; A couple of middle-aged hyperaustralans staring deep into mugs of ale, a couple of stallions in a corner talking about something or another quietly with suspicious glances around as if on the lookout for eavesdroppers, and a lone plains pony with a stern, serious expression reading something on the bulletin board posted near the exit.


    Slapping a couple coins down on the counter in front of the barkeep, Seren leans against the counter. ¡°We need breakfast, stat. I¡¯ll pay extra if you can make it snappy. We¡¯ll take some Pi¨®g an aoire if you have that.¡±


    The barkeep gulps anxiously upon seeing his clients horn, bowing steeply. ¡°Of course, your excellency. Only, I¡¯m afraid I am not familiar with...¡± He trails off, not knowing how to pronounce the phrase Seren had just said.


    Starshot rolls her eyes and props herself up on the counter as well. ¡°She means Shepherds pie.¡± She states dryly.


    The barkeep salutes. ¡°Oh! Of course, right away.¡± With that, she disappears back into the kitchen while Seren and Starshot retire to one of the round tables with their wobbly bar-stools.


    ¡°I guess having an aristocrat around does have some advantages.¡± Starshot jokes, glancing over at the kitchen with a lopsided smile. ¡°He sure looked shocked to see such privileged clientele.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully it gets him to deliver it quickly.¡± Seren states, already tapping a talon on the round table impatiently. ¡°Evander made it sound like this mission was very time sensitive, so I¡¯m impatient to get away.¡± She doesn¡¯t mention that she is also keen to leave the dingy building she is currently stuck inside of. Patience. She reminds herself, silently. A proper aristocrat does not let such things bother them. Remain focused on the mission. You¡¯ll be back home before you know it. Her adventurous spirit is waning more than a little, looking around at the stained floors and wattle-and-daub walls surrounding her.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Are you sure you even know the way?¡± Starshot questions. ¡°I know you have a map, but I saw that thing; it wasn¡¯t exactly the most detailed, it looked like it had been drawn up in a hurry. I know we¡¯re heading east, but given what we¡¯ve seen of the roads out there¡­¡± Starshot trails off.


    Seren winces; the servant had a point. That labyrinthian mess of corridors and alleyways was not particularly easy to navigate. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. I suppose we¡¯ll need to see if we can¡¯t purchase...¡± Frowning, she trails off. Somepony is standing behind her, she feels it. Looking over her shoulder, she is greeted with the stern countenance of the violet-eyed plains pony who had been surveying the bulletin board when she¡¯d first entered.


    ¡°I could not help but hear that you are unfamiliar with these parts, and in a hurry. Correct?¡± His tone is polite, but obviously not upper-crust based on his cadence and tone; there is a definitive roughness and vulgar accent to his speech which makes the courteous speech sound almost out of place.


    Seren regards the pony warily. She had been speaking too loudly, hadn¡¯t she? She had been told that this situation had to be kept under wraps, and here she is blabbering on about where she was going in a public establishment. Mentally cursing herself, Seren contemplates how best to respond. ¡°Perhaps. Do you have a map you wish to sell us?¡± She asks; it didn¡¯t seem like the best place to purchase one, but hopefully she could end the conversation without inadvertently giving away more details.


    The stallion shakes his head in response. ¡°Not quite. Allow me to introduce myself, milady; I am Daithi Ironcoin. Bounty hunter by trade, though I perform all manner of errands for both the local aristocracy and law enforcement.¡± The stallion bows his head deferentially. ¡°My work has taken me all over the region, and I am familiar with how to travel quickly and quietly in pursuit of my quarry. Might I offer my services as a guide?¡±


    Seren casts a nervous look towards Starshot. A local guide would certainly be helpful-assuming that Daithi here is telling the truth about his capabilities, that is-but if it is so important to keep the mission secret would that compromise their needs?


    Daithi must have noticed her hesitation, because he steps back, raising his head to address her once more. ¡°Allow me to assure you, I am quite used to treating matters with discretion in my line of work. You need not worry about me running my mouth; Such activities tend to be bad for the lifespan of those who work for the aristocracy.¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon Ser, what are you waiting for? You were the one talking about how we needed to get a move on.¡± Starshot interjects.


    Seren shoots the servant an irked look, before turning back to the bounty hunter. ¡°Allow me to think it over during breakfast, if you please. I will have an answer for you by then.¡±


    Daithi nods and bows one final time, graciously. ¡°Of course, milady. Take your time.¡±


    <hr>


    After ensuring the tavernkeeper knows to treat Rian with the utmost respect and dignity-the little colt deserved that much after the hellhole she¡¯d dug him out of-Seren and Saoirse are keen to set off again. And, as fate would have it, the two once again find themselves joined by an unexpected tag-along. The fee for Daithi is negligible to Seren, and she figures that having him in her employ is probably better than some stallion having heard about a foreign unicorn being on a time-sensitive, delicate mission.


    Stepping out onto the street, the sun just now beginning to crest over the horizon, Seren turns to her latest acquisition. ¡°Alright, Daithi. Come, show us the fastest way out of town. We¡¯re heading to a location in the wilderness east of here. We¡¯ll share more details once we¡¯re out of the city.¡± Seren states, rounding on her new companion and waiting for his response.


    Daithi Ironcoin salutes, and motions rearwards. ¡°There¡¯s an intracity tram system, that would be the fastest way to get to the outskirts. From there, you can head through the east-side slums, and then follow the road to a couple of small villages out that way. That would be the best place to head out cross-country.¡± The stallion explains in a professional and level tone.


    Seren winces. Slums..? If this was considered the nice part of town, she shuddered to imagine what that could mean. Oh well, there is nothing for it. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll follow your lead.¡± Seren nods, leaving the bounty hunter to lead the way down the unfamiliar, graffiti-ridden streets.


    <hr>


    Seren dismally stares out the window of the tram, taking in the expanse of dull, muddy gray cityscape that almost blends in with the overcast sky above. At the least, it seems a bit more organized than the inner city had been; all neat concrete pathways, sometimes linearly organized into rectangular blocks and sometimes a mess of gridlock. Turning her head back, Seren addresses Daithi. ¡°How long will the ride be? How far out are we going?¡±


    Daithi is there, polishing his guns while sitting back in his booth seat. It was far from luxuriant, fairly stiff plastic seating, but at least there is a decent chunk of leg room and a nice table fixed to the wall. The bounty hunter glances up and out the window in response. ¡°About twenty-five more minutes, if I had to guess. You¡¯ll be able to tell we¡¯re getting close when those concrete blocks start to give way to more makeshift structures. The tram doesn''t provide service through the slums, of course, so we¡¯ll have to go the rest of the way on hoof.¡±


    Seren nods and sits down, leaving only Saoirse staring intently out into the world. ¡°So this is what awaits me when I get out of here¡­¡± There is a subtle twinge of conflict in her voice that draws Seren¡¯s attention.


    ¡°What, something the matter? Normally you¡¯d sound more excited about that.¡± She asks, with one brow raised.


    Saoirse jerks her head away and lowers it, refusing to reply. Daithi, however, is quick to respond. ¡°You¡¯re not hyperaustralan, you wouldn¡¯t end up in one of these chunks. The outskirts were built up right-quick to accept the deluge of displaced hyperaustralans after the war. Guess this is what they found the most efficient.¡± Daithi shrugs. ¡°If you¡¯re going to try and make it on your own, you should head up north. A lot of the youth try that route, though who knows how many actually meet with any success.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯d be fine.¡± Saoirse hisses out through her teeth, continuing to stare intently out at the landscape beyond uneasily.


    The group does not speak much, as the tram reaches its destination and they disembark; perhaps it''s the uncomfortable air of their surroundings. The artificial feeling blocks of brutalist architecture steadily gives way to something less orderly but no less squalid; mounds of makeshift buildings, tents and scrapheaps cobbled together around what little older, more proper architecture had predated the slums. Instead of concrete, the paths are little more than slurries of mud and dirt here; despite that technically being a sign of less development, Seren actually finds that aspect something of a relief. The smell of cigarettes hangs heavy in the air, but at least the industrial smog has taken a back seat.


    Daithi leads them onwards, unswervingly, as the population gets lighter and lighter. Suddenly, at one end of the sole properly maintained street running through the district, the slums seem to just cut off into forest around the road, the outside lined with an erected concrete barrier considerably nicer than the buildings it¡¯s blocking from view. In the distance, the spires of a tower can be seen poking above the treeline.


    ¡°¡°I don¡¯t understand. Why do so many of them choose to live back there? Surely they don¡¯t own the property, so it¡¯s not like land laws are stopping them.¡± Saoirse asks, looking around. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better to live out here, away from all that smoke?¡±


    Daithi shakes his head without glancing back. ¡°Aristocratic estate. We¡¯re free to use the roads- Duke up in his palace makes sure his vassals aren''t running tolls, since it dries up trade-but that''s about it. You so much as think about settling down anywhere along this road, they¡¯ll have you dead to rights, clapped in chains and sold into a life of serfdom right-quick. Only ones who can make it up here are serfs working the land or outlaws on the run; And, of course, those sent to catch them, like myself.¡±  Daithi turns his head back to Seren and nods briefly. ¡°C¡¯mon, there¡¯s a good spot to camp another few miles down the road. We ought to see if we can make it there before the daylight¡¯s completely faded.¡±

 Dynastic Duties

    Ceridwen blinks to clear his blurry vision, trying yet again to focus on the manuscript before him. For whatever reason, though he had looked through the contents several times in the last few minutes, he had yet to actually figure out what it was saying. What was he even trying to read again? He can¡¯t quite seem to recall.


    Groaning, the gryph leans back and rubs his head, trying to prepare himself to try again, when there is a rapping sound at his door, and he turns back, groaning. Was it time for another lecture again already? ¡°Coming!¡± He calls out, setting down the pile of papers in his hooves with a sigh. Something is wrong with him today, he just can¡¯t seem to focus; even relatively simple matters of thermodynamics are proving difficult to wrap his head around. Privately, he blames his tutors for that; the etiquette lessons are just too exhausting.


    Pulling open the door, Ceridwen pauses momentarily in surprise to see his mother standing there rather than a servant or tutor. Beira Snowgleam peers into her son¡¯s lair with curiosity, eyes drifting over the mess before settling on Ceridwen himself and furrowing her brow in concern. Ceridwen scratches the back of his head and readjusts himself, trying to reorient his mind to figure out what his mother might want. ¡°Oh, hi, Mom. Something you need?¡±


    Beira Snowgleams frowns in concern and lifts one forelimb to raise her son''s head enough to look at him more carefully. ¡°Heavens, Ceridwen, when did you last sleep? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen black circles under your eyes this large.¡± She chides.


    Ceridwen squints, trying to think of the answer to the question. Try as he might, he can¡¯t quite recall. ¡°Um.¡± Is all the answer his mother gets, who eventually shakes her head in bemusement.


    ¡°Well, regardless. Your father¡¯s returned from his trip north, and wants to talk to you about something or another.¡± She pauses, looking her son up and down. ¡°I¡¯ll stall him for a little, so do try to clean yourself up a little, first. Go get one of the servants to comb out your mane or something.¡±


    Ceridwen groans loudly, his frame noticeably sagging. He could probably guess what this was about already. ¡°R-right, I¡¯ll get right on that.¡± It was best to do so quickly, as his father was not a patient stallion. Pulling the door open all the way, Ceridwen steps out into the hallway, him and his mother retreating in opposite directions towards their respective destinations.


    <hr>


    I wish Seren was here¡­ Ceridwen grumbles, looking into the mirror at his neatly combed but incredibly boring mane. Whether he liked it or not, the fact remained that she was good at giving makeovers, and right now, he needed one right-quick. A dozen minutes of servants fussing over him had only been able to do so much but, hopefully he at least looked presentable; His father wouldn¡¯t take kindly to him not looking his best all the time. The gryph can almost hear his voice in his mind; ¡®what if a dignitary was to show up tomorrow, hrm? You¡¯d be completely unprepared¡¯, blah blah blah, what a bunch of drivel.


    There was nothing for it, he couldn¡¯t delay the meeting no matter how he might want to. So he sets his jaw, tries to cordon off his present disgust for his father to the rearmost corner of his mind, and trots on down the hall towards the family¡¯s dining room. Just about a minute later he finds himself at the gates, and after a moment trying to rehearse himself, presses them open. Though it wasn¡¯t strictly a formal occasion, Evander and Beira were dressed as though it was, a formal suit and dress respectively as they sat across from eachother at the table.


    Stepping past the guards as though they weren¡¯t there, Ceridwen bows his head low, wearing the most solemn expression he can manage and leaning backwards in the process, just as shown in his classes. Though it slightly sickens him to show this much deference to his father after seeing his true colors at the promenade, he could swallow his pride for the sake of keeping the dastard off his back; hopefully he¡¯d be able to get out of these etiquette lessons soon enough if he applied himself fully.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough. Stand up, come over here.¡± Evander requested. It wasn¡¯t the full length of a formal bow but, of course, Evander didn¡¯t actually care about formality; It was just another tool to use to ingratiate himself and his family in the eyes of other aristocrats. Here, with just the three of them, getting to the point was more important. So, as requested, Ceridwen stood straight upright and walked to his father¡¯s side. Though it wasn¡¯t strictly necessary, he kept up his posture and walked precisely as his instructors had shown him, just to try and show progress if nothing else.


    ¡°Of course, Father.¡± Despite his best attempts, Ceridwen can¡¯t help but feel his eyelids drooping; rather than let it give him away, he lowers his head deferentially to cover it up and places one hoof over his chest. ¡°How may I serve the family?¡±


    Surprisingly, for once in his life, Evander actually seems suitably impressed. ¡°Somepony has certainly been taking your lessons to heart. Please, sit down.¡± As soon as Ceridwen did as requested, Evander leans forwards. ¡°I should hope that your mother has mentioned House Donovan¡¯s offer to you?¡±


    Ceridwen pauses, hesitating, as his tired brain attempts to connect the dots. House Donovan had been the house of his father before he married his mother, so that meant¡­ Before he can get there, his father sighs in exasperation. ¡°Of course not. Well, my sister¡¯s daughter, Aoife Highrock, is looking into her prospects around now and their family is interested in you to help maintain connections with our house. You may remember her, the two of you spent a few summers together as foals. Now, I will admit that House Donovan has not the primacy of our own, but they are still valuable allies and would likely take offense to a rejection. Given your failure to make any connections during the promenade, it seems like it may be your best option. There is nothing official yet, but they will be visiting tomorrow, and we need to ensure you make a good impression.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Oh, yes, that¡¯s what he was talking about. The way Evander speaks of it almost makes Ceridwen do a double take; his reference to the family he¡¯d come from was so dispassionate, it sounds more like he was talking about a foreign nation than his own sister. Ceridwen nods his head and looks his father in the eye. ¡°Of course, Father, I remember her. I just forgot her house¡¯s name momentarily, that is all.¡±


    Evander frowns, narrowing his eyes as he scans Ceridwen¡¯s features. ¡°Hrm. You may be doing well in your classes, but your presentation is clearly lacking. How long has it been since you slept last, boy?¡±


    If it wasn¡¯t Evander speaking, Ceridwen might have felt insulted to be referred to that way; but it was Evander, so he didn¡¯t bother thinking about it. ¡°I can¡¯t quite remember, sir.¡± He responds, honestly. Whatever the number was, it probably wouldn¡¯t make his father happy anyways.


    Evander sighs heavily. ¡°Perhaps I went too heavy with the lessons after all¡­ It won¡¯t do if you¡¯re practically falling asleep while meeting with her.¡± He mutters, more to himself than anything, before turning his sharp gaze back to Ceridwen. ¡°Very well. Take the day off and ensure you are fully rested for tomorrow.


    Ceridwen blinks, surprised; that was uncommonly gracious for his father. Of course it wasn¡¯t truly for his benefit, but even so. He would have to take a break from his current studies, however; His father would probably be outraged if he took advantage of the time off just to further pursue his interests rather than ready himself for the engagement tomorrow. ¡°Of course. Thankyou, father.¡± Ceridwen carefully responds.


    Just about then, the doors behind them open, releasing the wafting smell of tantalizing food behind them. Ceridwen cranes his neck over to see the servants entering the chamber, bringing trays of food with them; His father had seemingly picked out something extravagant on his way home, judging by the unfamiliar aroma. ¡°Ah, perfect timing.¡± Evander proclaims. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more tomorrow before she arrives. For now, best to keep up your energy.¡±


    <hr>


    Ceridwen hangs his head low as he marches back up towards his bedroom. Dinner-or had it been lunch?-had been delectable, but there was still something bugging him. Dismally looking out through the window, Ceridwen rears up to survey the forest in the distance past the city. Much to his chagrin, he hadn¡¯t been outside of the palace in almost two weeks now.


    He just hadn¡¯t had time with everything happening, nor was that looking like it was changing anytime soon. His wings longed to stretch themselves in the open sky; he could practically feel his athleticism withering without maintenance; Mentally, the gryph makes a note to visit the palace¡¯s instructor for some exercise, when he had a chance; perhaps he would have time to do that on his rest period? It would make it easier to sleep, anyhow.


    Perhaps inevitably, the gryph finds his mind wandering back to the recent meeting. He¡¯d gotten off easily enough; no lectures nor criticism to speak of, he¡¯d done just about exactly what his father wanted. Ceridwen can¡¯t help but snort at the thought. When did I become such a wallflower..?  He ponders, sardonically. All that he¡¯d done the past week had been exclusively for his father¡¯s benefit. Sighing, Ceridwen steps back from the window, turning away.


    I guess I can understand how Mom ended up  where she is. He can¡¯t help but think. In a way, he almost wished that his father was more¡­ Vitriolic, or argumentative. Instead, he was irritatingly reasonable as long as you were doing your ¡®duty to the house¡¯, making it harder to mentally justify not just going along with it. And the more he did that, the more his life was dictated by the stallion¡¯s whims. Why was he doing everything Evander wanted, like he himself was a servant? Why did his every move seem to twist into service to that dastard, who didn¡¯t even care about him?


    Ceridwen huffs, growing increasingly agitated as he walks down the halls, first breaking into a trot, then a canter. Why were things like this? It isn¡¯t like he¡¯s Seren, he doesn¡¯t even have the luxury of looking forwards to receiving his own inheritance; Rather, males are expected to marry into other families. So is this just going to be his life until he left home behind for good? Gritting his teeth, he eventually launches himself off the ground entirely, his wings beating the air as he crashes straight through the heavy doors blocking his way to the outside, the iron-shod gates flying open as he ascends into the air, huffing. He hadn¡¯t particularly meant to come out here, it had just kind of¡­ Happened.


    Part of him wants to scream his frustrations out, but another part knows he¡¯d just be in for another grandstanding lecture from his father for making such a big scene. Why did he care about that so much? Just convenience? How had something as simple as that kept him so restrained..? Was he some kind of coward? No, more like a dog seeking approval. The thought sickens him, and he rockets down back to the ground, landing heavily on all fours panting from the sudden exertion he had thrown himself into.


    ¡°Damnit¡­ Damnit.¡± Ceridwen hisses out to himself, the burning anger he¡¯d felt just a moment ago suddenly giving way to resignation. This was just how things were, the course of his life had been dictated for him from the moment he was born. I hope I can at least stay in touch with mom, Seren, and Saoirse when I have to leave. He didn¡¯t know if that was a realistic hope; To leave Escratero he¡¯d have to be hundreds of kilometers away at the minimum, and he¡¯d probably have to avoid seeing Saoirse to look ¡®proper¡¯, too. A noblestallion being caught spending so much time with another house''s servant mare would cause all kinds of scandal if anypony found out. Closing his eyes, Ceridwen just breathes out another ¡°Damnit.¡±


    Suddenly feeling exhausted, the pegasus heads towards his room with his head down towards the ground. It was just how things were; he¡¯d have to learn to live with it. Even if he truly did not want to. Coming to a crux in his path, Ceridwen pauses; he is supposed to be getting rest, he knows, but right now he just needs something else to focus on.


    Uncertainly, he turns down the hall towards his observatory; sleep would have to wait. For now, he needs his beloved books.

 Court Relations

    <div>


    The following day, Ceridwen stares into the mirror in his room. He hadn¡¯t gotten enough sleep to compensate for however long he had been up before-it had to have been at least two days, maybe three-but it was at least enough to mostly dispel the image of a chronic insomniac. Much to his dismay, however, he had been forced to wear some makeup under his eyes to help cover the dark circles.


    Alright, come on. It surely can¡¯t be as bad as lessons. ¡­Right? Ceridwen attempts to psych himself up, hopping from hoof to hoof to get the blood flowing. It had been years since he¡¯d seen his cousin last; to be entirely honest, he wasn¡¯t sure he actually remembered anything about her beyond basic appearance. Hopefully, she was still partial enough to him, the whole situation would become unbearably uncomfortable otherwise.


    A knock on his door informs him that his time is up. Taking a deep breath, he steps back and opens the door, all but completely zoning out as he is led to the dining room. Only after he steps into the chamber across from the pony in question, does he properly regain his faculties.


    ¡°Sir Ceridwen, it¡¯s been far too long.¡± A gryph mare whom Ceridwen can only barely recognize curtsies from across the room. Flicking his gaze to the mare¡¯s shoulders and then to her forehead, Ceridwen hesitates for a brief moment before bowing; No horn nor wings. And considering the lack of the other more extravagant features that marked Kirin, Elementals, or some of the other more rare forms of Ascended ponies, that could only mean¡­


    Earth Ponies were decidedly uncommon; It was fairly rare for an aristocrat to have the temperament for such an Ascension. At first glance, they resemble Blanks more so than anything; But looking closer would reveal the stone hooves and hefty builds that mark them apart. Nopony had mentioned Highrock¡¯s ascension, though Ceridwen supposes he might have guessed had he thought about the name more in depth; When he knew Highrock as foals, neither of them had ascended, so this was a surprise to him. Silently, he notes Aoife Highrock¡¯s gaze flicking to his own wings, noting them briefly before she resettles upon his face.


    That is neither here nor there; for now, there is protocol to follow. Ceridwen is all too aware of his father¡¯s gaze, as well as the matriarchal form of another Gryph that somewhat resembles Evander from across the room. He would have to be extra careful to be on his best behavior today, no matter how disdainful he might be. Standing up from his bow, Ceridwen places one hoof across his chest in a gesture that appears far more sincere than it really is. ¡°The feeling is mutual, Aoife. Or should I call you Highrock now?¡± Ceridwen asks, offering one hoof forwards.


    ¡°Aoife is fine.¡± The mare responds, taking Ceridwen¡¯s hoof and allowing him to lead her to the banquet table-just as taught. Every action feels so stifling, knowing it is little more than a preset routine, almost like a ritual. Only this ¡®ritual¡¯ doesn''t actually accomplish anything, unlike magic. Nothing besides keeping Evander off my back, at any rate. Ceridwen can feel the eyes of the stallion and mare, once brother and sister, boring into him and his potential match; he wonders if Aoife feels it, too, or if she was as oblivious as Seren had been until recently.


    As was typical for these types of things, food had been laid out prior to the arrival of the two mares, though it is really only appetizers in preparation for a heftier dinner later that night. Ceridwen places himself at around the midsection of the table, pulling out a chair for Aoife Highrock to join him as he folds his wings back against his sides. The silence hangs in the air for a long moment, before Ceridwen eventually determines the other pony is waiting for him to speak first, and he hastily has to construct some manner of conversation to fill the space.


    ¡°It¡¯s been what, ten years since we last met?¡± Ceridwen asks, pouring a cup of tea for himself and his guest. ¡°I can only hope they¡¯ve been as good to you as they have to me.¡± Ceridwen starts. When there is no immediate response, he continues, ¡°I¡¯m currently working on a prototype for a different kind of engine that doesn¡¯t use pistons, I¡¯ve been evaluating boron based fuels and...¡± Ceridwen pauses, trying to figure out how to swing this conversation in another direction; The mare¡¯s eyes were totally vacant, he somehow doubted she heard a word he had just said. He knows talking about himself so much is probably bad form but, he had just been desperate to think of something. ¡°...Well, it¡¯s been taking up a lot of my time. I have to wonder just what you¡¯ve been up to? Pick up any hobbies?¡±


    Much to Ceridwens relief, the mare in question does in fact perk up at that. ¡°Oh, most certainly! In fact, I brought a sample of my produce with me.¡± Raising one hoof, Aoife snaps two of her talons together-Ceridwen can only look on enviously, he¡¯d never been able to figure out how to do that-and two of her family¡¯s servants, invisibly standing on the sidelines, rush to her side to deliver a fine wooden cask as well as two crystal glass wineglasses, as Aoife grins proudly. ¡°A gift for your family, straight from our vineyards. Escratero grows the best grapes, you know.¡±


    Ceridwen looks on with a distinctive sinking feeling, doing his best to keep that from entering his expression. With Evander and Aoife both watching, he certainly wasn¡¯t going to get out of it now. Taking a deep breath, and trying to pretend that he hadn¡¯t, he picks up the wineglass and tries not to think about all the brain cells he would inevitably be losing today.


    Turning the spigot with one talon, he fills up the glass with a dark reddish-magenta fluid, almost black where it is deepest, before lifting it to his beak with trepidation. He¡¯d had plenty of practice controlling facial expressions lately; even so, keeping the disgust off his face when he downs the bitter, astringent beverage as quickly as possible is still difficult. He still can¡¯t quite fathom how other ponies liked this stuff. Summoning all of his wits about him, he forces a positive expression to his face and nods slowly.


    ¡°Bone-dry, hrm? Hints of¡­ Cranberry, I believe, yes? Somepony has refined tastes.¡± He remarks, almost utterly at odds with his internal feelings. He might not enjoy the flavor but, his mind is as analytical as always-at least, for the next few minutes before the drink starts affecting him-and he can still detect the undertones of flavor in the stuff. He¡¯d spent enough time in aristocratic circles to know roughly what he is supposed to be complimenting, at least.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Very astute!¡± Aoife responds, beaming. ¡°Most of our product is sweeter, but I really find the dryest wine to have such a richer flavor profile without the sugar masking it.¡± She explains, filling up her own glass. ¡°I brewed this batch myself specially for my visit. Apologies that I couldn¡¯t bring aged wine, our vineyard is rather young you see.¡± She apologizes, as she takes a sip of her own concoction.


    I suppose I can¡¯t get away with just the one drink, hrm? Ceridwen ponders with a sinking feeling. Well, at least the conversation was going¡­ And so are your neurons. He can¡¯t help but sardonically remark internally. He was almost tempted to go off on a tangent about the various negative health effects of the brew-he knew them all by heart, naturally-but manages to hold his tongue and force himself to take another sip.


    Regretfully, Ceridwen stares towards the window, pondering and wishing internally that he could have been the one to leave the palace, and Seren could be the one stuck here in his place.


    <hr>


    ¡°Sho normally, electrical transmission in combustion engines are considered to be less effishen¡­ Efficient than direct drive, because there¡¯s additional energy losses from converting the shaft horsepower into electricity, then from there back to electricity in the motor¡­ hic¡­ But! That¡¯s only ¡®cuz the whole thing is based on generators which are essentially just kinetic drives being used to drive a generator! If you¡¯re converting thermal energy to electric directly, or even making chemical to electricity like in a fuel cell, you kin get higher first-stage efficiency that offsets thermodynamic inneffishen¡­ In-e-fish-shen-seas¡­ heh, fish in seas¡­ later in the system!¡± Ceridwen rambles on, drawing his hooves across the table like there is a diagram there despite there being no such thing. Aoife stares listlessly out the window, not hearing a word of the monologue.


    ¡°So! I¡¯ve been working on a pyrolectak¡­ Pyrelektrik¡­ Pyroelectric! ¡­Ugh, what was I just talking about again?¡± Ceridwen holds a talon up to his head, wincing as he struggles to sift through the hazy fog that is his thoughts. ¡°Right! The¡­ Um, wait, no¡­¡± he goes on like that for some time, constantly seeming to remember before spacing out once more, before finally settling on an answer. ¡°..A generator, which would use heat generated in the combustion chamber to heat and cool a system of crystals to generate power! Now schemes like that have been tried before, but what¡¯s special about mine is it uses a molten salt fuel stored around the combustion chamber¡­ Hic¡­ An¡¯ pumps it into the combustion chamber along with enriched oxygen filtered through a syshtem of¡­ of¡­¡±


    Ceridwen¡¯s gaze becomes distant before he coughs and continues without finishing that thought. ¡°So the magnetism of the fluid is activated by the electricity flowing through the crystals, an¡¯ makes the fluid around the chamber magnetic! So then the hot side of the crystals, itself generating a potent magnetic field, rotates towards the cold outer fuel side, making sure the hot side continuously aligns itself with the coolant to allow a consis¡­ Conshistent temperature gradient!¡± Ceridwen looks proud of having gotten that thought out, while nopony else in the room responds in any way to what he had said. Thankfully, Evander and his once-sister had retired to some other room to discuss business, so Ceridwen and Aoife are largely left to their own devices to ¡®catch up¡¯.


    Oblivious to the other ponies'' disinterest, Ceridwen furrows his brow and squints as he struggles to remember the rest of the reactor''s design features; he¡¯d written pages and pages upon the topic, so surely there is more to it than just that, right? But the haze of inebriation thwarts his every attempt, and he is left to just slouch against the table in disgust. ¡°Blegh¡­¡± That was that topic all done, but he had to keep thinking¡­ Of things to talk about. No, distractions! Distractions to make sure he didn¡¯t say anything monumentally stupid. As long as he never got a chance to think about¡­ What was he supposed to not think about again? He can¡¯t quite remember, but he supposes that is for the best.


    Even so, that isn¡¯t enough to dispel the frustration that came with this, as he hops up to his hooves and begins pacing about, head hanging low to the ground and huffing in irritation. He loathed how his brain became like this; So slow and sluggish, like his thoughts were molasses trying to pour out of a¡­ Something. He¡¯d felt this way a few times when he wasn¡¯t drunk, enough to have fairly firmly set his opinion as ¡®not enjoyable in the slightest¡¯.


    ¡°So¡­ Sir Ceridwen.¡± The mare finally interrupts his pacing. Ceridwen looks over at her in a daze; the mare obviously could hold her alcohol much better than him. That wasn¡¯t particularly surprising, since just about anypony save maybe Seren could hold their alcohol better than him, he swore he must have had something wrong with his neurons, or maybe kidneys, to make him extra susceptible. Wait, no, it''s the liver, isn¡¯t it? He can¡¯t remember. ¡°How have you fared in less¡­ Intellectual pursuits?¡± She asks; at any other point in time, Ceridwen would have easily noticed she was just trying to change the topic.


    At this moment, however, the young gryph stallion just perks up recognizing another opportunity for conversation. A hopefully easier conversation, even, since most of his interests are very difficult to comprehend while inebriated. ¡°Oh, yes!¡± he exclaims. ¡°Well, I can¡¯t claim to be quite as good as Seren, but I was taking fencing lessons with Silverthorn. Well, I was, until the promenade, then Evander had me take etiquette lessons.¡± Ceridwen babbles, noticeably wilting at the last statement, and not noticing the verbal slip of referring to his father by name-typically he only did that in his head.


    ¡°Akshully, it really came in handy then, ¡®cause a stallion tried to rape Seren, but I managed to get there in time.¡± The pegasids mood noticeably dampens as he thinks about that, clenching his talons and becoming utterly unreceptive to the clear discomfort of the other pony at the subject, clearly not fit for polite conversation. ¡°I didn¡¯t kill him, though. For some reason. I could have. I really should have. Why didn¡¯t I kill him? He tried to rape my sister!¡± His tone of voice raises dramatically as he speaks, flapping his wings unthinkingly and ascending slightly into the air before collapsing back down onto his chair with a spontaneous Thud.


    ¡°Well, sho, I must be doin¡¯ alright cuz I beat the daylights out of him, and he was pretty strong, so I think I¡¯m pretty good!¡± He continues cheerily, seemingly perking up again. ¡°How about you? Anything else going on other than your¡­ vineyards?¡± Just in time, Ceridwen barely recalls he wasn¡¯t supposed to insult the other ponies'' interests, and manages to leave it at that.


    ¡°Oh, um, yes, of course.¡± Aoife Highrock mentions, stoically. ¡°Well, now that we¡¯re all caught up, perhaps you could show me around the estate? It¡¯s really been much too long since I¡¯ve been.¡± She states in an apologetic tone.


    Ceridwen nods his head and pulls himself up to his hooves. ¡°Of course, milady. Shall we be off?¡± His tone is just a bit too exaggerated, a bit too flamboyant, but his acquiescence at least feels earnest enough as he offers a hoof to Aoife. Relieved just to be able to escape from the endless rambling, Aoife accepts the gesture with grace, and allows herself to be led off for a tour of the palace.

 The Forbidden P. 1

    Daithi eyes his two companions-or should he say clients?-with a mixture of impatience and curiosity. The sun hadn¡¯t yet crested over the horizon, but the two of them had been up before he had, which in itself was somewhat unusual. More unusual is what he had caught the two of them doing; tucked into an alcove to the side of the trio¡¯s campsite, the two mares are huddled around a large, elaborate looking tome, seemingly discussing its contents.


    It¡¯s already strange enough that a servant and noble seem to be on such casual terms, from what Daithi had seen. Far more strange, is the subject of their conversation; though most of it goes clean over his own head, it sounds as though they are discussing magical theory. For his own part, he struggles to tune it out; Knowing such things could be dangerous for a commoner. Even so, to an analytical pony like Daithi, it''s not possible to fully lock them out.


    ¡°...It¡¯s important to remember that the magic imbued in an artifact builds off of the existing physical properties of the object, so picking a base which is appropriate reduces the strain it requires.¡± Seren was instructing Saoirse. ¡°That¡¯s particularly important for you, since you don¡¯t have an internal reserve of magic to draw from.¡±


    Saoirse winces at the reminder. Ritualcraft could, strictly speaking, be done by anypony, but it was certainly much easier for a unicorn who could use their own sorcery to expedite the process dramatically; for a blank like Saoirse, the only option was to find other sources of power. Disenchantment of magical items is generally the easiest route, but acquiring those magical items¡­ That was difficult.


    But, almost as if following Saoirse¡¯s dismay at the concept, Seren unfolds another tome-a much older, and less elaborate seeming book. ¡°Now, I know you¡¯ve had difficulty with finding reagents for that, so I went and tracked this down in the archives. Take a look.¡± Blowing the dust off the cover, Seren hands the book to Saoirse, who raises one eyebrow in interest.


    ¡°¡®Ambient magic: A study on the applications of atmospheric magic to Ritualcraft¡¯...¡± Saoirse reads the title aloud, before flipping through a few of the pages and skimming the contents, quickly becoming engrossed.


    ¡°The techniques never caught on, since even for a pegasus or earth pony using their own magic was generally a faster methodology than trying to trap the radiant magic from the sun or moon or volcanoes or whatever else.¡± Seren explains, taking a sip from her flask. ¡°But I figured they¡¯d be useful to you. Nothing required to capture magic save a few ritual circles, only reagent needed is arcane chalk.¡±


    Saoirse nods, becoming increasingly excited as she looks. ¡°I looked for something like this, but I wasn¡¯t able to find anything! Where did you find it?¡± The servant looks over at Seren with keen interest.


    ¡°I had it ordered special from Escratero.¡± Seren explains. ¡°It was one of the few Hyperaustralan texts that survived the war, drifted around and ended up in a museum in some town up north. No clue how it came to be that far away, but I sent a request a few months back.¡±


    Daithi clears his throat, standing up and getting the two¡¯s attention. ¡°Ahem. Whatever it is that you¡¯re doing¡­¡± Daithi makes a point of seeming as though he hadn¡¯t heard a word of it, despite having captured most of the conversation. ¡°...You should leave it for later. Sun¡¯s coming over the mountains now, we should get a move on.¡±


    Seren and Saoirse glance at each other, sigh, and reluctantly nod their heads. ¡°Very well. Hold onto that book, hopefully you¡¯ll get a chance to read some of it later.¡± Seren instructs Saoirse, standing up and retrieving her enchanted saddlebags to begin packing their supplies back into them.


    Saoirse grumbles as usual, but nods and places the books back in her own satchel. ¡°Which way are we even going now? We got out of the city, so now what?¡±


    Seren and Daithi both glance at eachother as if hoping the other knew; Seren of course hadn¡¯t filled in Daithi on the exact specifics of their destination, and she certainly didn¡¯t know exactly where to find it, so¡­ Her horn ignites as she retrieves and unfolds the rough map she had been given.


    Daithi can''t help but snort at the crude drawing. ¡°What, did a foal draw this?¡± He asks, sardonically while scanning the page. ¡°Exactly what is it we¡¯re looking for? Map or no, finding an arbitrary location in the forest isn¡¯t going to be easy. I assume there must be something there you¡¯re seeking?¡±


    Seren hesitantly nods. She should be discrete, but a couple details surely wouldn''t give away¡­ whatever it is her father was afraid would be given away. ¡°Brigand camp, should be right on the border with Escratero.¡±


    Daithi peers up at Seren with some mixture of interest and suspicion. ¡°Brigands? You came all the way out here, just to do a bounty hunter¡¯s job..?¡±


    Seren clenches her jaw in frustration, and shakes her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know much more than you about my task. All I know is I¡¯d better get it done, so I can return to my own concerns.¡± Evander rarely sent her out on missions like this, and there was no telling how long it would take her; It should be easy to justify spending another few nights down here, poking around for opportunities. She¡¯d made up her mind to seek her own destiny some time ago, but she still didn¡¯t know exactly what her plan would be, and she wasn¡¯t quite so reckless as to leave behind all of the family¡¯s assets without even knowing where she was going.


    Daithi studies her face for a long moment, before shrugging. Long as her coin¡¯s good, I suppose that''s all I need. ¡°Alright then, well, if it''s an encampment like you say it shouldn''t be too hard to find. Let¡¯s seek a higher vantage so I can get my bearings, then I¡¯ll be able to tell you exactly which way to go. Should be able to see the landscape well enough from the mountain pass out east.¡± He affirms. They¡¯d have to pass through the northern reaches of the Transaustralan mountains anyways, might as well take advantage of the altitude to see the terrain while up there.


    Seren nods. ¡°Lead away, then.¡±


    <hr />


    The journey the rest of the way to the pass is fairly easy; Although somewhat ill maintained, a road is still a road, and this region isn¡¯t particularly wild anyways. The surroundings seem to almost randomly shift between wilderness, and tracts of land held by aristocratic estates, surrounded by castle towns and lowly farming dwellings. Seren notes the latter; A certain code of conduct was held by the aristocracy, and so if she ever found herself in dire need of shelter, any given one of the small castles would be a suitable place to rest. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Having said that, it was better to avoid that if possible; both because her relatively high ranking amongst her peers and the isolation of her present position would invite unwanted questions regarding what she was up to precisely. Besides, she knows Saoirse would far rather camp in the woods than be stuck in yet another aristocratic estate.


    The climb up the pass is certainly somewhat more arduous, but the path was built for wagons, and later cars, to traverse; One even drove past the trio as they walked. Silently, Seren has to wonder why there aren¡¯t any train lines heading out this way, considering that the local authorities had clearly felt the need for some kind of infrastructure.


    On the way up the hoofhills, Seren pauses to take a look back the way they¡¯d come. Contrary to her initial impressions, the forest was certainly not a monolithic entity; rather, huge swathes of it had been cleared in web-like patterns for roads, logging camps, farms and squalid housing. Just before the pass even, there was a small Hyperaustralan town-always in the shadow of some looming manor, even if they were extremely simple in construction compared to a palace from back home.


    It wasn¡¯t exactly the picture of Hyperaustralis she¡¯d gotten from history books, a forested frontier civilization; on the contrary, it was much more of an endless sprawl of hovels, farms, dirt paths, apartment blocks, and who knows what else. Shaking her head, Seren returns her attention to the mountain pass. Sooner she finished her mission, the sooner she could leave this trash heap of a duchy.


    So it is that when the group reaches the highest point of the pass, and the landscape beyond comes into view, Seren finds herself both surprised and relieved. The scene ahead is a far cry from the one she had come from, as while a small number of farms are still visible most of the landscape is taken up by actual bona fide forest. A single road disappears into the brush leading forwards, while a coach house is stationed just off to the side overlooking the expanse.


    Daithi pauses, and turns back to Seren. ¡°This is as high as the road will take us. I¡¯ll climb the mountain a ways to get a better view of the terrain. You don¡¯t have to come with, if you¡¯d rather rest.¡± The bounty hunter informs the noble matter of factly.


    Seren eyes him slightly dubiously. Him wanting to go off on his own did seem slightly suspicious, but try as she might she can¡¯t actually think of any particular skullduggery he could be up to; after all, it wasn¡¯t like he even knew they were coming here until relatively recently. So, she nods her head. ¡°Sure, go on ahead. Saoirse and I will see if we can¡¯t get a bite to eat.¡± She pauses for a second, then tilts her head. ¡°You want anything?¡±


    Daithi blinks at the offer, taken off-guard. ¡°Um, sure, I suppose. Anything will do, I assume they probably have hayburgers.¡± He remarks, slightly surprised. That wasn¡¯t exactly how these assignments usually went; Seren was definitely an odd one, as far as aristocrats went. And that wasn¡¯t even to mention how oddly casual she was with her servant, they were even on a first name basis. Shrugging it off, he turns towards the hill and climbs to seek a higher vantage.


    <hr />


    The journey into the wilderness, assisted only by the crude map supplied by Evander, progresses for almost a week before the trio catch any sight of their destination. On the horizon, poking above the canopy, is some manner of stone building; out here, any such structure was unusual, as the few signs of ponish inhabitation the group had seen largely consisted of farms along the roads. Hyperaustralans were not common here, as the Powell¡¯s had not seen fit to relocate their conquered subjects near the undeveloped border regions near Escratero; rather, the natives of these parts are largely bicorns, relatively independent from civilization in their small villages or collections of farmsteads in the foothills and highlands.


    No wonder the border is considered nebulous. Seren notes, looking around; the frontier lands here, not too far from the eastern wilderness, seem poorly distinguished from the rocky highlands of eastern Escratero, where Iweriuan civilization gives way to the untamed expanse beyond.


    Mountains to the south and northwest probably demarcated the boundary between the duchies, but the broad swathe of forested lowlands in between would be harder to delineate. The only question then, is why that actually matters; just what ¡®strategic value¡¯ could there possibly be to this lightly populated hinterland? She supposes it was closer to the coastline than the normal route that went through the mountains and might make a faster route between Hyperaustralis and Luddas, but she had heard of no plans to develop it and even if she had, that wouldn¡¯t explain why secrecy or the precise location of the border was so important.


    So caught up in her thoughts regarding the problem was she, that Seren doesn¡¯t even immediately notice Daithi trying to get her attention, until the bounty hunter stops directly in her path waving his hooves to try and get through to her. ¡°O-oh, sorry. Is something the matter?¡± Seren asks, broken from her reverie.


    Daithi points one hoof southeast, raising one brow in the most nonplussed expression she¡¯d seen him wear yet. ¡°...Did you forget why we¡¯re out here or something? Just look.¡± When Seren follows where he was pointing, she finds the sight of some manner of stone structure poking above the forest canopy in the distance, maybe fifteen kilometers away. Concentric rings of stonework poke over the canopy, each one taller than the ones around it, like an architectural matryoshka doll in a vaguely conical shape. ¡°Have to say, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d call that a ¡®tower¡¯, but it seems to be roughly in the correct location anyways. I assume that¡¯s what we¡¯re looking for?¡± Daithi continues, looking over at Seren, who hesitantly nods.


    ¡°I can only assume so.¡± The unicorn frowns slightly, considering. Part of her wants to investigate the strange structure first, but with herself already in the area as the ruffians she¡¯d been sent after it would likely be a better idea to pursue them first and investigate later. There would be time after her mission was complete, so she instead tilts her gaze northwards, into the foothills near the mountains; the valley right here was largely unoccupied, though farms were visible both to the west and east where the domain is more obviously Hyperaustralan or Escraterese. ¡°Or more accurately, it should be north of there. Keep an eye out for tracks. There should be an encampment in the foothills somewhere.¡± Silently, Seren ponders that; would they even still be there? It had been some time since she was sent on this mission, and who knew how old the intelligence was. Hopefully the group wouldn¡¯t end up having to track them through the forest, that would cost precious time, and her legs are already quite sore from days of continuous hiking.


    <hr />


    Thankfully for Seren and the rest of her companions, the targets of their search have neither moved on nor are they particularly well hidden. A series of woven tents was visible below the hill, easily enough found by the smoke trailing up from a hooffull of fires.


    ¡°To be clear.¡± Daithi interjects, frowning from where he was lying prone along with Seren and Saoirse on the rocky outcropping they were resting. ¡°I was only paid for pathfinding. If you want me to help fight, then I¡¯m going to need something more substantial.¡± Silently, Daithi adds that it would have to be quite the impressive payment, too; That encampment is not small, there are probably at least a dozen ponies living there presently judging by the tracks. He would not even consider going near it, on his own; with the aristocrat present, he might be able to be convinced for a substantial enough sum¡­


    But there was no need for him to worry about that, as Seren simply stands up to her full height, raising her head high and stretching her forelimbs. ¡°No need. Saoirse, with me. Daithi can wait here for our return.¡± The gryph unicorn announces, the flexible edges of her beak tilting up in a predatory smile. ¡°Stay close, I¡¯ll keep you safe.¡±


    Saoirse nods, standing up, and glancing around a bit anxiously. Is there going to be fighting¡­? I don¡¯t have a weapon, and I¡¯ve never¡­ The blank¡¯s thoughts trail off as her gaze settles on her satchel. Combat was not exactly something she was experienced in, but, perhaps she could put all those lessons from Seren to good use. Staying with her was likely safer anyways; being alone off in the woods, if somepony came by and recognized her as a threat she could end up being shot without even seeing it coming.