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2744 14.89 KB 154
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“Very good, Now tell me where records of Her Majesty’s hosting of the Six Pillars may be found.”
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>Her Highness, Princess Nova Spark stares at you for several seconds before responding. “Third cabinet, first row, fourth column, second section.”
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>Your turn to stare for several seconds.
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>Then glance down at your coffee mug
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>Empty.
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>You’re starting to turn behind you when Nova speaks again. “You’re out of coffee, Ms. Inkwell.”
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>You turn back to face her,
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“How did-”
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>”It’s the third time you’ve looked in the past hour.”
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>You shake your head.
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>Oh, that was a bad move. Little dizzy there, Raven.
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>”Ms Inkwell?”
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“Do not worry on my behalf. Please fetch the most recent record from that set.”
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>Nova nods, then walks through a side door into the records room.
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>Once stopped in front of the proper cabinet, she uses those strange bird-like claws on her wings to open the correct drawer and sift through it.
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>She has the whole records room memorized.
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>No, not memorized. How did she explain it?
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>There’s an index of sorts, in a file in her head. She wrote the whole thing herself in a night, asking you questions about how everything’s sorted, what logic it all fits together. She says it looks like a single giant list, thousands of lines long. She can search through the list at will, come up with a document’s instantly, which would tell her where it is. She made a record of those records that index all your records.
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>You knew right then and there that you had finally found a worthy successor, and until then, an invaluable assistant. Even if she was only eleven years old. Easy to forget that when she’s as big as you are.
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>Anon can pull that out of her head and put it on one of his glowing tablets, she said, but Anon told you Twilight hasn’t found a way for unicorns to work them yet. Nova can do it because of a spell Twilight and Starswirl made, but neither of them have any idea how Nova does it, since all that spell was supposed to do was let her see and hear.
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>Ah! Starswirl!
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>When you open your eyes, Nova’s in front of your desk, the appropriate document in one claw.
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>When had you closed your eyes?
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>You take it from her with your magic and flip through a few pages. What could you ask her to test her knowledge?
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>Nothing about math. You’d once thought her a mathematical prodigy, until Anon told you she’s probably cheating, using something similar to however she keeps her mental files straight. But if it’s in her head, then how is it cheating? Immaterial.
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>You could ask her to copy the record as a test of handwriting skills, but there’s nothing wrong with that, besides how atrociously long it takes. If you force yourself to watch her penmanship, you might actually fall asleep.
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>You glance at your coffee cup again.
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>Then stop yourself from looking back at your big thermos.
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>You’re out, she said.
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“Why do I always put these lessons off until night?”
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>Nova tilts her head. “I don’t know, Ms. Inkwell. Why do you?”
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>That wasn’t a question you meant to ask her!
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>You smile and shake your head, dropping the record to your desk.
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“Because, as Her Majesty says, I overwork myself. Come, Your Highness, shall we see if the kitchens have more coffee?”
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>Nova nods excitedly, then bounds over to the door, waiting for you to open it.
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>You do so with your magic as soon as you’re near, and wait for her to step through, following just behind.
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>Once she’s in the wide main hall, she unfolds and stretches her wings, the blade-like ‘feathers’ on her wings extending into their unnatural flight position.
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“What did Her Serene Highness say about flying indoors?”
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>Nova freezes as soon as the blades start rotating, then folds her wings away again. “Sorry Ms. Inkwell.”
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>You chuckle as you walk past her, now that the hallway is unobstructed.
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>You listen to the difference in your hoofbeats as you make your way through the palace. It’s a delicate sound, despite her size. As much as you dislike the big things that make her different – you much prefer her ceremonial outfit, because the armored appearance isn’t as jarring as her decorated framework look normally – there’s a lot of little things about her you can appreciate.
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>You look back at her, the strange work of art of a pony that was your sovereigns’ child.
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>She returns your gaze with her green glass eyes, framed by curves of bronze over straight steel brackets. She dips her head a slight bit and shifts her wings into a position you can’t read. It’s an easier sight than what passed for her smile in her first few years of life.
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>She had to learn how to walk the line between being a pony and the circumstances of her nature. She was learning, but those lessons weren’t yours to teach her. Your task was to show her how to administer her nation.
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>As much your heir as Twilight’s.
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“Your Highness.”
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>”Yes, Ms. Inkwell?”
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>You take your eyes off her, in favor of looking around the palace’s architecture as the two of you come to the main staircase near the palace’s center.
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“What do you think of this place?”
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>”It’s my home, Ms. Inkwell.”
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>That wasn’t what you wanted to ask either.
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>No, it was, it just wasn’t the right answer.
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>Or, it was a right answer, but not the one you wanted.
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>Come on, Raven, clear the fuzz from your head and think. What were you asking her?
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>Also, watch the steps.
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“Yes, but not what I meant. What do you think of the palace as a symbol?”
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>Nova pulls alongside you as you descend. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”
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“The royal palace represents the heart of the nation. Her Majesty, Princess Celestia has surely discussed what it means to reign and the nature of the position, but I want to hear your thoughts on the where, the palace itself.”
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>Nova’s silent for a time, and you only know she’s still next to you by the assortment of curious sounds her body makes in motion.
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>After the next landing, you look at her before starting down another flight of stairs. She’s looking around as if seeing her own home for the first time.
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“Your Highness?”
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>”Mom’s talked about stuff like that but not a lot. She says it’s stuff to worry about when I’m older.”
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>After a little two-step when your legs hesitate to descend, you start down the next flight of steps, Nova hurrying to your side again.
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“She speaks true. I forget your youth.”
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>”It’s alright, Ms. Inkwell. Lots of ponies do.”
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“What do you mean?”
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>”Other foals can be a little weird about it.”
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“Ah, that would make sense.”
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>You laugh and shake your head.
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>Oh. Dizzy.
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>And black.
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* * *
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>Your father speaks of a sensation of time slowing down, once in awhile, if something critical is happening.
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>You never understood this, and you’ve never experienced it. You have a dozen clocks in your head, all governing different things. You know the conditions under which they change. ‘Crisis’ is not one of them.
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>When Raven slumps to the side, on the seventh step of a flight of multiple dozens, she does so at the same rate she was descending in a controlled fashion moments before.
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>You, however, can move much faster than you had been.
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>Your whole body hunches over as fast as its motors can drive, at the same time your front legs shove off the step you’re currently on. Your legs pull into each other in a motion entirely unnatural for ponies, something you learned from watching sprinting dogs.
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>High power draw; your body thinks for just a moment you’re flying.
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>Technically you are, wings outstretched as you freefall down the stairs. You angle the one closer to Raven as she collapses. Her hitting that wing tilts your whole body to the side as you pass her, bringing you down onto the stairs yourself.
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>Even as you hit the steps you rotate the wing upside-down, so she’s not flipped when you are.
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>You’re on your back now. The world’s moving by you too fast for you to see; your eyes are only getting a couple frames of meaningful information at a time.
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>The gyroscopes and accelerometers in your head are doing a much better job at telling you what’s going on. They suggest you’re already more than halfway to the landing.
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>There’s still a weight on your wing, though you can’t directly feel it. You pull that wing in, and your body tilts towards it instead. Good; Raven’s still there, and now you’re in front of her for when-
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>The landing’s just greeted you.
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>You’re on your back again, finally stilled.
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>If you were a normal pony, you would be in a lot of pain right now.
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>You can see out of both eyes. Hearing’s fine, though your right ear is jammed forward. Leave it for now.
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>Left wing’s alright. Surprisingly, the blades aren’t damaged either, as far as a cursory visual inspection reveals.
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>Raven’s on top of your right wing. Her head’s resting on your body in an awkward but not unnatural angle. Her legs trail her up the steps again, but they too don’t appear in any unusual angle. She slid instead of tumbled, as you’d intended.
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>Slowly, carefully, you get back to your feet. Your legs work fine, but your right wing isn’t turning like you tell it to, to keep Raven still. It just turns freely as you stand, pinned under Raven as it is.
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>You take a couple sidesteps to drag it and Raven off the final few steps of the flight, onto the landing. With your wing’s lowered angle, her head lolls off your body to the floor.
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>This is a very awkward location to be stranded. How can you get Raven to help?
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>You turn one eye from the outside world to look within. This symbol here, think into it.
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>All your mental notes appear in that half of your vision. Where are your parents right now?
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>Schedules… Compare against your inner clocks. Celestia’s asleep. Luna’s in meetings, not yet started her dreamwalking but still busy. Anon and Twilight are still up, the latter for not much longer.
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>You’re trying to figure out where those two might be when a guard appears at the bottom of the stairs. You can hear him start galloping up the steps before you blink your vision back to normalcy. “Princess, are you alright?!”
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”I’m okay, but we need some help.”
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>The bat-stallion reaches the landing, worriedly looking you over, then Raven.
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“Please help her, I can’t tell if she’s hurt.”
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>The guard rolls her the rest of the way off your wing and fusses over her a bit.
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>You walk to the other side of the landing, and try moving your wing again now that its freed.
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>Shoulder’s definitely busted; it doesn’t respond when you try turning it.
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>The rest of the joints work, but they won’t do much good without the shoulder.
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>Your rotor blades are totally mangled. If you’d been in your dress armor, those thicker and shorter blades may have made it out intact, but these won’t get you airborne anytime soon.
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>Eleven years before your first broken limb, and you’ve really done it in. Like Dad says; if you’re going to do something, do it right.
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>You laugh quietly to yourself as the guard finishes looking over Raven. “She’ll be okay. Can you help me carry her?”
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>As you make your way back over to him, when he kneels, he eyes your dragging right wing and its damaged blades trailing behind you.
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>You use your left to help nudge Raven onto his back, and keep her there as he stands.
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>You take the final flight of stairs in a much more mundane manner.
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“Where’s my father?”
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>The stallion pauses at an intersection, before changing direction and setting off again. “His Excellency should be this way.”
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>Even though you’re on his right, keeping your wing out of his sight, you can’t hide the scraping sound it’s making, no matter how quiet. He looks at you sidelong when you try falling behind him. “Does it hurt?”
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>Another one of those questions. The questions ponies ask when it’s obvious you’re not one.
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>Twilight always said honesty is important, though.
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“No.”
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>That doesn’t mean you’re going to answer at much above a whisper.
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>His expression doesn’t go blank like so many others, though. He just smiles. “Good. I was worried. I can’t carry both of you.”
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“Thank you.”
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>”Catnip’s always talking about about what you can do, how great you are. She’s sweet, for a mare.”
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“She’s just saying that because she’s assigned to me.”
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>“Nonsense. I don’t think I’d be able to walk normally like you, after a fall like that.”
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”I guess I made a lot of noise, huh?”
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>”I don’t think you woke anyone up, so no problems there.”
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>You follow the guard out into the private gardens along one side of the palace. Sure enough, two of your parents are there, looking out over the city.
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>”Princess, Ambassador, sorry to interrupt. There’s been an accident.”
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>Immediately Anon’s up and vaulting over the bench he was just sitting in, slowing when he sees you standing at the guard’s side. “What happened?”
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“Raven fell down the stairs.”
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>His face goes hard when he sees your broken wing. “And to you?”
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“I caught her.”
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>He softens up, then. “That’s my girl.”
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>Twilight’s beside the guard, helping lower Raven to the grass, her horn glowing with whatever magic she’s using to check on the unicorn.
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>You watch Anon as he lifts your wing, turning it over in his hands, flexing the joints. “What’s broken?”
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“Just the shoulder.”
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>”You can move the rest?”
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>You bend the elbow and rotate the wrist, still in his grasp.
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>“Alright, we can salvage most of this then. Anything else wrong?”
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“I can’t move one of my ears.”
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>He tilts your head in his hands as he looks it over, then turns his attention to your back. “That should be an easy fix. The rest of this damage just looks cosmetic. I never thought Rarity’s ornamentation could be useful for damage mitigation. Looks like the strengthening spell on your body’s working out.”
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“I’m sorry.”
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>Anon looks back to you, shocked. “For what?”
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“You have a lot of work to do on me, now.”
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>He takes your head in both his hands again, this time turning you to look into his eyes. “You did it to protect Raven. That’s something to be proud of. You’re tougher than other ponies. I’m glad you used that to help another. Never apologize for that.”
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>You nod in his hands.
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>”Good. We’ll fix you up tomorrow. Lets finish what you started.”
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>He makes his way to Twilight, crouching at her side. She’s saying something about Raven, but you can’t quite catch it.
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>The guard stallion’s looking at you, though. He looks proud, just like your dad was.
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>Anon looks satisfied with what he hears and replies, then picks Raven up, cradling her in his arms as he walks off towards the palace.
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>When Twilight looks at you, she only spares your wing a glance. Her eyes meet yours, and you can see the pride in them, too.
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>Tonight Raven taught you something new, even if indirectly. Never hesitate to help, no matter what it might cost you.
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>That explains, you suppose, her lack of sleep.
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>Starting tomorrow night, you’ll bug her to fix that.
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>It’s the least she can do in return for your wing.
by E4-NG
by E4-NG
by E4-NG
by E4-NG
by E4-NG