Dust and Memories

@@Hazard Time There was a long moment of silence as Wilhelm looked at Carnelian over the rims of his glasses, like a professor disappointed in your work. "You say your daughter will one day be Wrath Incarnate, but you show no reservations about being that ideal yourself." Abruptly, he stood, taking his greatcoat from the back of the chair where he had left it. "There are two facts which you have forgotten, Carnelian. One, that what you call 'useless' -- morality -- is in fact not only an evolutional imperative to stop us from killing off our own species, but also -- in the form of friendship, something which is impossible to exist without morality -- what powers one of Equestria's most powerful magical artifacts, the Elements of Harmony." He paused, both to think and increase the tension. "Secondly, if you were so traumatized -- though you call it 'being strengthened' -- by the ordeals you went under with your parents, why would you deliberately inflict it on your own foals? You call it putting them through the same trials you did, but a real mother would never put her children through something she hated so vehemently. Furthermore, have you not considered that such sadism and immorality was the same modus operandi of Sombra? He who you also hate so much?" By this point, Wilhelm had already reached the door, and took an officer's cap and a satchel from the nearby coat-rack. "'He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee.' The words of a great philosopher... and ones you perhaps should do well to heed. Good day, Carnelian." Doffing his cap, he opened the heavy chamber door and prepared to leave.

@@Hazard Time Wilhelm twirls a pencil in one curled wing before placing it behind his ear. "Well, then. Lust Incarnate?" He examines Carnelian clinically, as if she was a particularly interesting equation. "Your data will be useful, and you can expect the basic decency of condition of anonymity." He takes another sip of tea, and peers at a watch on his left foreleg. "Well, I do have time for one more question before I must return to my less... ah, metaphysical work." "Why would you have children, knowing that regardless of their choices, their souls would be taken upon birth in any case? Does your foal not have the right to choose their own fate... or do you believe that they would become grateful for your daemonic powers in time?" Wilhelm paused for a moment, then continued. "And, madame, I don't have any problems with my plumbing. Nor, I doubt, do you." His smile looked like a crescent moon; sharp, thin, and cold.

@@Fractured "My dear Anette." Wilhelm's expression changed to one of faint amusement from simple interest, and he leaned forward onto the table. "It gets stranger from there?" He paused. "Allow me to count: Thus far, you've run into hipster pirates for whom 'Blackbeard' is simply too mainstream, you've gotten contracted by a reasonably capable town militia -- two ponies, may I say, however beautiful and capable -- to fight said hipster pirates, and you're telling me things get even more insane from there?" Wilhelm allowed a moment, and then continued. "Regardless... I'm not entirely sure why I'm surprised any more. Maybe if I lived in Griffonia or Prance, but in Equestria, we regularly break out in synchronized musical numbers of perfect pitch and timing at the strangest times. Random pirate encounters can't get stranger than that." Realizing what he just said, Wilhelm coughed. "Ah... temptation for Mr. Fate on line four."

@@Hazard Time A pony passes into the room; a slightly-built, blue-coated stallion. Wilhelm brushes some of his mane out of his eyes and adjusts his glasses before sketching a bow in the air, one of minimum formality but not quite enough for Carnelian to take offense at. His lips twitch in a small, sardonic smile as he asks a relatively simple question. Relatively. "So, Baroness... what, exactly, does it feel like to have no soul?" Wilhelm forestalls objection with an upraised hoof, and takes a sip of tea. "Do not ask me how I know, Madame. It is my business to know things." Finally, he sits down with as insouciant an air as could be permitted in the presence of a nominal superior. Perhaps Carnelian would know Wilhelm, or know what the understated symbols of rank glittering at his lapels mean. Perhaps, she might even believe him. "Either way, Baroness..." He cocked one eyebrow. "I would find such information most useful in my... research." Wilhelm rolled the word around his mouth like a sip of fine Bitalian wine, savoring the taste, and his lips quirked upwards just slightly more.

Wilhelm, meanwhile, was ignoring the fight to obsess over the focus crystal. "No, no! This is all wrong," he cried. "The energy needs somewhere to go, it needs a release... Celestia damn it!" He flew around the array at top speed, disconnecting thauma transfer wires and shattering delicate focus lattice-matrices with well-placed arrows, but his quiver was running low and the weapon showed no sign of dissipating the existing energy, though it was thoroughly stopped from transferring any further power. The ever-present hum of the restless magic shot to an impossibly high pitch, and Wilhelm finally resigned himself to the observatory being wiped out. But first, he needed that crystal. If he could remove the focus -- and get it to Twilight -- the Catalyst Spell wouldn't activate, and given his thorough disassembly of most other parts of the machine, only this building would go. Quickly, Wilhelm located the focusing crystal through the melee, but -- to his regret -- the crystal was through the battle. Taking a deep breath, Wilhelm closed his wings against his body and dropped into a free-fall dive. An inch before terminal velocity, Wilhelm's wings snapped out to his sides and he shot back up in the air, his hind hooves delivering a resounding buck to one of the traitor Guards' heads as he used them as a springboard. Wilhelm's trajectory took him straight through the central chamber, and he extended his hooves... ...To grab the crystal mid-flight, tearing it out of its housing. He slammed into the ground and slid a few feet, but quickly hauled himself off the floor to stand once more. To the others, Wilhelm shouted "Go! It's about to explode!" But while the others were still here, Wilhelm would not leave.

"Okay. There's a side way into the Observatory," Wilhelm said, continuing to keep an eye out for any opposing forces. "If we cut through the plaza three streets ahead, there's a little backstreet that can take us up to the Observatory's service entrance, where the astronomers and researchers would receive shipments and deliveries from Canterlot proper; glass eyepieces, bulk crystal, et cetera. It's much longer than trying to punch through the castle, but the castle's certainly guarded. The side way... probably not. Probably." Wilhelm peered up at the airships overhead, steadily pulling away from the city under full afterburner; going that fast, they'd escape the blast radius, but need to resupply from either a ground ley line or an airborne tanker soon after. If this situation was ended quickly, the King and his cabal could still be tracked down and held accountable for their cowardice. "And as for the King and his forces... well, some of them might be fanatical enough to fight for him still. Others? Well, they just saw their coward ursurper speed off into the ether, leaving them all to die. Not exactly a stallion to fight for, there." Wilhelm relished those words, ones he would not dare say in public before this. Coward ursurper. There were certainly other feelings he could air about his life since Celestia's death, but he swallowed them like venom -- with a wince and a faint full-body shiver. This was not the time for either poisoned or honeyed words; this was time for action. His bow almost seemed to hum in sync with his heartbeat; action. War. Wilhelm's expression curved into a sharp, crescent-like smile, and something undefinable -- that of a pony who has seen service, and fought things most ponies would run away from -- glittered in his eyes. "In any case. Oorah, mes Capitane -- let us write the final act of our story."

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow, still hovering where he was. Quickly, he looked to the side at the nearby houses, and an idea struck him. Wilhelm flew over to Sharp, and settled down beside him. Quietly, he whispered "We can bridge the gap with materials from the houses. We could use doors as the bridges proper, and columns and rafters as braces. Single file, one pony at a time. Pegasi first, to go across the chasm and hold the bridges down while the others cross. Half pegasi on that side, half on this side. Unicorns can build the bridges, and the earth ponies can gather the materials." He backed off, then shot back into the air, mentally measuring the length of the chasm and comparing it to the materials in various different buildings within easy range of the company. It seemed like the bridges could be easily created, but the alicorn-daemon could -- and might -- simply remove the bridges or make the chasm wider. Somehow, they'd have to distract the daemon, or... hm.

Wilhelm nodded. "Understood." His sword was removed from his hoof and placed back in its flank-sheath, to be replaced with Wilhelm's bow. Gathering his strength, he leaped up in the air, and his wings shot out to their full extent. Wilhelm glided over the assembled troops before switching to a hover around the rear of the formation. Wilhelm picked up an arrow between his teeth and nocked it to the bowstring, but did not draw and fire. Not yet, anyway, though Wilhelm knew the time would soon come. The daemon was an unpredictable factor, and Wilhelm... did not like variables of that sort. But Wilhelm wasn't quite sure the assembled force could kill the daemon -- or rather, banish it to the Pit for the next few centuries while it recovered enough thauma to bring itself back into the world proper. In any case, he kept a close eye on the husk, and the other eye roving across all routes for enemy snipers to set up or forces to arrive. Every so often, his bow would twitch slightly in a certain direction, and Wilhelm would watch for any unconscious movement on a watcher's part. Old habits die hard, Wilhelm thought. Especially when most of them were created to prevent you dying.

Wilhelm stared down the demon, his expression full of cool, repressed fury. "Ponies are nothing like you. You are what you are by your nature. You never have a choice about your morality; you were born to be evil. If one can even term your genesis as a 'birth.' You have no morality or conscience, do you?" Wilhelm waited for a split second, then continued. "I almost pity you. Almost. For all you talk about freedom and will, you never had a choice. You never even knew or will know that you can choose. But ponies?" Here, he raised his voice and turned to the Guards. "Ponies have choices about what they can be! Ponies can decide whether they side with good or evil. Do none of you Guards remember what we were taught at school for literature, and again for discipline at the Academy? 'A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once?' Do you really want to go back to your homes, to a world where you might drop dead at any moment or lose all your worldly possessions at a single thought, and every waking second you have in your home, die another time? Be valiant! If we must die, we will die as Guards! We will die honorably, in the ideals of the ancient Pegasopolis hoplites of old!" "But we will not die," Wilhelm continued. "We have the power of the Element of Magic behind us. Of the Tarot. Of our own friendship -- the most powerful of all Equestrian magics. And all that waits for you -- if you cut and run now -- is a legacy of dishonor. You can stand with us now and reclaim the glory you have lost, or you could leave, and die every second of every day for the rest of your life. We are only ponies, like you! We have stood against these demons, and we have prevailed this far! Now, stand with us one last time!" Wilhelm withdrew his sword from the cobblestone and raised it to the sky. "I am Sergeant-Major Wilhelm de Winter, second-in-command of the 135th Specialist Archers, son of Colonel Friedrich de Winter, former commander of the Canterlot West Gate Air Division, and a proud member of the Royal Guard!" He lowered the sabre, pointing it at each stallion in turn, and finally resting it directly at the chest of the dissenting Guard. Quietly, he finished: "Who are you?"

@@Fractured: Wilhelm raised an eyebrow. "You were pirates? Well, more accurately, you and Sleight were pirates?" A slow smile crossed his face. My, we do have a lot in common. "Do tell." While he waited for Anette's response, Wilhelm took a few bites of food, and immediately regretted it. Quickly, he took up his glass of water and drained half of it in an instant, then glared reproachfully at the -- still delicious -- pasta. "By Celestia, that was hot. My tongue is on fire." He paused. "Well, not any more. Though I'm pretty sure it was actually on fire for a few seconds."

Wilhelm now stepped to the front of the group; his ears were forward, his wings were spread wide, and his teeth were faintly bared. However, when he began to speak, it was in a quiet tone that carried all the way up the Avenue, a skill trained by the battlefield and the lecture hall alike. "Monsters that call themselves ponies? You're one to talk. Sitting there, on a stolen throne, a thrice-damned husk, an ideal of horror wearing the skin of a mare a thousand times more than you ever could be, you're one to speak about monsters!" He gestured with one hoof, pointing it like an arrow at the Celestia-dæmon. "You wear her body like a cast-off overcoat; you are too small for it, as it was crafted for a Princess larger than you. You pretend to possess her qualities, but the skin hinders you, for I remember her! I knew her. And like an amateur actress, you flail and cry upon the world's stage, accomplishing nothing. You pretend at benevolence, at the bestowing of freedom, at love, qualities which none of your ilk can possibly possess." Wilhelm paused. "The world tears at you; can you feel it? It rejects your essence. Equestria does not want you here. You were not born here, for the Pit was from whence you crawled. And to achieve acceptance, you must tear your way into the fabric of the world, embed yourself within its structure. You must take a body, lest this world tear you apart." Then, his mouth curled in a derisive sneer. "What do you have to say for yourself, worm-witch? What do you have to say for yourself, mewling spawn of Tartarus? What do you have to say for yourself, you delusional, genocidal hypocrite?" In a single movement, Wilhelm's sword was braced against his hoof, its blade glittering in the light. "For I name you horror of the Pit! I name you darkness, the opposite of light, friendship, and love, I name you that which all ponies revile! I name you murdering witch, I name you bloodied progeny of the screaming Unternacht of Parabola, I name you unworthy to wear that skin!" The sword came down, and stood, quivering -- embedded in what was once a solid cobblestone -- as Wilhelm's declaimed speech reached its crescendo. "What do you say for yourself?!"

Wilhelm had been tending to his weapons; his sword needed sharpening and cleaning, and his arrows needed to have their fletching adjusted and their heads bound more tightly to their shaft. Such a routine had been drilled into him during his time in the Guard; no good weapons is equal to a very short life. But when Twilight said she was "open to ideas," Wilhelm was suddenly shocked back to reality. Quickly, he opened his trusty satchel and took the books inside out one by one. "Well, Princess... If we can get to the Astronomy Tower, we have enough material here on the physiological, thaumatic, and planar characteristics of the mutants and the daemons as a species that we could target them only with the Weapon." He paused a moment to let the weight of his words sink in. "No pony would be harmed. No innocent deaths. Just the army, waiting to devour all ponies in their way. And, if you're still holding out hope for a cure... Do we really have time? Do we really want to risk our own safety and lives -- without which, all of Canterlot dies -- for the safety of those we don't even know if we could cure at all, or whether they'd even be the same afterwards?" Wilhelm looked back down at the books, and began meditatively flipping pages. "I vote we go to the Weapon, modify it as necessary, and fire. No need for any more... trivialities. After that's done, we can address the matter of succession; namely, bringing the Princess back onto the throne."

"No, no; Caliber and I are friends. Generally speaking, one can't not be friends with somepony after you've shot Death and they've punched Death repeatedly in the face with a broken sword. At the same time." A faint, amused smile crossed Wilhelm's face. "Though I spent a rather long time in the hospital after I fought him in this Arena as one of its inaugural matches." "Broke multiple bones, contusions from my withers to my haunch across my whole left flank, and too many experimental arrow variants lost. Eventually, I decided that I was best off sticking with normal arrows after those incidents, with my more technological weaponry being wholly unconnected to the old sword-and-bow standby." As he finished that last sentence, the waiter set down the food with nary a glance at Wilhelm's bow. After all, this was Bangcolt -- expensive restaurants were foal's play even for the most boorish of ponies in an arena that paid in Roamish Gladiator amounts of bits, and Wilhelm breaking out a bow didn't come close to the waiter's worst incident. At the thought, the waiter repressed a shudder and moved quickly away from the table, leaving Anette and Wilhelm to their food. Wilhelm almost noticed the disappearance of Glory and Heartthrob, but he wasn't specifically focusing on the dolls, and his attention was already divided between the food and Anette. Before he ate, however, Wilhelm lifted his water glass in a wing, gesturing with it towards Anette. "Cheers. To a..." Happy relationship? Peace and prosperity? Long and happy relationship? Should I make a joke? Um...

"Twilight." Wilhelm said, softly. "Do you remember the Astronomy Tower? With the telescope of steel and brass, etched with gold for magical conductivity? The intricate arrangement of gears that opened and closed the dome, working somehow in perfect concert? The King dismantled the telescope and stripped the gears and the desks and bookshelves, to install a weapon he did not know how to control oand which could -- and still might -- scorch the life from half of Equestria." "Can you say, Princess, that you have never made mistakes before? That none of us have ever made mistakes? It is only equine to make mistakes, and if you believe doing so means that you're somehow less of a pony than others or more of a threat to others, then you're wrong. And that's something I never thought I'd have to tell Twilight Sparkle." An amused smile flickered across his face before disappearing as Wilhelm continued to pace the deck of the airship. "Your mistake was bigger than most, yes, and its consequences unfathomable at a glance. But hubris... Hubris, and the degree of friendship you and Rainbow Dash had, would drive anypony to do whatever it took. And think they could do it. You see, Twilight... You haven't made many small mistakes. And that builds up your confidence. You were a Princess, a coronated alicorn, a respected researcher at the head of a team consisting of the best and brightest minds from all fields of science. How could you have failed?" Wilhelm paused and wheeled around to face Twilight. "What did every book on thaumaturgy and the recounted travels of the thanatonauts say? Printed in massive letters inside the front cover of the thaumaturgy books: THEORETICAL MAGIC. ATTEMPT AT OWN RISK. And then several lines about jail time, punishments, liability for any loss of life of limb... Nopony had ever succeeded at raising the dead. Nopony made the Veil twitch more than an inch without incurring horrible consequences. And you thought you could do what nopony, even Star Swirl, would think of attempting." "And I'm sorry to say this, but I can't forgive you for that. But I will tell you this. If your hubris and your pride made this mistake previously -- Project Phoenix -- then what is making this decision for you now? Do you imagine you're embarking on some noble sacrifice? That you will hold one hoof to your forehead like a swooning penny dreadful mare, and wave us off as we trudge to our deaths? Do you honestly imagine you're doing us a favor by sending us to death or worse? Well, Twilight Sparkle, allow me to tell you this..." Wilhelm finally looked directly into Twilight's eyes. "Instead of making another mistake, atone for your first. Help us. Help all of Celestia's little ponies. Or when we leave here, you will have another regret, another blotch, another weight I don't think you can afford on your conscience."

Okay, I'll bite. Go ahead and tear Wilhelm apart. (Figuratively.) I expect to get sinned on the name since I was like "okay let's use human name for pony" when I first started, and now I can't very well change it, but I'm going to smooth that over by saying that his father (Friedrich de Winter) was descended from pony slaves kept by Griffins in the old, wild days (i.e., Creation of Unified Equestria era), and since these pony slaves adopted Griffin-ish names (i.e., Gilda, Grover, etc), their descendants had similar names. Therefore, Friedrich de Winter marrying Andromeda Eclipse (a perfectly normal pony name) to produce the (named by his and her father in accordance with tradition) Wilhelm and Celeste de Winters. Just sayin'. Otherwise, go ahead and criticize my character.

Wilhelm's expression had initially fallen, but as Anette continued to speak, the ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "Well, it wasn't much of a project." He looked down at his hooves, resting on the table inches from Anette's own. "It was more... an excuse. I was scared, to be honest. Scared of what may come or what might have come. And I'm not afraid to admit it." He shrugged faintly. "There isn't much I'm scared of anymore. But nevertheless... I understand. I hope I understand. And I'll tell you this much -- it won't happen again." The smile returned. "Now, I hope you don't mi-" At that moment, whatever Wilhelm thought Anette might mind (probably a request for wine from the waiter) was cut off by a scream echoing across the city. Instantly, nearly two decades' worth of training and experience went into action, and Wilhelm's bow was already unfolded and snapped onto the brace on his hoof by the time he reached the window. His satchel lay forgotten on the floor, open to reveal a large assortment of extremely esoteric paperwork, a novel, and a quiver's worth of armor-piercing broadheads -- plus the compartment for a collapsible compound torsion bow. His eyes narrowed behind the glasses as he surveyed the Arena below, sweeping the streets in quadrants. In moments, he had pinpointed the source of all the commotion, and winced. There were one or two ponies on the rooftops and an absolute mob chasing a pony Wilhelm faintly remembered as Raze. The mob itself was headed by a vanguard of golden-armored Guard, and Wilhelm winced. Looking over his withers, he gave Anette an apologetic smile. "The universe seems to be conspiring against any sort of romantic relationship between us." His gaze switched between the chase below, which was beginning to curve out of sight, and Anette sitting at the table. The waiter was approaching with their food, and Wilhelm took a deep breath before he pulled out his chair and sat down, leaving the bow strung over the edge of his chair. "Then again, if I have to fight the universe, so be it. Can't be any worse than Caliber."

"By Royal decree, and predestiny..." Wilhelm whispered. "You've come so far." Wilhelm was in the cheering crowds at Twilight's coronation. In the select group of field experts next to Twilight when she opened her Ponyville laboratory. Even, a grand total of once for a grand total of a half-hour, across from her in a candlelit restaurant, however quickly they mutually realized relationships weren't built on intellectual compatibility. But that was... Wilhelm frowned. Was that from here, or from one of the other... places? The closer he got to any of the rifts, the more confused his thoughts grew. A younger Wilhelm, chatting with his sister. Wilhelm's mortarboard was cocked at a rakish angle, and his sister was laughing at one of his jokes. That can't be right. She died before I graduated. A much older Wilhelm, whose mane had become streaked with white and grey. A mare stood next to him, equally as old, who was wearing a ring around her horn. Wilhelm realized with a start that the ring matched the one around one of his primary feathers, in a traditional style for pegasi who didn't fly much. A small foal gamboled around their legs. That... couldn't, shouldn't be right. I never saw Anette again after I was sent back to Canterlot. In Bangcolt, I was foolish enough to challenge one of the Princesses... and I used something. Some sort of... Whatever it was, the Princesses -- or I think it was the Princesses -- demanded I destroy all copies of the weapon and my research on it. There was some sort of... My memory isn't working. Why isn't it working? A Wilhelm around the age he is in the Prime Timeline, waiting for something or somepony. The Wilhelm of now is puzzled, but quickly realizes what's going on when Twilight Sparkle -- a unicorn, strangely -- enters from... offscreen? Prime Timeline Wilhelm's wings perform an extremely undignified but completely natural reaction, colloquially referred to by idiots as a "wingboner." ...I would remember if that ever happened. Very, very much remember. Wilhelm hastily stepped back to the center of the airship, not only the better to get a view of the upcoming likely-disaster, but to avoid any rifts that may -- probably are -- causing problems with the memories of anypony too near them. Then again, there was always that Wilhelm was the only pony to be stu- "adventurous" enough to look into the rifts directly. Finally, to Lavender, Wilhelm said "Stand down! Give up the sword, Lavender." Then, his voice became iron. "Discord, I know of you. I know of your depravities. I am a scholar of Harmony, and I know that if you do not release my student from your clutches, Her Highness will show you the consequences of harming Her subjects." Quietly, he murmured "I hope." Wilhelm could almost feel the magic in Lavender subside somewhat after Twilight's display, and Wilhelm breathed a silent sigh of relief. Discord was still in Lavender -- Wilhelm could feel that much -- but he wasn't her.

Wilhelm frowned. "...What do you mean?" He racked his mind for some clue as to what Anette could mean. Was she speaking of some social ineptitude committed today? Of some issue before, perhaps when he had neglected the outside world? Or was Anette speaking of some deeper trauma; the pits of Tartarus, the deserts of Araby, the monsters of Dead Mare's cross? Wilhelm looked more closely at Anette. She seemed to be... annoyed? Something along those lines? Wilhelm was... not very good at knowing what the opposite gender was thinking. Either way, he wasn't sure why the tablecloth hadn't already erupted in a bonfire from the force of her gaze by now. He took a deep breath and repeated his question. "What do you mean?"

Wilhelm's eyes widened as he looked at the prices, but he covered his muzzle with one hoof and pretended to cough. Remember, Wilhelm, this isn't about "whatever is the least bits" like in your self-imposed exile or between Royal Stipend paychecks. This is about Anette. "Sounds like a good choice. I'll have the..." His eyes swept over the menu, alighting on a single Bitalian dish. Spicy pasta with a pesto sauce and olives. It appeared unconventional, yet delicious. Sure, Wilhelm had never tried it before, but he was sure it would be fine. After all, he had tried what the Braytish call a "good curry" once. Couldn't be half as bad as that. "The spicy pesto penne. With roasted potatoes, please." With a smile, Wilhelm hoofed his menu back to the waiter, the previous price-induced wince gone. He waited for the waiter to disappear, then took a sip of water. I could have gone for some wine. For a moment, Wilhelm considered asking the waiter for the wine list when they came back, then reconsidered the benefits of sobriety. ...Nope.

3/10: Digitally edited and very much not my type of music.

Welcome to the lyrical arena; not long shall I see ya When I tear you down like a Prohibition-era cantina I've learned from my mistakes; no more shall you hold my rightful place Better sit down lest you be cast into space Because I'm coming back fly, never gonna die Think you can beat me? Must be high; I'm shooting for the sky Drop rap bombs like clockwork; make you all hurt Precisely calibrated rhymes delivered curt, knock you into the dirt I don't have any patience for raps delivered from one's anus Nor those simply too heinous; it's demeaning to my greatness Petrify weak rappers like a statue; while money's what I accrue While you're making a 2 + 2 breakthrough, I'm bringing you low with my crew I don't use profanity -- cleanest; yet I spit diamonds -- meanest I'm a genius, writing my thesis, while you work all day like a grubby machinist You struggle for your rhymes, and what you say is a litany of crimes Mine are perfect like primes; break it down like enzymes Finally and in conclusion, I tear away your delusion For your state of confusion, I offer a simple allusion Like a infant playing at prosecution, rap is what you always lose in As the denouement's execution, your cred undergoes dissolution So come at me attempting retribution, and I'll smack you down again with my elocution.

As the battle played out, despite his concern and the pertinent facts that he could be attacked any any moment, Wilhelm had the oddest smile on his face. For him, this was one of the Celestial Grails of magical theory -- actual, experiential, empirical evidence for... oh, well, Wilhelm didn't even know how much his observations here could help science! Idly, he watched the battle go by. ...And the nature of the "sword" -- if one may define an oscuratimagical construct bearing occasional resemblance to a sword as such -- would indicate proof of lower natures of reality clearly differentiated from the one ponies normally perceive (but made perceivable by the "sword's" tearing effect) but with perhaps entities with unconfirmed levels of intelligence inhabiting the Lower Regions. This implication may yet prove Warlockess-Denuntiata Gleam correct in her... As Wilhelm adjusted his glasses to look into one of the rifts more closely to observe the impossible, writhing geometries within, he realized he was crying blood, and hastily looked away. Yes, enough of that. Enough of that for as long as equinely possible. Wiping the tears from his eyes with the edge of his much-battered, once-proud coat, Wilhelm switched his gaze back to the pitched battle on deck. Wilhelm dropped into a crouch on the deck, sitting on his haunches. Carefully, he nocked an arrow to his bow and drew it back until the fletching was touching the edge of his left primary feather. Unlike most archers, Wilhelm didn't sight down the arrow -- his talent was astronomy, not archery. Instead, he used those skills to formulate a "simple" firing solution. ...Account for movement of bodies i, ii, and iii along (statistically-compensated most likely) trajectory T, defined as a relative course to the trajectory J of ship S; calculate length of curve, take the integral, compensate for... No, Wilhelm might not have been an archer. But he was a Celestia-damned good mathematician. The bow twanged, speeding the first arrow on its way. Before the first had made contact, Wilhelm loosed two more and waited. Thanks to his cracked glasses, Wilhelm's depth perception was off, and his first arrow didn't deliver a killing shot, instead tearing the jaw off of the leading Knight, along with a shallow cut along its jugular. The next arrow pierced the brain of the next Knight, dropping it to career off the hull down to the ground below. The final arrow tore the wing off of the third Knight, sending it spiraling into the Scion's next barrage of cannon-fire. Wilhelm shuffled low across the deck, moving to the next-optimal firing position. The smile from before returned, and triumph glittered in his eyes. Two down, one damaged. Let's see how many want Teacher's cane, eh? The analogy was somewhat dampened by the fact that Wilhelm never actually used a cane on his students, but he was reasonably sure it worked anyway.