Guilty Hornet [Old Version]

by Zombificus

Chapter Four (Part One): Necessary Preparations

The emerald flames spun outwards as they dissipated, and I emerged from the teleport apparently unscathed, with no obvious change from my pre-portal state and all four hooves firmly on the ground. However, with ill effects being an occupational hazard of long-range teleportation, I went through the obligatory checks with customary zeal, casting the full range of diagnostic spells in sequence and repeating the process in case I had made a mistake.

Finding myself as I had been before my arrival, I relaxed and glanced around warily at the place my contact had told me to wait. I had followed his portal trajectory, given no means to contact him for a renegotiation and therefore no choice in the matter, and thus found myself inside what appeared to be a battered-up, moth-eaten caravan of some sort, every surface overflowing with a multitude of objects the purpose of which were mysteries to me and whose own pristine appearances betrayed their new arrival in comparison to the dust-laden furniture they lay upon.

An antique grandfather clock, inexplicably hanging upside-down from the ceiling as though it existed in a world where gravity was the other way around entirely, showed me that the time was a few minutes before nine in the morning, assuming that the clock was in any way accurate, which given its age and surroundings, along with its rather eccentric approach to gravitational forces, was not in any way guaranteed.

My contact had warned me to arrive on time - nine A.M. to be precise - and therefore I found myself watching the clock slowly tick towards the hour, in full expectation that he would not make such a hypocrite of himself as to arrive late. As the seconds drifted past, I ran my gaze over the items which surrounded me, many being items of jewellery or segments of various ancient armours, with others emanating the unmistakeable aura of powerful magical items. As it happened, my prediction turned out to be completely accurate down to the very second: in the exact moment the grandfather clock chimed nine o'clock, the distinctive crack of a teleport rang out into the air, muffled by the simultaneous singing out of a long, low cello note.

With the cessation of the note, the sound sinking instead forever into oblivion, heavy footsteps sounded outside and I drew myself up to my full height, making sure that I was at my most presentable so as to avoid the usual jabs. I need not have bothered, in all honesty, but I still took a small amount of pride at my own appearance as the being I had come to meet opened the caravan's door and slipped noiselessly inside.

The creature which stood before me was; as one might have suspected from the noise, choice of meeting place, and gravity-defying timepiece; a draconequus.

His head was that of a windigo - albeit one who had not an eye but a unicorn's horn growing from its right socket, forcing the eyelids permanently open - and upon said head was affixed a complicated setup of lenses and mechanical workings. He adjusted this slightly; his horn glowing a light violet as he tilted the headgear into a more secure perch on his head; before cycling the device through numerous lenses of varying size and colour, his piercing grey eye watching all the while from behind this veil of metal and glass. There was an overwhelming sense of judgement in the act, and even with my long-running acquaintanceship with the draconequus, I could not bear to look back into his gaze, opting instead to examine his current appearance.

Around his neck - a dragon's, judging by the scales - was a dull crimson shawl, and wrapped around his shoulders - which, along with the rest of his torso, were that of a griffon - was a weathered grey traveller's cloak. Under this he wore a considerably more pleasant-looking tailcoat, although even this was in a utilitarian blue-grey and sporting only the most sparing decoration in the form of gleaming, yet entirely patternless, silver buttons.

His right shoulder merged into a jade green buffalo's foreleg, whereas his left expanded into a far bulkier centaur arm, the dense musculature just barely visible under the dented armour plates he wore over the limb. The fingers dangling out of the end of his sleeve revealed the appearance of the arm as being sunset orange in colouration and crystalline in much the same way as the bodies of the ill-fated Crystal Empire's citizens. His legs, on the other hoof, were both pony, as was much of his hindquarters, if the matching tail was anything to go by: this trait continued until where a pony's hocks would be, where they met the lower legs of a timberwolf on the left, and a diamond dog on the right; both feet encased in practical-looking walking boots with dull steel toe caps.

Though I could not see them, the fact that his appearance had only altered in regards to his attire since our last meeting meant that whatever flight organs - if any - he currently possessed, they were very likely the same mauve thestral wings he had unfailingly maintained through his more severe transformations over the years. They had some deep significance to him - though he had always stalwartly refused to inform me why exactly he gave them such special treatment while the rest of him swapped and changed at a moment's notice - and I was therefore quite comfortable in my assumption that they would be the same as always.

"You were early," he accused, snapping me out of my reverie as he punctuated his words with three sharp stabs of his centauran finger onto the softly glinting face of the burnished steel watch on his right wrist.

"Would you rather I was late?" I countered calmly, more than used to the draconequus's preferred dance of probing insults and leading statements. He frowned slightly at my response, before nodding in concession.

"Fair point, Chrysalis - now, what was it you required of me? My time is as precious as my wares, and you, old friend, would do well to choose quickly." He followed this statement up with a visual expression, swinging the watch, which had become much enlarged since I last looked at it, in wide, slow arcs.

"'Old friend' indeed," I snorted sarcastically, before answering him: he would only grow more unbearable if I waited and it was why I came here, after all. "Seeker, I need information. Anything and everything you can find on the topic - if it's related, I want to know - even the most ridiculous idea may lead me to a solution."

"Information...? Not armies of eternal demons, then? Or even a good old MWMD? No...? Well, this will certainly be a change; even if I was hoping you'd give me a better reason to summon the damned from Tartarus besides my childish desire to watch the mayhem which would undoubtedly ensue. Tell me, then, what subject do you require such a wealth of information on?"

"Medical magics, specifically those relating to bone and nerve repairs and the treatment of grievous, life-threatening injuries. Also, find me all you can on the Elements of Harmony changeling healing magic, I suspect that some of our longer-forgotten magic might prove to be useful in my efforts, and it often pays to know about everything someone might have been affected by."

"Spinal repairs, life-threatening injuries and the Elements of Harmony? My, my, you have been a busy little hornet, haven't you? I'll see what I can dig up for you..." He started to walk away, but paused no more than two steps later and turned back to me, the glint in his eyes and the buzz of excitement forewarning me that he'd had another of his big ideas.

"Say, the Bearers of Harmony defeated Nightmare Moon and Discord, did they not? You must be stronger than I thought to have defeated them: I may have to enlist your services in future, I can think of a few tough cookies I'd rather like to crumble."

The way he spoke of the Bearers' defeat reminded me painfully of the fate of their leader, and I all but snapped at him in response. "You misunderstand: they were separated; useless; and the one I did fight would have been an admirable opponent. I am not your private mercenary, Seeker, nor do I wish to be."

"Would have been...? Ooooh... Oooooh... I understand now: grievous injuries... medical magic... never a mercenary - you messed up, didn't you?"

He was far too close to the truth, and I hurriedly attempted to throw him off the idea, unwittingly confirming his suspicions in the very act of doing so.

"That's quite the leap of logic, Seeker; aren't you afraid you might fall into the chasm of falsehood?" I winced inwardly the instant after I spoke, and doubly so when the draconequus grinned wickedly, eyes twinkling with condescending amusement.

"Not in the least, dear Chrysalis, not this time. Because I am right, am I not? You don't want blood on your hooves, so you're trying to wash it off by saving the life you nearly ended."

After several seconds' awkward silence in which I found myself unable to come up with a response to refute the claims, I sighed heavily and said, tiredly: "Just get me my information."

"As you wish... That will be one precious memory, if you would be so kind." He held out a palm as if expecting immediate payment, something which only served to ignite the kindling of anger he had lain down earlier.

"I'll pay you when you bring me what I ordered, like usual."

My horn buzzed unpleasantly with his disappointment, and I could faintly sense the racing thoughts congregating in his mind as he formulated an offer to obtain what he wanted sooner rather than later. "Pay me up front and I'll try find you a nice, weak minded king to liven things up in the royal bedchambers..."

"No thank you, Seeker," I said, coldly, "I am more than capable of finding my own, should I ever want one."

"A shame..." the draconequus feigned disappointment. "I know a dashing young unicorn king who'll be available in a few months. He's had a little trouble letting go of the old ways, but I hear he's a reasonable fellow once you get to know him, and besides, changelings have naturally never had the same issue with dark magicians as the other races."

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and looked at him with a decidedly unimpressed expression gracing my features. "You did hear the part where I said 'no'?"

The buzz of genuine disappointment told me that he had given up on the venture, and I relaxed a little at the knowledge that I would not have to deal with that tiresome line of conversation any longer.

"Sadly, yes, " he said, sounding a little disheartened. "Ah well, maybe the next one..."

"Don't count on it," I told him, still quite irritated. Draconequui being draconequui, he apparently could not resist adding a chaos joke to his closing statement.

"I wouldn't want to; mathematics are far too ordered for my tastes."

I sighed long-sufferingly and shook my head at him. "Of course they are..." I muttered, to which he did not reply but merely smiled, my horn buzzing with the particular vibration of smug satisfaction as he did so.

Our deal concluded, he turned away from me and strode back over to the door, looking back one last time to wave a silent farewell, before vanishing in a cloud of dark smoke, accompanied once again by the sound of a cello bow being drawn across the strings. I watched the place where he had vanished for a few short moments in case he made a reappearance as he was sometimes wont to do, but he did not return, and I did not linger long in the place he had brought me. With a flash and a roar of green flame, I vanished from the scene, feeling a slight pang of guilt as the caravan caught fire and the roof fell in, which I shrugged off quickly in favour of cold, hard purpose. I had work to do.

I reappeared not in the palace, nor in the streets of the city now reluctantly mine, for my current work was far from official business. Loathe to admit it as I was, Seeker was right: I had made a mistake, and I wanted to fix it; mostly for my own benefit rather than Twilight Sparkle's, but both our fates were quite thoroughly intertwined in this matter. The eccentric draconequus would provide me with the means to work out the how of saving Twilight Sparkle, but it was up to me to figure out the what; hence my current location at the mouth of a cave on the side of Mount Canter, several miles below the city proper.

As I trotted carefully down into the shadowy depths of the tunnel, checking myself over lazily, my mind wandered unwanted to thoughts of Sparkle: how she had screamed as she fell into the abyss; how I had rushed, unthinking, to save her; how the silk around one side of her had snapped and how her head had swung too far, too fast in the resulting motion. The screams had died out then, before she even hit he ground; before she sustained even worse injuries from the hard landing - not a good omen.

Try as I might, I could not shake the feeling that the venture had been doomed from the start, my doubts about Sparkle's condition worsening with each step and mixing with the blurred, half-remembered horrors of that day to the point where I almost gave up entirely. There was a reason that spinal injuries were mostly untreated even in Equestria, and that reason was that nothing was ever guaranteed to do anything besides add in another factor which might eventually kill the patient. There were treatments, of course, but they were experimental and often proved deadly, and mine would probably be even more so than the current methods. Even so, I had to try: I had vowed, and it had been drilled into me from birth that a changeling who did not uphold their vows was the lowest sort of changeling in the hive.

After some time, I passed the cavern in which I had imprisoned Cadance and, realising I was close to my destination, refocused my thoughts on the various diagnostic spells I would shortly need to cast on the unfortunate unicorn lying frozen in time a short distance away. I had stalled enough already; now it was most certainly time for work. My crystal-clear memory informed me that it was not much further to the fateful spot of those horrific events, and I continued automatically, trying and failing to empty my mind of all thought so as not to think of her.

Pausing for a moment at the cliffside, I looked out into the death-tainted cavern and tried to ignore the stabbing pain in my heart: so much of me wanted to simply return the way I had come, but I knew deep down that I could not let myself leave before my task was done, lest I lose even more sleep to thoughts of nigh-dead unicorns. Sighing mournfully, I returned to the rocky path and focused my mind on putting one hoof in front of the other.

When, at last, I got close enough to actually see the body, I found myself shying away instinctively, hot tears rolling unbidden down my cheeks as the realisation that the events of that fateful day hadn't been some frighteningly lifelike nightmare but cold, harsh reality. Ponies died, that was a fact of life, but it was I who had done this to Twilight Sparkle, not old age or illness or natural disaster... My fault, no one else's; and so it would be my duty to fix what I'd done. A changeling's vow was a sacred thing, and even this grim reminder of my wrongdoing could not quite persuade me to break my word.

Refocusing myself on the downed unicorn, I recast the stasis spell to keep it at maximum power, paranoiacally checking and checking again for signs that it was buckling or wearing off faster than I had anticipated. Satisfied that it was doing its intended task as well as I had thought it would, I prepared the first of the many diagnostic spells which would tell me exactly what Sparkle's condition was, from the types to the severity of the injuries she had sustained.

The green flare of my magic, tinged violet around the edges, jetted forth unto Sparkle's frozen form and spread across it in waves, each injury it found being reported back via a stabbing pain in the corresponding spot on my own body. My ankles burnt a little and my back ached, but worst of all was the searing agony throughout my neck, the wave of agony nearly causing me to faint as the spell continued up to the tip of Sparkle's horn and fizzled out, completed.

Once I had recovered enough to think straight, I began noting down what was injured and to what severity. Tissue damage: ankles - minor - probably sprained, or perhaps dislocated in the case of the limbs still wrapped in silk; upper back, shoulders and withers - relatively minor - probably whiplash and some bruising; neck - severe damage - probably several torn muscles, significant whiplash, extensive bruising.

With that out of the way, I prepared the next spell: this one would analyse damage to nerves and bone, and highlight the injuries in my vision rather than make me feel where they were - a good thing, since I wasn't in a hurry to feel that kind of pain again, even if it had momentarily cleared my emotional anguish via some sort of masochistic catharsis. Angling my horn towards the prone form of Twilight Sparkle, I ignited it in gold-tinged green and stood patiently while a small spark of light shot, comet-like, towards the unicorn; its impact triggering the rest of the rolling yellow flame to cascade over my own body before it, too, disappeared back into the ether.

My eyes glazed over in dimly sparkling amber and I could see quite easily the extent of the damage I had done: her ribs and legs on the left side were not merely dislocated as I had thought from the first spell, but also broken in several places, along with most of her ribs on that side. Her left hip and collarbone were both fractured, and her jaw was broken in three places on the right side, which had taken the impact after the violent swinging of her neck had ensured that specific spot would meet the hard stone first.

Surprisingly, her neck seemed to have survived without any of the vertebrae breaking to any real extent, but that did not mean that it hadn't suffered the most out of all of her: one of the bones in her neck was loose from the others, sitting in between the two halves of her severed spinal cord, and I had no doubt now about what had caused the sudden end to her stream of emotion.

Sighing heavily, I let my eyes return to normal and lit up my horn with the last spell, padding over to her side as if I were walking over graves in a cemetery, and leaning down to touch my jagged spire to her uniform spiral. The diagnostic spell lasted but a moment, and I immediately backed away upon its conclusion, adding the state of her brain and horn to the growing list of injuries in my head.

The tissue damage could heal itself in time, and if I brought in a team of professionals the damage to her bones could be repaired also, but the state of her spine was the real issue. There were ways of rejoining the cord, I knew, and the fortunately clean cut meant that such a spell was more likely to work, but the level of power and magical finesse needed was perhaps beyond even my own considerable skill, especially when taking into account that the stasis spell would have to stay up even through any medical procedure if Sparkle was going to stand any chance of surviving.

A team of specialists might be able to carry out the spell, but they would all be unicorns and therefore not powerful enough to penetrate the field simultaneously with casting the repair spell, and to give anyone else the task would run the very real risk of leaving gaps in the field unplugged by magic, something which could kill Sparkle before we realised something was wrong. A mental link might work, but that in itself would cause a great many problems: what pony would be comfortable enough sharing thoughts freely with a changeling, especially after my invasion, to be able to cast such a delicate spell? And we'd need at least half a dozen such ponies for it to have a chance of working - were there even that many spinal repair surgeons in the country?

A wave of dread and sorrow hit me and I sank to the cold, rough stone in a fit of mournful self-doubt. There was just too much which had to be perfect! Why did I have to let her fall? Why couldn't I have just caught her properly? Why did I have to vow to save her? Three mistakes grave enough to topple an empire, all in one day - how could I fool myself into thinking that this even stood a chance of working? It was hopeless... Just hopeless.

I lay there for what felt like days, contemplating the futility of life and cursing myself over and over for all the mistakes I could recall, and probably a few I made up on the spot. Eventually, though, I came back to the reason that I still pursued my impossible goal: I did not want to be a murderer, true enough, but most of all, Twilight Sparkle did not deserve to die. She had friends, family - even her country owed her thanks for her defeat of two would-be tyrants - and I, the third such threat she faced, had killed her through ineptitude. If I failed in my quest to save her, fair enough, but if I let her die by just walking away selfishly, I would be no better than Mother, the heartless, self-serving traitor of whom I had the dishonour of being a daughter.

I am not her...

I raised my head from the hard ground and reopened my teary eyes.

I will never be...

I forced down another shuddering sob and focused on reaffirming control over my body.

...Not now, not ever...

Shakily, I lifted myself up onto my hooves and looked down at the frozen unicorn.

...Twilight Sparkle will live again...

Jaw set determinedly, I turned away and strode from the scene.

...Even if it kills me, it would be worth it...

Looking back just once, I whisper a soft, heartfelt apology and run my hoof unconsciously over the mark burnt into my scalp.

...Just to prove forever that I am not my mother's child...

Letting my hoof drop back to my side, I leave the cavern without further pause, green fire engulfing me after a few paces and a sharp crack announcing my departure.

I flared back into being on the upper level of the palace, not far from my throne room and the dining hall in which I had convened with my advisors, and began to briskly trot my way to my command centre. Changelings of various castes and roles passed me as I strode towards my destination, with not a single pony to be seen anywhere in the stolen heart of their capital, and as this struck me, my thoughts drifted from the broken mare miles below me to her quite healthy counterpart: the curiously helpful unicorn who was very likely continuing her work in the throne room as I walked, and whose true motives remained a mystery to me.

The logical explanation for her wilfully given aid was that the mare was simply doing her best to survive in the very different world that I had thrust her homeland into, but it was interesting that she had formed such a loyalty to me in such a short time. Perhaps she had not been quite satisfied with my predecessors' reign and enjoyed the idea of being able to help change the way things were run - unlikely, given the ponies' worship of the alicorns, but not impossible by any stretch - or her botched teleport had damaged her worse than anyone had realised and made her more susceptible in general to forming amiable connections to others.

Ponies had been known to be rather naive in the past, so maybe part of her sudden allegiance stemmed from such naivety: it was entirely possible that my recent positive actions towards her were enough to convince her of my internal goodness, and in all honestly it was rare that an invading party would go to such lengths to preserve the lives of the invaded, nor was it typical of a ruling tyrant to heal a subject's injuries in exchange for a mere foal's errand.

It was, I decided, very likely a combination of all these reasons: coming out of the confusion and terror of her disastrous teleport only to be healed by the bizarrely kind-mannered leader of her nation's enemy would have laid the foundations for at least some positivity, and Scrolls's fear and will to survive had probably driven her to accept my offer of work. Follow that up with the revelation of my pacifistic invading army, my continued good treatment of the unicorn and my gentle handling of the Bearers of Harmony's interrogations and it was not quite so surprising after all that she'd be eager to keep on my good side by doing the best she could.

There was still a taint of surreality to her almost-enthusiastic help, but I pushed it aside, having no way to prove that there was anything untoward in the mare's intentions and not wishing to dwell on any more dark thoughts. Looking back, it seems likely that even then I was beginning to harbour feelings of friendship towards helpful, enigmatic Starlit Scrolls, and it is perhaps for this reason that I was so eager to avoid following the scent of doubt that her unusual behaviour had left.

Indeed, as I turned the corner and trotted up to the grand double doors of the throne room, I felt a small spark of happiness ignite at the thought of speaking with her again, and even the characteristically scowling face of my High Imperator could not quite erase my newfound glint of good feeling. The feeling grew stronger at the sight of Noble Mantle and my ever-loyal Praetorians, and I joined my subjects with a light-heartedness I had not felt for some time.

"My Queen," Noble greeted, sharply carving a salute as his mouth twitched at the corners into a small, but nevertheless warm, smile.

"Noble," I replied, with a nod and a smile of my own his way, before running my gaze over the rest of the gleaming-armoured entourage. "My trusted Praetorians... I hope today finds you all in good health: friends of mine as you are, it would not do to have you in an unsatisfactory condition."

The group did not respond directly for a moment, the majority angling their horns at Mantle's lieutenant, Praetorian Sub-Decanus Sabre Flourish, in transmission of their feelings. Taking a second to register all these inbound emotions, she straightened herself up and looked up at me with the ghost of a smile gracing her features.

"We are fine, Hive-Queen: all of us are quite well indeed, in both body and spirit; dear Tyria perhaps more so than the rest of us, being two weeks with foal as she now is. I myself hope to, uh... tie the knot, as the ponies say, in my own relationship before too long. Emerald and I had wanted to marry some months ago, but as they are wont to do, bigger events than even our special day came around and we have simply not had the time as yet. I'm sure Noble's life has not been dull, but that is his tale to tell."

After a moment to take this all in, the good news filtered through into my heart and I finally relaxed, smiling at my bodyguards and taking the time to respond to each and every piece of information.

"I'm glad to hear it," I said, generally, before turning to the Praetorian with royal purple eyes and beaming sincerely at the mare. "Congratulations, Tyria - if you ever feel that you need some time away from your post in order to carry your child, do not be afraid to ask, and good luck to both yourself and your husband in the time to come."

Turning back to Flourish, I aired my newly arrived thought with equal openness. "And Sabre, if your inability to find time to marry your own special someone stems from conflicting schedules, I would be more than happy to change things up so that you and your special someone can have your day... As for you, Noble, I hope that you would be able to regale me with recent events in your own life at lunch: for the moment, I have certain things to attend to which prevent me from chatting just now."

He did not allow much of a smile, retaining his professional demeanour, but buzzed me a burst of happiness as he spoke. "Of course, Your Highness, I would be honoured to join you for lunch. You needn't fret about leaving me mid-conversation, by the way; I understand that your duties must always be the priority, even amongst friends."

Thanking him, I turned away and glanced around for Starlit, the distinctive frequency of pony emotion drawing my view faster than even her bright colours could to her current position nested amongst mounds of paperwork. Smiling a little at the sight of her, tongue sticking sideways from her mouth and eyes screwed up in concentration, I made my calm, measured way to her kingdom of papers.

"Ms. Scrolls," I called, softer than I usually would so as not to startle the mare too much, and smiled reassuringly as she turned to face me with a look of surprise. "I see you have made good progress on your report, don't worry that it isn't yet finished; you shall have more than enough time to complete it later. For now, however, I need you for something else: pack your usual things, and I shall call for you when the time comes to leave."

"Of course, Your Highness," she replied and began sorting out the items she would need, though I soon paused her movements with a light touch on her shoulder.

"Starlit... I do appreciate the work you do for me... You know that, right? If there's anything you need, within reason, just ask."

She looked startled but grateful at my offer and hurried to thank me, though the wave of gratitude that washed over me had already served that purpose unbeknownst to the mare. "Thank you, My Queen...I'm just doing my best for Equestria, even if it is under new management for the time being."

Her words gave me momentary pause, before I followed on from her statement:"As am I..."

As she made herself busy arranging her equipment, I turned away, searching for my fellow royal, Princess Maxilla, and the ever-grim High Imperator. This did not take too long, since Maxilla was easily visible, surrounded as she was by her own silvery-armoured Praetorian Guard, and Labium was still where I had seen him on entry to the room, coldly surveying his subordinates.

Buzzing each of them with a stream of urgency, I gestured for them to follow me and made my careful way out of the packed chambers and into the more deserted hallway. I had something more important than most issues to discuss with them, and I did not particularly want every changeling in the throne room overhearing and roaming free with that information, especially since a great many of them were parts of military units and therefore inevitable transmitters of such knowledge.

Finding myself near one of the palace's many balconies, I made my way over to the railing and looked out over the landscape many miles below, waiting patiently for the others to catch up to me. It was a beautiful land, I mused, and I found myself suddenly even more proud of the non-lethal approach my soldiers had taken in capturing the area: such a view might likely have been scarred by mage-fire and corpses had we gone in all horns blazing.

The sound of hoofsteps, along with the following silence, alerted me to the presence of my colleagues, and I turned to face them with professional efficiency.

"Princess, Imperator," I greeted, not bothering with unnecessary niceties.

They responded in kind with an unanimous "Your Highness," and I steeled myself in preparation for the coming conversation.

"I shall keep this short for I have important business to attend to today, but I require some input from the both of you regarding Princess Cadance, specifically where and how we are to contain her, since I am no longer convinced that the crystal caverns are sufficiently secure.

"I have made plans to separate a section off a small portion of the palace for the Bearers of Harmony to be housed in. This would be an easily fortifiable part of the building, and one which would be guarded extensively both against unauthorised entrants and escapees. This will be constructed in return for important information on the Elements of Harmony and the defence of Equestria as a whole, and should enable us to negotiate more easily with Princess Celestia since she has a personal connection with the Bearers. It will also discourage Princess Luna from attacking us with her most powerful magic since the Bearers would be right in the firing line.

"The relevance of this to Princess Cadance is that I am contemplating installing more powerful magic-suppression systems and housing her and her fiancé there along with the Bearers. I realise that this would present a greater singular threat than keeping her in the caverns would, but while she might have been able to exit relatively undetected from the caves, she would be up against our full occupational forces the moment she attempted an escape."

Labium was the first to speak his ever-skeptical mind, the buzz of near-condescension that washed over me as I had spoken having forewarned me of the kind of response he was likely to give, though that did not make it any less frustrating to hear.

"You want to move the alicorn which took half a battalion along with your own efforts to subdue, and give her a quarter of the palace?"

His tone of mocking pseudo-incredulity irritated me greatly, and I made doubly sure that my response shot down any attempt by Labium to gain a foothold in superiority by delivering a sharp counter to each and every one of his implied meanings.

"Her magic is bound for the time being, and both your Legionaries and I were half-starved and magically exhausted even before that skirmish. She does not pose anywhere near the same threat she did then, and I am stronger now than I have ever been in my life. Additionally, were she foalish enough to attempt an escape, we have more than enough soldiers to prevent her leaving the building, let alone getting away long enough to unbind her magic and beginning to pose a threat... And it would hardly be a quarter of the palace, dear Imperator: we'd need just one of this building's myriad rooms to house her, another room in which she and the Bearers can eat, and a bathroom. It would barely be more than a side corridor, Labium, so kindly stop the over-exaggeration and pay my words some heed."

"Apologies, Your Highness," he said, though the buzz of emotions from him were part anger, part amusement rather than any real measure of remorse. "It was not my intention to offend you, but merely to put forth my concerns."

I let the irritation in my heart stand in for a verbal answer and chose not to waste any more time on perhaps the least pleasant of my advisory circle, instead turning to Maxilla and attempting to gauge her reaction with sight and emotion-sensing alone. She looked thoughtful, brow creased in concentration, and the swirl of emotion I was receiving from her revealed her mental state as one of conflict, although one that I could feel clearing with the lessening of the buzz in my horn.

"And you, Princess Maxilla? What do you think?"

She looked up sharply at the sound of my voice, the buzz of emotion flaring momentarily before settling down into a more ordered stream of feelings, and took a moment longer to answer.

"I think... I think it could work. We'd need more guards than she currently has, and far more wards if she is to have the autonomy you seem to be suggesting, but it might work out well. Certainly, she cannot stay where she is at the moment, but whether this or simply a reinforced cell in the dungeons is the best spot to relocate her is another matter entirely. Bring it up with the rest of the circle, see what they think - it wouldn't hurt to have a wider source of opinions on such a serious matter, after all. But, to answer your question... Tentatively yes."

"Thank you, Maxilla. Now, unless our High Imperator has anything to add, I have a certain sun-commanding alicorn to negotiate with. Good day, both of you."

With no further comment from Labium, I made to leave, but the princess called out to me, a buzz of nervous hope hitting my horn as she spoke and making me pause, looking back at her over my shoulder.

"What is it, Maxilla?" I enquired, scanning her eyes for any sign of what had made her so suddenly full of hope.

"I would like to go with you when you converse with Princess Celestia, if I may. I know my role in leadership is not quite as significant as your own, but I would prefer to be present for such negotiations as these, if at all possible. It should be interesting meeting the fabled Celestia in person, as well: word of mouth does not give quite the same judgement of character as meeting someone yourself."

I hummed thoughtfully, considering her request. It was likely that she was as excited at the prospect of meeting the one being in living memory to achieve the royal's lifetime aspiration as she was eager to take a more direct role in politics after her relative sidelining following the unification. Ordinarily, such emotion towards the thought of meeting an important party would be cause for concern, but in this case I did not believe it could cause much harm, and may even help win the ancient monarch over.

"I don't see why not. Come along then, Maxilla, Ms. Scrolls is waiting for us back at the throne room."

Labium's cutting gaze followed us as we left, and I found that I could not sense enough of his emotions to garner an understanding of what the old soldier was thinking. Brushing it off in what was quickly becoming a bad habit, I led the way back to the throne room and my almost-friend. With a bit of luck, the meeting would put us a little closer to achieving our goals, even if it was unlikely to garner us any immediate allegiance or even amity from Celestia.

Either way, at least it would distract me from her.