XV: Seeds of Strife
Twilight stared at Princess Celestia, trying to think of the right question, something the princess could not brush off or answer with ambiguity. Her teacher’s cryptic remarks really were frustrating sometimes. The tale itself was detailed enough, but when pressed for answers, Celestia absolutely refused to “skip ahead.” It was a story, she argued, and it needed to be told the right way. Twilight did not necessarily agree, but how could she complain? An immortal being was telling her tale to a pony who was, by all rights, an infant in comparison. Any frustration she felt was outweighed by the simple gratitude that she could hear it firsthand, and the knowledge that all the answers would come in time.
And yet, as the princess gave her that coy smile back, Twilight could not help but feel like Celestia enjoyed her impatience. It was almost as if Twilight were a filly in the classroom, and her older, wiser, grown-up teacher was taunting her with that frustrating phrase she had heard so many times before: “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Or, perhaps more accurately, an older classmate teasing her with those maddening, childish words, “I know something you don’t know.”
Twilight tried to hide her sigh of disappointment, and was not entirely successful. “So. You gained his respect.”
The princess brought her teacup up to her mouth, allowing herself a much needed moment to smother her smile.
Twilight tapped her hoof with impatience. She almost wished the tea was not there; she liked it well enough, but it gave her mentor an excuse to stop, or else hide some expression of emotion Twilight would liked to have seen. Instead, she was able to take a sip whenever and for however long it pleased her, until she could pretend like it was nothing.
When Celestia brought the cup back down, it was almost gone, though her lips were still pursed and trembling ever so slightly in what seemed to be a suppressed smile.
“That is correct.” The simple act of speaking allowed Celestia to regain her composure, and resume an expression that was mostly serious.
“And this was important to you?”
“Hmm.” The princess contemplated for a moment. “Well, he saved my life, in a way, and I saved his. It’s not that I felt indebted to him. In fact, I was quite vindictive about the way he had been treating me.” She sighed. “There was much I did not know back then. But I suppose, in a way, I always felt...”
She trailed off, trying to find the right words. Eventually, she seemed to give up, and followed with, “Yes, it was important to me.”
“But he was so… well, he was a jerk!” The princess raised an eyebrow, but Twilight continued regardless. “You wanted his respect, but it doesn’t seem like he wanted yours.”
“Oh, he wanted my respect,” the princess amusedly remarked, “after I beat him in the dueling ring.”
Twilight frowned, and Celestia could practically see the thought forming in her head. It was a technicality. You didn’t actually beat him at all. She spoke before Twilight could ask.
“Aside from at the hooves of Daylight, he had been undefeated in years. Granted, after he became a Lieutenant, and eventually, a Commander, he did not have the time to use the ring very frequently. Even still, he remained the undisputed champion of it. Nopony had beaten him, even on a technicality, in a long, long time. He was curious about me. Everypony was curious about me, I was curious about me, but Lucky… he really did wonder.”
The princess paused. “As for myself… think of it like this. Lucky was supposed to be my instructor. Have you ever wanted the respect of somepony, just because you knew they were going to teach you? Because you wanted to show them you learned something, or because their respect was a symbol of your own accomplishment?”
Twilight briefly looked at her mentor, whose eyes were locked on her own. The question was obviously leading, as she instantly thought of her own relationship with the princess. It was not the quite the same, but Twilight thought she could see her reasoning.
“Yes, I have,” she responded.
“Well…” Celestia shrugged, and smiled.
Twilight’s head went back to her notes. The princess waited for her to finish. After she had scratched a line or two into her parchment, Twilight shuffled the papers together, and cleared her throat.
“So, the day was April 29th, 50au. It was a Monday.”
“That’s correct. Impressive. Somepony has been paying attention.”
“Thank you.” Twilight allowed herself a quick blush before continuing. “So, when did you continue your training? Your real training, I mean.”
“Exactly six days later, I had recovered enough to resume my regimen with the regulars of the 21st. However,” she added, making Twilight finish writing a note with extra speed. “Before that, they held a meeting.”
Twilight looked up. “Who did? The Royal Council?”
Celestia nodded. “They held a meeting every so often anyways, but the point of this one was, among other things, to check on my progress, to plan the redeployment of the 21st, and to ‘show me off’ to a... wider audience.”
“Oh, okay. Well, how did that go?”
Celestia could see Twilight did not yet realize the importance of this particular event. Perhaps she thought it was just another detail. Not a boring one; Twilight never found Equestrian history to be a boring subject, no matter how minute the detail might be. However, some things were less important than others.
Celestia did not blame her for thinking so. Nopony in their right mind could have expected the incidents of that day. Clover the Clever, Apple Crumble, the whole Royal Council, even Celestia herself; they had all been caught off guard. Perhaps Lucky had been the most ready, and even still, things went poorly for him.
Her countenance fell, and her tone was grim. “Not very well.”
Twilight was surprised at the sudden darkness in her mentor’s voice. It was almost as if she had forced herself to say it. There were times when she was slow and thoughtful, hesitant even, but Princess Celestia had never been anything but truthful to her pupil. Now, it seemed as though she were actually struggling. Or perhaps Twilight had imagined it?
She must have been. Taking a second look, any trace of darkness in Celestia’s expression, real or imagined, was gone, smothered by tranquility. Nevertheless, Twilight’s curiosity was piqued.
“Why not?”
**********
Deep morning light seeped into the room through mostly closed curtains, streaming onto the sheets of a dormant bed. The beams of light glinted and reflected off of motes of dust, almost appearing as hard columns of gentle, orange brilliance. The air was still, and the dust was tranquilly drifting in all directions. The quietude of the place made it seem like a veritable sanctuary.
That was until the far door slammed open, and a little cyan unicorn came briskly trotting through.
“Good morning, Celly! Wakey wakey, it’s day breaky!”
Cotton trotted up to the side of bed, and planted her hooves on the frame.
“Come on, sleepyhead. The meeting is in an hour. We’ve gotta get you in tip-top shape!”
There was no response, not a shifting of blankets or even a tired groan. The alicorn-shaped lump beneath the covers was practically lifeless.
“Oh, c’mon, Celly. It’s not so bad. It’ll only be for a little bit, and afterwards, I can introduce you to Coffee! He said he wants to meet you.”
No response. She frowned, ran out of the room, and returned with an item in hoof.
“Look, I’ve got cotton candy. Purple flavored!” Cotton waved it around the room as she danced up to the bedside. She brought it to her nose, and gave it a deep whiff.
“Mmmm… don’t you want some?” She wagged it above the bed, right next to a lump in the blankets that was probably Celestia’s head. “I made this one with extra love! Just taste it!” Cotton began poking the blankets with the candy, leaving tiny splotches of purple here and there. She frowned, surprised and disappointed at the continued lack of response.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice.” She pushed off of the bed and took a few careful steps back, measuring until she was at a precise distance. When she finally stopped, she put the handle-end of the cotton candy into her mouth, and dragged a hoof along the floor. Snorting through her nostrils once, she charged forward, and leapt into the air, setting herself on a wild collision course with the bed.
She released the candy into her hoof in midair, and gave a loud battle cry. “Cotton Candy Hammer of Justice!”
Half a second later, she landed on the bed, and brought the ‘hammer’ down. At the same time, she employed one of her most practiced skills, and began simultaneously tickling the lump of blankets.
Cotton giggled joyously, jabbing with one hoof and swinging an utterly soft hammer with the other, until slowly, her activity died down, and her laughter faded. Something was not right. She frowned, and tossed the candy away. It hit the wall in the corner of the room, bounced, and came to rest on the top of a pile of a dozen other cotton candy cones, already stockpiled in Celestia’s room to ensure she did not “starve to death”. Cotton grabbed the edge of the blankets.
“Celly?” she called, concern creeping into her voice.
She pulled the covers back to reveal an alarming lack of sleeping alicorns. What she had thought to look like a lump of pillows underneath blankets actually was a lump of pillows underneath blankets, arranged into the rough shape of a pony.
Cotton gasped. “Celly! You’ve turned into blankets!”
This time, there was a response. “Gotcha.”
Cotton looked towards the sound of the noise. Directly above her was Celestia, stealthily clinging onto one of the support beams on the ceiling. Her body shook with exertion in maintaining the maneuver. One of her eyes were closed, and the other was at a squint. On her face was a smile, strained with effort, but mischievous and triumphant.
Cotton breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, there you are! You sure got me!” She waved a good-natured hoof at the ceiling, admitting her defeat. “Now come on down from there, so we can-”
“Hiiii-YA!”
Without warning, Celestia dropped from the ceiling and tackled Cotton to the bed, pinning her against the cushions. With much less practiced hooves, but hooves that were eager nonetheless, the alicorn jabbed at her with gleeful fury. Cotton laughed until she was red in the face, half at the situation, and half at the poking in her sides.
Celestia laughed just as hard. She forgot all her training, forgot her injuries, forgot the meeting, forgot herself, and became blissfully lost in happiness. This was what it felt like to have friends, to feel accepted among ponies, even if, for now, it was only one. As Cotton had said, “you must feel good about you.” She did, and it made her want to laugh until her lungs were sore.
None of her previous accomplishments mattered. Not her magic, her flight, nor even her miraculous dueling. At the moment, this felt like her greatest and happiest triumph yet, even as she was suddenly flipped, and found herself on the receiving end of a barrage of tickles. It truly was a victory.
**********
The Ponies’ Courthouse was more crowded than ever, positively overflowing with spectators. Celestia had thought it impossible to fit any more bodies inside ― she was wrong. The seats inside were, once again, filled to the maximum and then some, both on the first floor and the balcony. Ponies of every race sat haunch to haunch, not minding the closeness, so long as they could get another good look at the curious creature with wings and a horn.
Even the diplomats’ floor seemed more crowded than usual. In attendance were ponies from all over, politicians and citizens from Canterlot and far beyond. Word only had so long to get out about the last meeting, but now that Celestia had been in Canterlot for over two weeks, nearly everypony had heard the news. An alicorn had arrived in Canterlot, and one that was not evil, no less! Or so, rumor had it.
Nearly half an hour before the meeting began, Celestia had been escorted next to her table, which, this time, was nestled snugly in between the tables of Clover the Clever and Lucky Break. Her seat was only yards away from either of them, easily within talking distance. Next to Lucky sat Crumble, the both of them chatting conversationally, adding to the dull chatter of the spectators around them. Next to Clover was a mage she did not recognize. Even as Celestia found her seat, the two of them rose to acknowledge her.
“Celestia!” Clover happily greeted.
“Good greetings, Clover.” Celestia nodded.
“Greetings! How do you fare, this fine morning?” She smiled.
Celestia smiled back. “Very well, thank you.” She noted that the Master-Adept seemed to be in a particularly good mood.
“I would like you to meet one of my students.” Clover stepped to the side, and swept her arm towards the stranger, who stepped towards her.
“Hello,” the unicorn mage said kindly. “Nice to finally meet you. I am Adept Reverie.” Her voice had a slight roughness to it, but was not unpleasant.
She put her hoof forward, which Celestia summarily shook. She was very pretty, thought Celestia. A straight, multicolored mane ran down the side of her neck and across her eyes. Warm reds, oranges, and yellows all accented the cream of her coat very nicely. She was young, perhaps the same age as Celestia herself. Draped over her back was a mage’s cloak similar to Clover’s, though it was not quite as deep of a navy blue.
“Well met, Reverie. I am Celestia.” Her hoof dropped back to the floor, and she looked the mage over. All across the exposed parts of her coat were horrific scratches and bites, and though her fur had been neatly combed over to hide the marks, they were still very much visible. More than just scars, these were wounds that had only recently closed.
Suddenly, Celestia recognized her. It was one of the mages that had stayed behind to defend her, all those weeks ago.
“Are you…?”
“The other one who escaped from Canterbury?” she finished. “The very same.”
Celestia frowned, and gave her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry to have been the cause of so much trouble.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it.” She winked at Celestia. “And don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault. Besides, I can take care of myself. The Arch-Mage isn’t the only one who can teleport.”
Celestia gave Reverie’s scars another involuntary glance. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”
Though it was quick, Reverie saw Celestia’s gaze wander. She almost ashamedly crossed her front legs and pulled her cloak tighter, hiding some of the more worrisome injuries. “I’m okay. Really. I know it doesn’t look it, but the doctors did a good job. I feel like a new mare!” A determined fire lit in her eyes. “In fact, Discord had better watch his back, ‘cause I’m ready to go back out right now!”
She popped up onto her hind legs, and threw a few punches with her forehooves. Celestia took a step back, and gave a surprised smile. She envied her bravado.
“Yes, well, I don’t know about that,” Clover interrupted, putting a hoof on Reverie’s back and gently nudging her down. “But she did make a miraculous recovery in the hospital.”
Celestia jumped as a voice boomed from behind her. “’Course she did!”
She turned to see Apple Crumble, towering over her. She shuffled out of the way as he stepped forward.
“She used to be one o’ the Maiden’s finest, until she took the easy job!” He guffawed, a smile on his face.
“Really?” Celestia questioned.
Reverie did not seem to hear. She jabbed at him with a hoof and smiled. “Hey, whose job is easy? I summoned an alicorn, and then escaped from Discord himself! And then, I walked back to Canterlot on four injured legs! Four! Let’s see you do that, oldie!”
Crumble had a response forming on his lips, when another voice came from behind. “Adept Reverie.”
Celestia looked back again to see Lucky Break walking towards them.
“Hey there, Lieutenant.” Reverie swung a hoof in his direction. “Er, sorry. I guess it’s Commander now, huh?”
He stopped next to Crumble. Celestia inched away, ever so slightly.
“Indeed it is.” He put his hoof forward, and the two of them shook. His tone was polite and businesslike, very much like a Commander inspecting one of his troops. “It’s good to see you safe. How are you?”
Reverie looked at her surroundings, and gave a relieved, breathy sigh. “A lot better, now that I’m here.”
“Good, good to hear.” Lucky nodded. “After so many weeks, we assumed the worst.”
She shrugged with her shoulders, and tilted her head. “Don’t worry about it. Everypony did. I’m just glad to be back.”
“Yes.” Lucky’s tone was contemplative. Celestia was not sure why, but it seemed oddly out of place.
“I know it’s soon, but I’m curious, and I’ve been meaning to ask — How did you escape?”
Celestia’s eyebrows raised. He was right, it was a little soon to be asking that question. Nevertheless, the Adept did not seem to be bothered by it.
“Nah, I don’t mind. Except… well, that’s the thing, Lieutenant. Er, my bad. Commander.” She scratched her head. “I don’t really remember.”
Lucky’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t?”
She only shrugged. “Not really. I was fighting some of Discord’s baddies, when Frostcloak went down. I turned to help him, but then I remember taking a blow to the head. It gets a little fuzzy after that. I think it gave me a concussion, but I figure I must have kept on fighting anyways, because the next thing I know, I’m wandering towards Canterlot.”
“That’s a long journey. Are you sure you don’t remember any of it?”
“Nope. I know, it’s strange. Must’ve been one nasty concussion. That’s what they said at the hospital, anyways. Sorry Lieu- Sorry, Commander.”
“Did you stop at any-”
Lucky was stopped as a horn sounded from the second floor balcony, announcing the near-commencement of the meeting, and the arrival of some special guests.
“Oh! We’ll catch up later, Lieutenant. And Crumble,” Reverie said, holding a hoof forward, “Nice to see ya, man.”
Crumble grinned, thrust his hoof forward to bump hers, and everypony began walking back to their seats. As they passed behind her, Celestia heard Crumble and Lucky muttering to each other.
“…wrong? I know yeh know somethin’s wrong.”
“Yeah, something’s wrong.”
Crumble growled. “Blast. Do yeh know what?”
“No. Can’t put my hoof on it. Where are my weapons…?”
And that was it. They took their seats and waited for the meeting to begin.
The diplomat’s floor was already crowded with ponies, but an entire half of the room held only empty tables. Celestia did not have long to wonder why, as she saw the ‘special guests’ walk into the room.
Griffons, four of them, were escorted by a mixed entourage of Royal Guards and elite griffon soldiers. She almost jumped in surprise; they were bigger than she expected, half again the size of a normal pony. Though, she realized she had never seen a griffon before. What had she been expecting?
They walked to a larger table prepared specifically for them, and took a seat. Their diplomats were observant and aloof, not unlike their pony counterparts. However, their warriors’ appearance seemed, to Celestia, to be a bit more… savage, almost, as if they were armored beasts rather than soldiers. Their metal armor had sharp spikes jutting on many sides, which she suspected to be just as practical as it was decorative. In many places, the metal of their armor was painted over with markings, symbols of the griffon culture. They carried no weapons, but each had metal gauntlets over their claws that clicked on the marble floor with each step. Over each talon was a long, metal piece that seemed to be a sharper extension of their natural claw. Overall, it very much gave them an intimidating aura, not one of a mere soldier, but rather an able-bodied predator.
Even if their appearance was savage, their mannerism was not. As they marched in, they kept perfect rank and file, standing very proudly behind their superiors. As the griffon politicians sat, one of the elites posted a banner behind them, a claw grasping three arrows, encircled with a gold ribbon. Celestia briefly wondered what it would be like to fight alongside them, and in the same beat, wondered what it would be like to fight against them. She came to the easy conclusion that she would rather not find out.
The diversity did not stop with the griffons. Next to them, a group of zebras took their seats, their diplomats adorned with golden jewelry around their hooves, necks, and ears. The Zebrican soldiers behind them carried either long spears, or strange swords that were curved backward like scythes. They were dressed with curious wooden armor, held together by cloth straps. On their heads, instead of helmets, they wore wooden, tribal masks, carved with intimidating expressions of war. Celestia did not think it looked very defensible, but when she questioned Clover about it, she had told her that the zebras were master alchemists. For what they lacked in magic, they made up for in potions and brews of all kinds, many of which could be considered magical themselves.
“For example,” Clover whispered, pointing to the zebra soldiers, “Their elite soldiers, the Yangombi Umpakati, wear wooden armor because it is imbued with special properties. The wood is treated with a solution that makes it harder than traditional steel, and since it is wood, it weighs half as much.”
She sounded almost jealous, not of the armor, but of the science and magic going into it.
Next to the zebras, seated at a table that was even taller than the griffons’, was a group of badland hounds. Their representatives were dressed in thick, rough, flowing desert cloth that wrapped across their torsos in large folds. The style was very indicative of their homeland, the harsh deserts and rocky badlands to the far south. Much of their clothing was also studded with gleaming gems of all colors, so much so that Celestia thought it looked uncomfortable to wear. It was no wonder that the hounds were more commonly known among ponykind as “diamond dogs.”
The hound elite soldiers stood vigilant behind them, holding spears, glaives, or scimitars in their huge forepaws. They wore simple steel armor, and, while they did not have the military professionalism of the griffons, or the exotic poise of the zebras, they were intimidating nonetheless. For any lacking they had in grace, they made up for in sheer physique, looking as though they might play the role of heavy infantry on the battlefield. They certainly had the weapons, muscles, and mass for the job.
Finally, marching last in the long line of diplomats and taking their seat next to the hounds, were the donkeys. Their clothing was very similar to the diamond dogs’, which, Celestia supposed, was only natural, seeing as they also made their home in the southern deserts. Their flowing desert cloth, while not adorned with gems, was of no lesser quality; the donkeys were shrewd traders, and their wealth showed for it. Many were nomadic, traveling in caravans to sell their wares to their best customers, the ponies of Equestria. Because of this, the donkeys themselves were very intertwined with Equestrian culture, so much so that many of them had simply settled down to live there. Regardless, they had their own proud culture, their own lands, and therefore, their own representatives.
The donkeys’ elite warriors wore all black, a choice Celestia thought strange, especially considering the deserts they hailed from. Aside from the clothing, which was not particularly thick, they wore little to no armor, which again, Celestia found strange. Apparently, the color was supposed to help with nighttime stealth, and the tight fit of the cloth, with mobility. With their bound limbs and stoic expressions, they had a mystique to rival the zebras. Their swords were straight and single-edged, and appeared to be very sharp. For all their stoicism, they seemed to regard their proximity to the diamond dogs with a measure of disgust.
Diplomats of every size, shape, and indeed, race, took their seats. With so many different species in one place, it seemed to be a veritable zoo. Everypony, or rather, everybody was quiet, as Governor Bottom Line was escorted into the room, towards her stand.
Celestia thought she would have been more comfortable, now that she had a few weeks to acclimate to Canterlot and the ponies that lived there, and vice versa. Perhaps she even had been for a small while. Then, the foreign diplomats had entered, and as she looked around, she realized that all of their eyes were on her, griffon, zebra, diamond dog, and donkey alike. It was not such a nerve-wracking experience as before; she had come to terms with herself, at least in part, and was on the road to making other ponies accept her as well. She did not care so much for the approval of these newcomers, and yet, it was still enough to make her fidget with discomfort.
She distracted herself by looking at the crowd above. Many of the ponies were also looking at her, but as she stared into their eyes, she did not see the animosity she had half-expected. Instead, they were only curious, and she supposed she could not begrudge them for that.
Celestia tried to spot Cotton in the crowd. It took only a moment; she was on the first floor, sitting on the front row, in perfect view. However, Celestia could not seem to catch her eyes. Cotton’s head was swiveling back and forth, her curly mane bouncing with her movement. Anxiety was clear on her features. Was she looking for somepony, too? Celestia remembered what she had said about one of her friends, a pony named “Coffee”. Celestia saw no coffee-colored stallion, nor did she see anypony with a coffee-related cutie mark. Though she knew names could be deceiving, nopony seemed to be chatting with Cotton, and Celestia could only assume he had not shown up.
If that was the case, apparently it was important. Cotton stood up from her bench, squeezed through several ponies to the isle, and walked toward the exit. Celestia tried waving, but to no avail.
“Cotton!” Celestia whispered, even though there was no way she could hear. Her spirits dropped as Cotton walked out the door, and disappeared from sight. She inwardly sighed. They had promised to make silly faces at each other.
“Order!” Governor Line demanded, cracking a gavel onto her stand. She did not need to say it very loud, or wait very long.
“Greetings, one and all. Equestria extends a hoof of fellowship and utmost gratitude to those who could make it today.”
The governor turned to the foreign tables, and acknowledged them individually. “Griffons, of Aquileos, welcome. Zebras, of Zebrica, welcome. Hounds of the Southern Badlands, welcome. Donkeys, of the Southern Deserts, welcome. We wish to excuse the dragons and the buffalo, whose representatives were unable to attend.”
Celestia sighed. She was not sure if she had the stamina to stand another meeting. Regardless, it seemed to go on without waiting for her approval.
“Now, let us begin. Scribe Blot, the war reports, if you please…”
**********
A loud banging echoed throughout the empty street.
“Hey! Coffee!”
There was no response. Cotton rapped on the door even harder.
“Heyyyyyy!”
Still, there was nothing.
The city buildings around them were deathly quiet. Shops were closed, streets were empty, and Canterlot seemed utterly abandoned. Absent was the usual hustle and bustle of Equestrian industry; the city itself seemed to have taken brief vacation. Nearly everypony was at the courthouse, and those who were not were either having fun outside of the walls, or else staying home and resting. Why would they go to work? The city was sleeping; there was no work to do.
“Coffee!” She gave another series of knocks, to no avail.
In this tiny corner of Canterlot, there was very little activity, even on a normal day. That was why Coffee had chosen to live here; he liked his solitude, though she did not know why anypony would choose to isolate themselves like he did. Most ponies were social creatures. Cotton herself was a social butterfly. Perhaps Coffee was different?
Perhaps, Cotton thought, but he never seemed particularly happy when he was alone. In fact, sometimes he was downright depressed, and it was not difficult for Cotton to guess why. When he came to Canterlot all those years ago, Cotton had seen somepony who needed some serious cheering up, and since then, it had been her undying mission to do so. It took a while, but he had warmed up to her, and they became friends.
Even though it had been years, his demeanor was not naturally cheerful. Regardless, Cotton had “taught him some things,” as he had put it, and who knew she would have learned so much in return?
That did not stop her from pounding on his door, yelling his name with frustration.
“Coffee! You open this door at once!”
The only sounds were an excited buzz coming from the courthouse a couple miles away, Cotton’s hooves pounding on the wooden door, and her voice echoing up and down the otherwise silent street-
Suddenly, as if to answer her knocking, from within the small stone dwelling came a dull, powerful bang! It shook the ground below her, and was muffled by the stone, but was all the more distinctive for it, especially considering the voice that came after it. Inside the house, presumably in the basement, somepony was angrily yelling. The tongue was foreign, but Cotton knew enough of it to recognize it as shouted profanities.
This sort of happening used to scare the ponies of Canterlot; indeed, after Coffee had moved into the tiny, cottage-like house, many of his neighbors had moved away. After so many years, however, the lights and sounds had become as commonplace as lightning and thunder, something to note, perhaps even something to be startled at, but certainly not something to fear. Not usually, anyways; lightning strikes were rare, but not unheard of.
Coffee was eventually regarded as less of an outcast, and more as the friendly neighborhood witch doctor, an urban shaman working metal miracles. He was an oddity, for sure, but there was nothing he did that could not be waved away and explained with the simple, “That’s just Coffee.”
And when it came down to it, who could shun a patriot? He was, after all, Equestria’s finest weapons engineer.
In any case, Cotton was not afraid. She was far too familiar with malfunctioning machinery to be anxious about a measly explosion. She reared back on her hind legs, and rapidly knocked with both hooves, one after the other.
“I know you’re in there!”
The angry voice from within the house came to a sudden stop, and Cotton ceased her knocking. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, it called to her through the stone, tentative but loud.
“Cotton?”
“Coffee!” She called back. There was another silence. She scowled.
“Don’t make me come in through the window! I’ll do it!” She reared back a second time, and pounded several times with both hooves at once.
The voice responded quickly. “Hold your horses! I’m coming, I’m coming!”
There was crash, the sound of metal banging against metal, followed by yet another string of foreign curses. She heard a pair of steps ascend a staircase to the ground floor, and walk to the door. Metallic clicks and clacks sounded from behind the wood as locks were undone and bolts retracted. Cotton rolled her eyes; she never did understand why Coffee had so many locks on his door. Then again, she did not understand many of the things he did.
The door swung open. Coffee stood there, face and mane blackened by grease and, if Cotton was not mistaken, ash. He sipped at a large, steaming mug of his namesake.
“Hello,” he said. He retrieved a rag from a coat pocket, and wiped his face with it. The cloth was already black as pitch, and did not do anything but rearrange the grime. He swept some of the ash out of his mane, shaking away the black to reveal some of the natural brown.
She did not speak, only staring at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. He briefly looked at her, then poked his head out into the open air, looking up and down the street.
“Where is everybody?” he asked, stowing his dirty rag back into his overcoat. His voice was rough, and he spoke with a slight accent.
Cotton did not respond, change her expression, or even shift her gaze away. Coffee shrugged, took a sip of his drink, and looked back at her. Seeing her expression, he raised an eyebrow, and backed up a step.
“What?” he said defensively.
He was much, much taller than her, and she had to look up while she spoke. Regardless of the difference in height, she did not seem intimidated. In fact, if anypony was intimidating, it was her.
“You know what,” she said dangerously. “You are in a lot of trouble, mister.”
Coffee hesitated. “…What?”
Cotton sighed. “The meeting! The meeting is today, Coffee!” Some of the hardness left her features, and her voice shifted from accusation to disappointment.
“You said you were going to be there! I saved you a seat and everything!” She looked away, and gazed longingly in the direction of the courthouse. “And I had snacks, and afterwards, we were going to meet Celestia! You said you wanted to meet her.”
Before Coffee could think about it, there was another loud bang behind them, echoing up from the basement and through the stairway. He swore, and rushed back inside, accidentally dropping his mug and spilling its contents all over the floor.
“Uh, just come on in, Cotton! I’ll be back in a second!” He rushed away, his green overcoat trailing behind him.
Cotton walked inside, and shut the door behind her, carefully stepping around the brown liquid. As always, his house was a mess, recent spill notwithstanding. What might have once been a kitchen looked more like a drawing studio, with counters covered in blueprints and charcoal pencils. What might have been a comfortable living area was littered with tools, parts, and scraps, made from all calibers of metal. Gleaming steel mingled with rusted iron, covering almost every open surface in sizes both great and minute. Cotton had been in the cottage many times before, but she always had to watch her step. More than once, she had stepped on a creation smaller than her hoof, only to discover later that it was a delicate, one-of-a-kind component to some important machine.
Before the liquid could spill onto any of Coffee’s prized components, Cotton grabbed one of his cleaner rags, and began to wipe it up.
There was another bang, and smoke began to billow forth from the basement. After she was done with the liquid, she instinctively crept through the metalwork to one of the walls, and opened a window.
After another minute, a few more bangs, and much frustrated yelling, the column of smoke ceased to be, and Coffee ascended from his basement, features once again covered pitch blackness. He wiped his face with his dirty rag.
“What was all that smoke from?” Cotton asked, coughing a bit of it out of her lungs.
“Oh, just a malfunctioning cannon they want me to fix. Something’s wrong with the burst chamber. Whenever the pin hits the primer, the compression detonates wrong. The pressure isn’t being directed properly for some reason, and it’s cracking the metal. Apparently, some poor soldier took some flak to the shoulder after it fired and the barrel just exploded.”
“Well, have you tried resealing the casing?” Cotton offered, still waving smoke out of the air.
“Yeah, I’ve welded it back up, but it keeps cracking in that one spot. And before you ask, yes, I’ve gotten new compression samples and new cannonballs, so I know it’s not that. I’m thinking I’ll have to go in and tinker with the firing pin. But I can do that later. Actually, I’m glad you’re here! I’ve got something to show you!”
I’m glad you’re here. Oh, how long she had worked to hear those words come out of his mouth.
“Actually, Coffee, the reason I came is because you promised to-”
“Yeah, yeah, just one second. You have to see my new invention.” He went to one corner of the room, and opened a chest. It was not long before he found what he was looking for. He grabbed some device, and thrust into the air, regarding it with pride. Cotton’s horn glowed as she raised it out of his grasp to get a better look, her spiral magic making it rotate slowly in the air. He gave it a surprised look, grabbed it away from the telekinesis, and returned to Cotton.
“Okay, look at this. I call it the ‘hookshot’.” He thrust it towards Cotton, who shied away from it.
“We really don’t have time to-”
“I know, I know, just try it out for me!” He pushed it a little further towards her. Cotton looked at it skeptically.
“Can’t you test it yourself?”
“Well, yeah. I have. But you know it’s not the same.”
Cotton’s gaze went from the hookshot, to Coffee, and back to the hookshot.
“Alright,” she said, slowly grabbing it with a hoof, “but if this explodes like last time, you owe me some free maintenance on my candy machines. And bandages.”
“I always do free maintenance on your machines.”
“And the bandages?”
“I ran out.” Coffee shrugged. “You worry too much.”
Cotton looked again at the hookshot. It was in the shape of a long cylinder, with a circular opening at the base that she assumed she could slide around her hoof. On the end was a wide triangle spearhead, connected to a chain that led into the inner workings of the device, with the eventual excess coiled around the exterior.
“What does it do?” Cotton asked, equipping it on her hoof.
“Well, there’s a button on the interior, at the very end. Feel that?”
Cotton wiggled her hoof around for a moment. “Yeah.”
“Press that, and-”
He was cut off by a sudden, metal click, followed by what sounded like a loud burst of decompressing air. The spearhead, still attached to the device with a chain, flew towards the far wall, out of the open window, and into a wooden sign across the street.
For a moment, there was silence. A long metal chain quivered in the air, still connected to the device on Cotton’s hoof. Wide-eyed, she slowly turned to look at Coffee, who in turn, looked back at her. A slow smile formed on his face.
“It does that.”
Cotton looked back at the chain. To an onlooker, it seemed as though she were in shock. Coffee knew better, though. Soon enough, a huge grin took to her face.
“Isn’t that great?” Coffee exclaimed, more declaring it to be than asking for confirmation that it was.
“Okay, that was pretty neat.” She tugged on the chain, and giggled. “Is there a way to retract it?”
Coffee rubbed the back of his head. “Well, not yet. That’s the next step.”
Cotton unequipped the hookshot, but still held it with her hooves. She rotated and elevated the device, giving it a careful examination from every angle. “Hmm. You might try…”
She paused. After a moment, she dropped the hookshot, and wheeled around towards Coffee.
“Hey!” She pointed an accusing hoof towards him.
“What?”
“The meeting! With Celestia! I’m supposed to be there, and you are too!” She turned, threw open the door, and stepped outside. “We have to go, now!”
He followed after her. “Wait, Cotton!”
She stopped, but did not seem to hear him. “Oh, I hope we’re not too late.” She took a step in the direction of the courthouse and cast an anxious look down the street.
“What meeting?” Coffee called to her before she could take off again.
Cotton turned back to him, dancing with agitation. “You know, the meeting! With the zebras, and the griffons, and the doggies, and the donkeys, and Celestia! She’s not very good at meetings. Ponies treat her bad, sometimes.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Cotton. Who treats who bad?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, you know I don’t like going to…”
He trailed off. “Wait. ‘Celestia’. Is that the alicorn?”
“She’s a pony who doesn’t like it when everypony else stares at her and calls her things she’s not, and we should be there for her! I should be there for her!”
“The alicorn.” He snapped his fingers. “Of course! Of course I remember. I did say I wanted to meet her, didn’t I?”
Cotton’s response was quick. “Yes!”
“Okay, let me grab some things. I’ll be right back.”
He ran into his house, and returned only a moment later, grasping an object of metal firmly in his hands. Cotton knew it was his weapon. She frowned.
“Do you really need to bring that?”
Coffee smiled. “Never leave home without it.” He slid it into a holster near his chest, underneath his faded green trench coat, and patted it once it was in. It bounced comfortably against his ribs in reply.
“It is the world’s most powerful handgun.” He bent over, his fingers swiftly working to do up the laces on his boots. Cotton did not have the heart to tell him something he no doubt already knew, that it was likely the world’s only handgun. He finished his laces, stood up, and cracked his knuckles. He nodded toward Cotton, who bolted off. He followed closely.
“Can I ask a favor, this time?” he asked Cotton. She turned her head towards him, but kept running forward.
“Only if you hurry!” she replied.
“When you introduce me to ponies, don’t tell them my name is ‘Coffee’. It’s weird, being named after a drink.”
“But it suits you!” Cotton cried. After he did not respond, she asked, “What would you like me to introduce you to Celestia as, then?”
“You can tell her I am the Hieyuma Empire’s finest combat engineer, the greatest inventor ever, Joe-!”
His words were cut off, as they turned into a surprised shout. He tumbled to the ground, his foot catching on an out-of-place metal chain that just happened to be stretching across the street. He growled in pain as he rolled to his side, and sat up. Cotton in front of him, body still facing forward, head swiveled only halfway back.
“Coffee it is.”
She took off down the street, followed by an irate hieyuman engineer.
**********
“Those revolting creatures you call ‘hounds’ are no more than common thugs!” a diplomat at the donkeys’ table brayed in disgust. “Hmph, diamond dogs indeed.”
“Lies!” one of the hounds barked back, his voice a typical throaty whine. “What proof you have?”
“You’re wearing all the proof I need!” he said, pointing in accusation to the gem-studded robes of the diamond dog. “Our caravans are raided constantly by your filth. You steal the gems, then take the traders as slaves!”
“Lies! All lies!” The hound set his paws onto the table, and stood up. His claws dug into the wood, and he bared his fangs. “We no raid caravans! We hunt own diamonds! Little donkey only bitter we not buy what he sell. Prices too high!”
“Filthy mutt!”
“Stupid ass!”
They continued arguing.
The whole courtroom was in chaos. Celestia was not sure how it started, but there was no indication it would be ending soon. Creatures of every race shouted to make their opinion known in a courtroom where nopony was listening.
The diamond dogs were known slavers. It was a horrible crime of the worst sort of moral violation, but Equestria simply did not have the means to deal with the problem, and so, they turned a blind eye and it went unchecked. Living roughly the same region as the hounds bred an unhealthy hatred in the hearts of the donkeys. Their own warriors were elite, but their numbers were few, and so they retaliated in the best way the merchant race knew how: by selling them necessary goods for outrageous prices. Of course, it only served to escalate the conflict.
The griffons, while powerful, adamant allies, were arrogant, declaring that they did not need the help of the donkeys, hounds, or the zebras, all races that had yet to aid the war effort in a major way. The Royal Council sought to change that, and the griffons’ bold remarks were certainly not helping their case.
Though, it seemed nothing would help in the zebras’ case. The races allied against Discord desperately sought their help. Whoever could convince them to join the cause would not only have enlisted a fresh, unbeaten army, but gained a vast array of alchemic weapons. However, despite their resources and horsepower, they remained frustratingly neutral. No amount of promised riches could change their mind. It seemed they were convinced Equestria and its allies would lose, and instead of helping, they recalled their forces to their far homeland, readying their own nation for the inevitable horde.
The noticeably absent dragons were mysterious and unorganized. They came to what meetings they pleased, and aided in what battles suited them. Their aloofness was frustrating, especially to the battle strategists, who could never count on their aid. The buffalo were unfortunately similar, though they provided even less aid. Their tribal structure led to a civilization that was fractured and unhelpful, often being too busy fighting amongst themselves to offer any real support.
Take all these truths, put them in a courtroom, and Celestia was sure she could guess the result. It was playing out in front of her, after all.
“You think you so rich? You only rich because you lick ponies’ hooves, donkey!”
“Better than licking the desert sand, because without us, that’s all you would have to eat. Isn’t that right, dog?”
Governor Bottom Line tried to intervene, as she had tried many times before. “Please, stop, the both of you. The caravans of the donkeys are welcome indeed, and the strength of the hounds knows no equal.”
“Without the aid of Aquileos,” a griffon diplomat smugly interjected, “you would all be in Discord’s claws already.” He clasped his talons together, as if to prove his point.
“And if it wasn’t for us,” a unicorn at one of the tables yelled, “you’d be extinct!” Celestia recognized the jet black mane and burnt brown coat. It was the representative of the unicorns, Princess Obsidian.
The zebras still had yet to say a word, even in greeting or acknowledgement.
It was stupid, Celestia thought. Their alliance was not even the reason the meeting had been called. The official reason was to coordinate their forces, and report on the affairs of the war. The unofficial reason was to show off Celestia. And yet, neither of those things had been truly addressed.
A vein pulsed in her temple. She wished they would just shut up. A twinge of anger ran through her heart towards whoever had organized this godsforsaken meeting. She leaned over towards Lucky Break to speak to him, and thought better of it, as he sat there, arms folded, looking even more cross than she was. If she was not mistaken, there was a switchblade attached to his right hoof. He was silent, deploying, sheathing, and redeploying the blade in a dangerous, impatient idle action.
She hated that. Could he not just be happy for once? Or, at the very least, approachable? Still, she left him alone, and leaned towards Clover instead.
“Does this usually happen?” Celestia muttered through grit teeth.
Clover had just given up on trying to quell the argument between Princess Obsidian and the griffon representative, and turned to her.
“No,” she said, uncharacteristically irate. “It doesn’t. I don’t know what’s gotten into everypony. Oh, Lord Pick, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” She rose from her seat, hoping to stop a courtroom brawl.
On the other side of her seat sat Adept Reverie. To Celestia’s surprise and concern, she looked somewhat sickly. Her arms were folded tightly, and she rocked back and forth in her seat, still watching the chaos with fascination. She was shivering, and her warm rainbow mane seemed an off-colored pale.
Or, perhaps not pale, Celestia thought. Grey.
“Are you well?” Celestia murmured through the chaos. She flinched in surprise as Reverie barked out a quick, humorless laugh.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Yeah. Some meeting, huh?” Reverie looked at her, and weakly gestured to the proceedings. “Actually, I don’t feel so good…”
She did not say another word, but turned back to her table and held herself, obviously sick, but watching every moment of the chaos, giggling with amusement at some of the proceedings, or else moaning in nausea. Celestia eased away, casting her once last curious glance.
A vein pulsed in her head again as somepony shouted particularly loud. She gingerly rubbed her temples. Celestia hated this place. She wished Cotton was here.
And suddenly, Cotton was there. She trotted through the doorway on the first floor, and stopped, surveying the chaos with surprise on her face. Eventually, she caught Celestia’s eye, and immediately sent her an apologetic look. Celestia gave a small, pained smile and shrugged, simply happy to see her. Cotton beamed back. That simple gesture seemed to banish some of her own frustration, seemed to make everything clearer. It was as if a heady perfume had been blown away, and she took her the first breath of fresh air.
Celestia’s smile broke very suddenly, however, when she saw what was trailing behind her. Lumbering after Cotton, and ducking to get through the doorway, was an unfamiliar creature, tall and thin, absolutely towering over all the ponies it was near. It had a greasy black and brown mane, and almost no fur on its body. It wore a dirty green overcoat, with workings of metal woven seamlessly into the cloth. The strangest thing, however, was the way it moved: it took long, two-legged strides everywhere it went. While a pony could do that, and many times had to do that in order to move and swing a weapon simultaneously, this creature was holding no weapons. It moved along as if it were perfectly natural to do so.
Celestia was about to cry out in warning, but before she could do so, Cotton turned around and talked to it. She seemed to say a few friendly words, and then pointed straight to her. The creature looked at Celestia and locked eyes for a brief moment. It nodded, and then followed Cotton to a seat.
Celestia made no attempt to return its reaction. She shook her head; among all the creatures in the room, this was the strangest, but whatever it was, it was tame. To her surprise, the ponies in the stands did not seem worried. They barely spared it half a glance before returning to their spectating and arguments. She wondered why they did not react to the creature. Perhaps they were too busy with their arguments, or, and Celestia hoped it was this, they simply did not care. It gave her some assurance; perhaps these ponies had seen it before? Were used to it?
She was not given long to contemplate it. Her ears perked, and across the room, amidst a thousand other heated debates, she heard somepony talking about her.
“We have an alicorn! What do you have, Ironclaw?”
It was Princess Obsidian, who was away from her table, staring defiantly at one of the griffons. Of course, it was not too surprising; most of the diplomats had left their seats at this point.
“My iron claws, what else?” He grinned, and brandished his talons. “Want a closer look?”
The princess rolled her eyes, and stuck out her tongue in a very un-princesslike way. “Pfft. Where have your claws ever gotten you? We’re the ones that have a weapon worth boasting about!”
Weapon. Celestia hated that word.
“Oh, you mean the meek little lamb in the corner of the room, there?” Ironclaw glanced at her, and then looked back. “Pathetic.”
“Bah! You’re just afraid. We could destroy you without half a thought.”
“Is that so? Why doesn’t she just come over here, then? I’m curious to see how exactly she’ll do that.”
Celestia immediately saw where it was going. She shrunk low into her seat, and looked away. Regardless, the princess called her out, her voice loud and clear.
“Alicorn! Alicorn, come over here!”
Celestia did not respond. She looked at Lucky, hoping for some sort of aid. He was still looking straight ahead, sliding his hoof-mounted switchblade in and out of his sheath. His expression had impossibly become degrees more irate, until it looked like he was only a step away from taking some very drastic actions.
“Now, alicorn! Prove your worth, why don’t you?”
She looked to her right, and saw the Master-Adept was still gone. Her young student, Adept Reverie, was still sitting there, her head resting against her desk. Her arms still tightly clutched her stomach, and she seemed to be muttering something to herself. And were those tears in her eyes?
“Alicorn!”
Celestia slipped even further, until she was practically underneath her table. No way was she rising to the challenge of a unicorn she did not like, against a griffon that would tear her into pieces.
“Bah! Fine!” Princess Obsidian scoffed.
And even from across the room, she heard the princess’ next words. The phrase pierced through the chaos like an arrow through a fierce wind, swift and true, straight for the bull’s-eye of her ears.
“Useless tool.”
She sat up. Her eyes widened.
…a tool in the clothing of a mare.
…a marionette’s farce.
…a weapon, and naught else.
Hatred.
Celestia immediately rose to her hooves, tipping her wooden chair backwards. She took a bold stride forward, pushing the table out of her way. It slid back, and nearly tipped over. Her hooves pushed and shoved the shoulders of donkeys, griffons, hounds, and even zebras, as she waded through crowd of angry creatures. By now, the floor was in the kind of disarray that usually preceded a bar room brawl. She would have thought it tedious and silly, but by the gods, if she had to participate to get some respect, then she would do it.
She adopted a furious grimace, one she learned from a mentor of hers. She would deal with him later. But now, as she shoved the last pony out of her path, she stopped, and some of the fury left her gaze.
Cotton was already there.
“Hey!” she shouted. Princess Obsidian stood half a head taller than her, and the griffon was nearly twice her height. Nevertheless, her lips curled, her brows furrowed, and her nose wrinkled into the angriest scowl she could muster.
Judging by her proximity to the wall, she had probably jumped down from the stands, and was now practically cornered against it. Nevertheless, she was all the more ferocious for it.
“You big meanie! She has a name, you know! It’s Celestia!”
The unicorn princess did not look pleased. Cotton continued anyways.
“Celestia! C-E-L-S-T… no, I missed a letter. Well, you should call her by her name! And you should ask her if she wants to show this big ugly griffon who’s boss, not tell her to! No offense, mister griffon, sir-”
She was cut off by a sudden, vicious blast of volume.
“LEARN YOUR PLACE, YOU IGNORANT FOAL!”
Princess Obsidian had jumped close and used the Royal Canterlot Voice, shouting inches away from Cotton’s face. She had not expected it, was not braced for it at all. The quasi-magical blast of both volume and force caught her unawares, and her neck whipped back. Cotton gave a sudden, high pitched yelp, and the back of her head collided with the stone wall behind her, hard.
Cotton’s eyes met Celestia’s. She gave a weak, apologetic smile, before letting her eyes roll back in her head, and falling forward to the marble floor.
The chaos of the meeting continued unhindered, but for Celestia, time stood momentarily still. She simply looked at her friend, lying motionless on the ground.
Hatred.
What came next was instinctive.
“WHY DON’T YOU LEARN YOUR PLACE, YOU ROTTEN, NO GOOD, SORRY EXCUSE FOR A PRINCESS!!”
The princess wheeled around, squinting into the sudden blast of noise and air. Celestia did not hesitate. She rushed towards the unicorn, and swung a backhanded hoof at her. Surprisingly, she blocked it, knocking it off course with a burst of magical energy, but Celestia’s momentum did not stop. She redirected herself, and came from below, rising and catching her by the neck. Carrying the attack through, she grappled with the princess and pinned her to the wall, holding her forearm against her throat. Her diamond studded tiara fell free from her head, and clattered to the ground. Celestia realized she was much stronger than her opponent, who struggled frantically against her grip, but could not break free.
“Let go of me you, you…!”
Princess Obsidian gagged, unable to finish her sentence as Celestia pressed against her throat even harder. Her hooves were lifted off the floor, and her motions became weaker and weaker. She tried to use magic, but her horn only weakly flickered before going out and remaining dormant.
Celestia could feel her blood getting hotter, her skin crawling with aggression. Her teeth were savagely bared. Her pupils were dilated, shining through with an angry inferno. Princess Obsidian’s eyes flicked to and fro, panicked and desperate. Eventually, they rested on Celestia’s. They were full of the worst kind of fear.
That was not good enough.
Little by little, the life bled out of them, until the spark was completely gone. Her struggling arms became limp against Celestia’s. She finally released her hold, and the princess’ body slid lifelessly to the floor.
Celestia stood there, panting. Her gaze swiveled back and forth between the princess and Cotton. She knew she should have done something, checked on the welfare of her friend, perhaps, but her hooves were rooted to the floor. Her head swam. Nothing seemed real. She was so hot.
She turned around, and realized that the whole courtroom had become silent. Everybody was looking directly at her. Lucky stood a few feet away, switchblade drawn and the broken spear of a Royal Guard in his mouth, but to her surprise, he was not facing her. Rather, he was facing away from her, towards a group of Royal Guards and griffon Hunters that formed a semi-circle around her. Their weapons were drawn and pointed in her, or rather, his direction. Their intent was not friendly. Some of their number lay on the ground behind them, stirring in pain.
Had Lucky defended her?
She opened her mouth to say something to him, but was cut off. Everybody’s attention moved from her to the opposite side of the room, where they heard a subdued, yet somehow loud chuckle.
“Heheheheh… ahh, that’s funny…”
It was coming from the Royal Magi’s table. Clover was still absent, but Adept Reverie still sat there, head against the desk. Her shoulders shook as she laughed.
“Heheheheh. You ponies. And griffons, and zebras, and donkeys, and hounds, and hieyumans. Or, rather, hieyu-mannn.”
Her voice had changed, somehow. It was like claws on a chalkboard, not outright painful, but having a quality of such horridness as to make most of the creatures in the room cringe. Reverie slowly raised her head from the desk. The semi-circle of soldiers around Celestia parted, and she took a step towards her. Across the room, she saw Clover do the same.
“Reverie…?” Celestia hesitantly called. Her quiet voice could be heard throughout the whole room.
The adept chuckled, and shook her head. Her eyes flashed a bright red.
“Well done, Celestia.”
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Reeaaalllyyyy?
I have a wedding I'm about to leave to, and you -update-?
Blaaghghg. Curse you!
Woah jeez.
And that bitch totally deserved it. You can only yell what are meant to be racial slurs at someone for so long until they snap and beat the shit out of you. Especially if you use Unrelenting Force on their friend's face.
Wait... Why did Celestia feel the need to kill Princess Obsidian? She did kill her, didn't she? Ok, so, Obsidian may have blasted Cotton against a wall, but I don't think Cotton was killed. At the worst, she's probably unconsious. And yet, Celestia responds by strangling Obsidian untill she dies. I think that's a little extreme, don't you? Seriously, what the fuck.
1279716
I don't think she died... You can choke someone until they pass out. Any longer will kill them.
1279746
I'm pretty damn sure she died.
1279776
...Well, shit. "It didn't go well" is an understatement, Celestia.
1279786 Shhh, quiet. If she hears you, she'll strangle you too!
1279811
Makes me wonder how Celestia redeems herself. She just murdered a leader of Ponykind. Man, her early life sucks.
1279822 She just strangles the fuck out of anyone who gets in her way.
But yea, I think she's going to be full of guilt and remorse in the next chapter. If she hasn't been imprisoned for regicide.
1279683
Ohhh, sorry man. At least you'll have something to look forward to for later?
1279698
Note to self: make reference to the Royal Voice as a technique originally taught by the dragons. Celestia earns her scaly friends' allegiance and respect by SHOUTING.
Also, hey everybody! I know not everyone watches me because why would they, I hardly post any new stories, but for the love of all that is holy, read this. It has artwork, I tell you! Honest to goodness, quality artwork! Of my own story, no less!
1279930
Celestia as dovahkiin? You are the fucking greatest.
Also, although I'm sure it'll be revealed next chapter... Did Celestia actually just up and waste that bitch?
I knew it was Discord in the previous chapter, this just confirmed my suspicions...
1280214
Semi-related.
And I don't know... I guess we'll find out, huh?
(Lawdie, sorry 'bout that, I'm as bad as Celestia. Worry not, though, it will indeed be in the next chapter. As you can imagine, Twilight wants to know if her mentor just murdered somepony.)
Adept Reverie is Discord if thats true then the real Adept Reverie is dead or being held capdive.
1281008
Really? Why is that?
I think Reverie was 'discorded' and might be sort of controlled at the moment..judging from the comment that was made about her colors seeming off.
On a side note, it was worth the wait, Moose.
Holy cow,man!
1279716 Keep in mind that Celestia is still only... how old? A few months at max and she has all that power... it would be easy to over step and kill someone... especially when Celestia's emotions are in such flux... plus the emotions of that court room where so high and heated that she was already beyond agitated and pissed BEFORE her friend was smacked about, and oh god the emotions of other people (especially a lot of them) can have SUUUCH and affect on you, even if you're not aware of it at the time... and one last note is that I'm pretty sure Celestia hates being called/thought of as simply a tool or weapon to be used for war. It's the build up and then the environment that pushes her over the edge.
Those are at least my thoughts on how/why Celestia's actions make sense.
But these are just my thoughts after all.
Sooooo 1st of all FREAKING EXCITED THAT THERE'S AN UPDATE... lets see... during the meeting I was kinda glad that Celestia was smacking the Princesse about... but... when she killed her...
I was surprised and caught off guard. Particularly when she turned around and saw that Lucky had covered her back. Kinda excited to see humans in this story (in a way besides AND YOU HUMANS ARE DROPPED HERE!) and kinda glad that you do have at least one in the city... after all destroying an entire people is hard to do. Of course if anyone could do it Discord could... but even so it's more likely that he'd bring human numbers down to a few thousand and then humanity simply dies over time.
Anyways... well done, very well done!
VERY much looking forward to reading MOAR from you! 
...but of course I need to do my own writing... and then... I SHOULD probably read stuff for school too? ...riiight?
I am sooo rambling! xD
AU?
Cotton’s horn glowed as she raised it out of his grasp to get a better look, her spiral magic making it rotate slowly in the air. He gave it a surprised look, grabbed it away from the telekinesis, and returned to Cotton.
“Okay, look at this. I call it the ‘hookshot’.” He thrust it towards Cotton, who shied away from it.
You should have had accompanying music playing. your legend of Zelda references do not escape me
Well, that's something she'll have to work hard to make up for. If Obsidian did die... Here's hoping Celestia will have to face the family of the mare she killed. That'll be painful, but no less than she deserves.
Not to mention that, if things are as they seem, Lucky should be relieved of command. ASAP.
1281751
Stands for "after unification". The coming together of the three pony tribes marks a meridian in time, and is how Equestria measures years. I've implied it before, but I'm not sure if I've ever explained that outright...
Huh. A quick scan for the word "unification" through my the story reveals that no, I haven't clearly explained that. Oops.
I suppose I'll have to make a point of it. Thanks for bringing it to my attention!
1281880
YES. Thank you. I'm so glad somebody got that! As a side note, the "director's cut" edition in gdocs (read: the one where I write silly things I have no intention of including) briefly had a radio in the corner of the room, playing that chime when he retrieved the hookshot.
1282083
Your welcome.
Discord is in the room, of course. He's hiding either disguised as or inside of Reverie, (perhaps possession?) but he's the one pulling the strings. Clover seems to have managed to resist his influence, mostly, but almost everyone else seems to have gone crazy... but of course, Discord can't resist gloating a bit... it is 'chaos' in the room, after all.
So Celestia just plowed a path through several pieces of furniture, angry warriors, and world leaders with hardly a thought just to bitchslap the princess of her own country and then choke her out?
1281677 It still doesn't excuse that sort of behaviour though. You can't just go around strangling people, even if you are mentaly immature.
1284158 Pretty much, yea.
1284158 1284860
It's funny 'cause it's true.
1284856 Not saying that it does excuse her actions. Just that her actions make sense to her character and situation.
1285315 Indeed they do, although it still seems a little extreeme to me... I think Discord may have had a part to play in this, somehow.
1285555 Very likely, very likely.
I thought it would have been obvious to everypony.
Whenever Celestia thinks the word "Hatred", she more or less loses control. Think Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde. She can't really be blamed for what she does when she enters that "Hatred" mode.
1288935
Shut yo mouth, Twilight, I ain't finished with mah story! Is Celestia gonna have to slap a filly?!
Poor Lucky... He thinks he has found something he's lost forever... or rather, some pony. He can't stand to lose daylight again, she meant more to him than Celestia even knows, even if it means protecting her with a switchblade and a broke spear while she [strike]murders[/strike] incapacitates a princess of Equestria over a condescending series of remarks... in front of the majority of Canterlot's citizens and the Equestrian government...and the collective and pissed off "diplomats" of Equestria's "allied" forces. That's not just love; that's obsession and damn near worship.
I'm fairly certain Princess Obsidian isn't dead. It takes a fair amount of work to still kill someone after choking them out. She's probably just out cold, though with Discord, or an agent thereof about to make his entrance... maybe not the best time to be laying on the floor drooling.
In chapter 17 you say "calibers of metal" - caliber refers to the diameter of a cylinder of metal. This is not consistent with the rest of the description.
1753980
You're right, "caliber" does refer to the diameter of metallic cylinders, often referring to bullet size. What I mean to say here, though, is a word being a synonym of kind, quality, or type; meaning that there are many different qualities of metals. Other examples might be: "He was a swordsman of high caliber" or "I admire the high moral caliber of that priest."
That said, I'm not 100% sure about if the word works with inanimate objects. I'll have to do some double-checking. In any case, thanks for pointing it out! And definitely feel free to point out other errors as you see them in later chapters.
Hey urbanmoose, it's bropony again! I must say another wonderfully executed chapter, you never cease to amaze!! The whole "hiyuman" bit threw me for a loop at first, I thought Coffee was a pony!
The hookshot part made laugh and the twirly thing Cotton did made it that much better!
Keep up the amazing work!!!
I want to trust that Clover knows to keep an eye out for spies, and that if Reverie were under any mind-affecting spells or were not even Reverie at all, Clover would know (and that any Adept would die before being recruited to Discord's side by mundane means). I really do. But the way she can't remember how she escaped . . . I hope Clover's keeping a close watch on her.
Well. Until we got to his house, I never would have guessed that Joseph Baker was going by Coffee now. Though I suppose coffee does seem to be a hieyuman invention . . .
I'm disappointed in you, Tia. If you're ever going to take down Discord, you're going to need to keep better control of yourself.
And as for you, Clover, I had better find that you were expecting something like this, and are currently busy doing something clever about it that requires you to be away from your seat.
1286137 DUH!
I still think of Miss Piggy every time they say this.
Hey Joe, glad your spirits are up, what with it appearing that your the last of the humans.
I wonder if Joe knows what Shimmer had to trade for his life. I also wonder why Discord didn't do this ages ago, surely there have been other large gatherings of ponies in previous meetings. Either the ability to effect so many ponies at once is new, it's being done specifically for Celestia, or it will only work once and he's distracting everyone so that something else important can go off without any hitches.
Did Celestia just kill the princess?