Seeing to the release of Dusk and Rightly had proven to be a simple matter of meeting with Sunbeam, Commander Celestia, Grandmaster Quest, and Captain Greenwall. Celestia herself had been eager to support my plans to end the war, and while the others had varying degrees of uncertainty, in the end I won their support. Howe’er, the next meeting of the grand war council promised to be most ... interesting.
As I trotted into the council chambers, ‘twas hard not to notice the changes the war had wrought. As before, ponies sat around the circular tables in distinct groups, representing the various factions within the council itself. Howe’er, the mages now sat adjacent to mine own clan, with Sunbeam herself situated not in the midst of her own followers but on the border of my clan’s section. Given the empty seat adjacent to her, ‘twas plain she intended for me to join her so that we might consult in secret and sway the council to whate’er course we thought best. Truly, war drives us all in strange directions.
The Order occupied fewer seats than they had in the past, likely on account of the losses in the western tunnels. The Grandmaster’s eyes naturally lingered on his daughter, who seemed quite out of sorts sitting amongst my clanmates. Though that was the proper place for her as my squire, I knew full well that her heart belonged to the Order of Sol Invictus. Though if training a young warrior would help strengthen the bonds of alliance within our own ranks, then that was a small price to pay.
Canterlot’s nobility had also turned out in larger numbers than they had for previous councils. More than enough to fill the gaps caused by the absences amongst the Order. They had seemed dormant in the war councils e’er since Polaris’ capture, for ‘twas no secret that Sunbeam cared little for them. Given her earlier warnings about rising discontent amongst them, I suspected that their presence boded ill.
I settled into my seat next to the Archmagus, hardly e’en surprised as I felt a privacy spell ripple o’er the both of us. “What news, Sunbeam? How has news of Rightly’s release been received?”
The frown that settled onto her lips answered my question e’en before she spoke. “Mixed, at best. You gave the Rebels one of their best leaders back for nothing measureable in return, and Bright’s son to boot.” She favored me with a smile devoid of warmth. “Oh, there was talk of honor and obligation, but there are many who do not find value in such things. There was certainly a time when I would have preferred a single coin in my hoof to the honor-bound promise to deliver ten coins in the future.”
I felt one of mine eyebrows rise at her choice of words. “There was a time when you felt so? What has changed thy view?”
Sunbeam chuckled softly, shaking her head so that her mane cascaded o’er her shoulders. “I still firmly believe that all this talk of honor is madness. If I were Rightly or Dusk, I would have taken your offer and returned to the rebel camp while blessing my fortune at having such foolish adversaries.” She smiled wolfishly, a mischievous gleam entering her eyes. “But then, if I were thy prisoner, I rather doubt that thou wouldst offer me such generous terms dependant only upon my word. By the same token, Rightly and Dusk are not me; if honor is indeed a form of madness, then ‘tis one that the two of them are most sorely afflicted with, and one we would be fools not to take advantage of. If there are any rebels we can trust to hold to their word e’en when ‘twould be in their interests to break it...”
She shrugged and settled back into her chair. “I suppose we shall see soon enough. In truth, it costs us little to make the attempt. Rightly has accomplished little for us as a prisoner, and e’en if he does not honor his word regarding Gale and peace, he will still try to oust Swift Blade. Causing such dissent within the enemy ranks is reason enough to release him.” A faint smirk flickered across her lips. “Though I would have pressed him for harder terms than thou didst. Though a part of such negotiations would have been to walk away and let him stew for days at a time. Such tactics can prove most effective against prisoners.” She sighed and shook her head. “Alas, we might not be able to afford such delays. At the moment time is as precious a resource as Rightly himself.”
“I wished to reach an agreement as quickly as possible,” I conceded. “And Rightly could see as much when I spoke with him. Though I threatened him with abandoning the talks, I do not know if I truly could have done so.” I sighed, slumping into my seat. “Lyequinegus wrote that we should believe in our hearts that any comrade captured by the enemy is already dead, so that we would not be moved by any threats made ‘gainst them. Though I normally aspire to follow Lyequinegus’ axioms, I confess that one has eluded me.”
“I suspect thou art far from the only one,” Sunbeam answered, a distant look in her eyes. “One’s children always hold a special place in one’s heart. Consider Bright’s own fall from grace: I cannot imagine she would have sold herself to the Nightmare were she not half-mad from grief at the deaths of Lance and Thunder. No doubt the Nightmare seduced her by promising her a chance to avenge herself upon us.”
“Quite likely.” I grimaced, mine eyes falling to the table as I thought upon my daughter’s peril. If ‘twere Gale who had been slain in battle, would I have done any differently than Bright? Much as I would like to believe that I would ne’er cast aside mine honor, I could not say with any certainty that ‘twould be so. If the Avatar struck down my child, would I not feel the need to avenge her, e’en if it required acts that would previously have been unthinkable? Would I not feel the same burning need to destroy all responsible for Gale’s death? It is an easy thing to declare the importance of morals and honor from a distance. Far harder to hold to them in the heat of the moment, with the blood of your own children on your hooves.
Sunbeam cleared her throat, pulling me out of my ruminations. “Regardless, we have had some trouble o’er the matter of Rightly’s release. Many of the nobles are less than pleased with the news, especially when none of them save Grandmaster Quest were consulted on the matter. Alas, ‘twould seem that mine efforts to mollify them were for naught. Rightly’s release made it quite plain that I was only making symbolic gestures while retaining any real power for myself. And thyself, of course.”
I grimaced at the less than welcome news. We had troubles enough without adding internal dissent to them. “How restive are they?”
“I suspect we will know the answer to that question quite well by the end of this council.” She sighed and shook her head. “I will remind thee, thou art not the only one whose family has been captured by the enemy—family at risk of being sacrificed in foul rituals, or being used as hostages to force our surrender.”
“We took the best course of action we saw available,” I reassured her. “Now we must trust Rightly and Dusk’s honor to see this through. I imagine how the nobles take the news will depend a great deal on whether we have peace or war. For the moment, the matter is out of our hooves; Rightly will either offer reasonable terms to end the war, or he will not.”
She scoffed. “I suppose that is so, aye. In any case, it is not as though we could walk up to the Rebel camp and beseech them to return the two of them. We will just have to see how things proceed and adjust our plans. For the moment, I will have to come up with some new way to keep the nobles from kicking up too much of a fuss o’er the fact that I will systematically undermine their base of power.” She scowled across the room, though presumably her privacy spell hid it from her target. “It may prove difficult to manage without offering them something of actual worth. Maintaining friendship with thee is proving to be far more vexing than I expected.”
I gave her complaints all the consideration they deserved: none. “As I recall, thou hadst made an enemy of Canterlot’s nobles long before I entered the city.”
“Yes, yes,” she groused, impatiently waving a hoof. “Forgive me for my foul humours, but I grow tired of waiting for the meeting to begin. In truth, I would prefer to do something more industrious, such as review my fellow magi, or watch o’er the repairs to the walls, or e’en take a simple nap.”
“I think I would also prefer any of those to the bleating of pampered fools,” I confessed. “But alas, it seems we must hear them in council. Let us see to it, then. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can be done with this.”
I nodded to Sunbeam and, on a whim, touched my hoof to the energies holding together her privacy spell, instantly absorbing them. Sunbeam glared at me for ending her spell, but it seemed a superficial matter given the lack of further complaint. I had certainly piqued her pride far worse in the past. The end of her privacy spell drew much attention to us, and I did not waste the opportunity. “If all are present and prepared, shall we begin the council?”
The Commander spoke from her throne in the center of the room. “Yes, we are sure that everypony wishes to address the issues of the day. Given that, I believe we can dispense with the usual formalities and move straight to business: Lady Protector Shadow, tell us how the war progresses.”
I wasted no time in my reply. “We have held the walls against an enemy assault, driving back the Avatar, the Archwarlock, and the traitor Ephor Swift Blade. Though the battle was costly, we have won the day. Our engineers are already hard at work restoring our fortifications and expect to be done before the day is out. Though we have taken losses they made the rebels pay heavily, and the enemy has lost many of their best soldiers. Our initial reports indicate that the elite hetairoi was all but destroyed as a coherent unit.”
“They are not the only ones to have suffered,” one of the nobles called out. “Too many of our best knights died or were crippled in the tunnels.”
“All who fight in Her Majesty’s name have made sacrifices,” Sunbeam immediately countered. “That is the nature of war. Nobles have died. Mages have died. Pegasi and earth ponies have died. And unlike the nobles, our allies have no obligation to defend Canterlot ‘gainst the rebels. We fight to defend our homes because the enemy leaves us no other choice. Shadow and her clan defend us with their blood e’en though they could easily abandon the war without losing anything beyond a little pride, and the same for Greenwall and his earth ponies.”
Greenwall grunted and nodded. “Plenty of death for everyone.”
“Far too many families have buried a loved one,” I agreed. “Many of mine own clanmates are in mourning, and e’en I have lost close kin to this war. We honor the sacrifices made by the Order and Canterlot’s knights, for without them the war might well have been lost in the tunnels.”
“And how will the Order be rewarded for its sacrifice?” the same noble demanded.
Grandmaster Quest rose from his seat, smiting the o’erdressed fool with a furious glare. “We do not fight to be rewarded, Pure Line. I did not rush to Her Majesty’s side asking how she would compensate me for my son’s life. It is our duty to support the Queen and protect Canterlot, and that is precisely what we shall do. I will note that you have gone to great pains to keep your own son as far from the battlefield as possible.”
Commander Celestia interceded ere the war of words could escalate further. “The knights of the Order of Sol Invictus fought because they believed in a noble cause—because they wished to defend their city and the ones they loved.” There was a moment’s hesitation, and she softly added, “And for their queen. Though I am honored that they gave their lives for me, I would have much preferred that they all lived for me instead.”
“As would we all,” I agreed. “Many have fallen, and more still shall fall ere this war is ended. For now, while we have bled and suffered we held the walls and saw off the enemy. If they come again, they shall meet the same fate.”
“And the enemy’s losses will be felt as keenly as ours,” Sunbeam continued. “How many times can they throw themselves against our walls to no effect ere their spirits are crushed? When they bury their dead, they will have to think upon how those deaths gained them nothing. The only result was superficial damage to our walls, which our engineers have already begun repairing. No army can suffer such reversals without loss of morale. And surely their spirits will be crushed all the more by the results of our duels with the enemy leaders.” She smirked, pointedly looking at myself and Greenwall to remind everypony just who the duelists had been. “A pointless death is all the keener when done at the commands of a coward who fled his duel after the first blow.”
“Let us be fair,” Greenwall rumbled, a faint grin flicking across his lips. “He tried to hit me twice before he fled with his tail tucked ‘tween his legs. Though admittedly I was only able to strike him once. Mayhaps we should split the difference and say he fled after one and a half blows?”
“So noted,” I murmured with a smile of mine own. “It would not do to attribute more cowardice to Swift Blade than he deserves.”
Pure Line intruded upon us once more. “If their current leaders are so woefully inadequate, why is it that you have released so many of their officials? Surely we would be better served by leaving Swift in command of the enemy? For that matter, why have we not used the fact that we held Rightly to force his clan from the war?”
Sunbeam scoffed at the suggestion. “Because that is not how the clans think. Surely you are not so ignorant of our enemies that you do not know the very basic precepts of Lyequinegus? Ephors and commanders are not like queens; capturing one does not automatically win a war, and with a queen’s ransom to boot. Neigh, at the end of the day, they are all expendable to their nation. Rightly was only good as a bargaining chip, and that is precisely how we have used him.”
A part of me could not help but wonder how familiar Sunbeam herself had been with Lyequine precepts on prisoners prior to our discussion of the matter. Regardless, I moved to reaffirm her argument. “Rightly would not order his clan to surrender simply to save his own life, nor would his clan accept such orders from a captured leader. So far as his clan was concerned, he was as good as dead once we took him, and would remain so unless they could somehow free him.”
“Using him to bludgeon his clan into submission never would have succeeded,” Sunbeam continued. “Likewise, the failure of our first attempt to trade him for our own captives only occurred due to due to treachery on the enemy’s part. Fortunately, Shadow and I were able to discover and exploit circumstances which allowed us to gain the maximum possible advantage from his freedom. If releasing him causes chaos within the enemy camp, that can only be to our advantage.”
“We have focused purely on military matters for too long,” I agreed. “Wars are not won merely by troop deployments or cunning tactics. We must strike at the heart of the enemy and make them doubt their own cause. A faithless soldier is far weaker than one whose heart is full of conviction. Let us show them the honor of our forces and the dishonor of their leaders; once their hearts break, the armies will swiftly follow.”
“And the sooner they are no longer willing to fight, the sooner this war can finally end,” Commander Celestia declared from her throne. “I fully support Shadow in her efforts to restore decency and put an end to this war. Rightly is a good and honorable pony, one who will not readily stand for the evils that Pegasopolis has caused under the leadership of Swift Blade and the Avatar—and one who would be willing to offer us peace with honor, and help create a new, moral Equestria.”
Pure scoffed, glancing incredulously at the Commander. “Honor? Morals? Let us not place him upon a pedestal. Has everypony forgotten that Rightly Doo’s honor and morals were what drove him to rebel against the crown in the first place? He broke his oaths of loyalty to Her Majesty once already. Why should we believe he will honor any promises he made now? I am sure he would offer any empty words we asked of him, so long as he gained his freedom in the end. The rebels know nothing of decency, and this war will only end when we have cut them all down.”
The Commander’s eyes narrowed, and she drew herself up to her full height. When she spoke, there was an iron authority to her voice that I had heard far too seldom since the war began. “They are ponies who consider their cause worthy, mistaken though they may be. If there is a way to end this war honorably without more ponies such as your own kin giving their lives, then I intend to pursue it.”
I added mine own words to the Commander’s. “If I could end this war by holding Rightly in our dungeons, I would. If I could end it by freeing him, I would. At the moment, we believe that the latter course may indeed be successful.”
Sunbeam was quick to follow up on mine argument. “E’en if the effort fails and Rightly continues the war, the troubles it is likely to cause among the enemy ranks will be worthwhile. Rightly did us no good in our dungeons, but releasing him will surely cause divisions amongst the enemy ranks. Every time the rebels fight amongst themselves, we are the ones who emerge victorious.”
“And the poorer the rebel cause looks, the more their soldiers will be tempted to desert or e’en defect,” I continued, seeing the perfect chance to introduce one of the policies we had discussed earlier. “Pursuant to such a goal, we have decided to begin assembling a new Ephorate, drawn from the current loyal pegasi.” Or to be more accurate, those who were loyal and those we hoped to turn. If I could somehow persuade Dawn to take a seat in the new Ephorate, it would be quite a coup.
“We believe that doing so would help enhance the legitimacy of our government in the eyes of the pegasi,” Sunbeam agreed. “Already we have ponies deserting their cause and joining with us. With a proper ephorate on our side we can encourage this trend—one that will only be aided by Pegasopolis’ failure to capture our walls, the defeat of their leaders, and the internal chaos within their camp.”
“And who would the members of this new ephorate be?” Pure demanded truculently. “Obviously Shadow will lead it, correct? And the two of you will no doubt hoof-pick the new ephors?” His eyes narrowed as he glowered at Sunbeam. “Just as you forced through your choices for the new archmagi, or reassigned many offices and honors without any respect for the usual lines of precedence and honor.”
Sunbeam scoffed, dismissing his claims with a cavalier wave of her hoof. “Those were all necessary measures in a time of crisis. There was not time for a proper conclave to pick four new archmagi, not e’en discounting the fact the magi order was in utter disarray. By the same token, some of the traditional titles had to go to those capable of performing their duties in a time of war. It’s all well and good to say that head of House Goldarbor has traditionally been one of the Queen’s Lords Marshall, but the current head of the household is four years old. We need ponies capable of exercising their offices if we are to save Equestria from its enemies, and in any case, all my choices were approved by Her Majesty.”
The Commander shot Pure a pointed look. “Shadow is the most qualified to help select any new ephors. She would know her fellow pegasi best, and by tradition new members of the Ephorate have always been nominated by those currently sitting upon the council. As Shadow is currently the only loyal member of the Ephorate, it falls to her to assemble a new one.”
“So that is to be the way of it, then?” Pure demanded, looking back to his fellow nobles for support. “Once more, the necessities of war are used to allow Sunbeam and Shadow to consolidate their power? Titles reassigned to her favorites, the archmagi stacked with those who support her views, and now Shadow will hoof-pick puppets for her new Ephorate as well? Where will it end? Shall we start building two new thrones for them as well?”
Sunbeam rolled her eyes, her tone taking on a mixture of patience and condescension that made it seem as though she were speaking to a particularly slow-witted child. “The temporary wartime measures we have implemented are just that: temporary and wartime. Once the war is over, we can go back to the normal order of things.”
“I have your word on that?” the stubborn noble asked. “Here, and now, witnessed by all present in the council? I have your solemn promise that all of your supposedly temporary wartime measures will be put aside when the rebels fall?”
Sunbeam smiled and nodded, the very picture of magnanimity. “Once the crisis is over, the temporary measures will be put aside.”
I was instantly suspicious. It was not like Sunbeam to give up any measure of power without a fight. Judging by Pure’s troubled frown, he had the same opinion. “We will regain all our privileges? Our titles? Our retinues? Our incomes? All will be as it was before the war?”
“That is what I promised, yes,” Sunbeam reassured him. “The emergency measures exist only to serve the war effort. Once there is no more war, there will be no more need for such measures.”
Pure scowled at her, and I was all but certain he was trying to puzzle out what hidden treachery Sunbeam had planned for him. I confess, I was rather curious about that myself. “And you will not try to claim that the crisis is still ongoing once the war is over? Or ask Her Majesty to overrule you, thus freeing you from your promises?”
“As I said, I will keep my word,” Sunbeam answered coolly. “I know I have had my share of differences with the nobility in the past, but now is not the time for internal squabbles. We must stand united against the rebels. If that means restoring your old rights, then so be it.” A predatory grin crossed her lips. “Rest assured, I fully intend to remove them once the war is o’er if at all I can. But for now I need your loyalty, so your rights are secure. Court politics can wait until after we have saved Her Majesty’s throne.”
Many of the nobles seemed mollified by Sunbeam’s words, but Pure glowered at her. “Somehow I do not believe ‘twill be that easy.”
“When is life ever easy, Pure?” Sunbeam asked rhetorically. “We are at war, and war makes for hard times and hard answers. We have all sacrificed much in the name of victory. One mare’s ambitions are a small thing compared to Grandmaster Quest losing a son.”
While the Grandmaster nodded glumly, Pure still remained unsatisfied. “I find it curious how all your hard answers require you gaining more power at the expense of the rest of us. Promises are well and good, but I desire something more ... immediate. Several major decisions regarding the conduct of the war have been made without any consultation with the nobility—most recently, Rightly’s release. In the future, we feel we should be consulted on such decisions ere they are made.”
“Because the nobility has distinguished itself when left to conduct the war?” Sunbeam snapped, her patience fraying. “Tell me, what victories did we win when ‘twas Duke Polaris who was vizier and commanded the army? Whatever happened to him and his bold plan to attack the enemy? How well did his stratagems serve us?”
Though I knew I needed to support Sunbeam ere she said something unfortunate, I was wary of fanning the flames. I rose from my seat, planting my forehooves on the desk. “We cannot consult with every member of the nobility before making any choice that might affect the war effort. Battlefields shift quickly and are inherently chaotic. Often, there is simply not time to consult and build consensus; in war action must be taken quickly, or the opportunity to act at all will be lost.” I paused in thought for a moment, then added, “There are also times when secrecy is needed in war. ‘Tis well known that secrets are most secure when the fewest possible ponies are aware of them.”
Pure’s eyes widened and his teeth clenched. “Are you implying that if nobles were included in more wartime functions we would betray Her Majesty and pass information to the enemy? How dare you! I have half a mind to—”
“ENOUGH!” the Commander interrupted, her voice rattling the windows and making dust fall from the ceiling. Though her next words were softer, they were no less forceful. “Our good ponies, that is quite enough. This is a war council, and I will have respect ‘tween thee while in my presence. Is that understood?”
“Of course, Commander,” I dutifully responded.
“Aye, of course,” Sunbeam wasted no time in agreeing. “There is no sense in having a pointless duel over a few heated words.” She shot a rather pointed look at Pure and his companions. “We do not wish for a duel, correct? Or if we do, could we at least wait until the meeting is finished, and Her Majesty has returned to her chambers. It does so offend her when I burn mine enemies to a crisp or tear their bodies asunder, as I have done in many of my previous duels.”
Many of the nobles traded nervous glances, and none seemed to be in any hurry to challenge her. Unsurprisingly, they nodded their assent rather than risk the wrath of both Sunbeam and Celestia.
Having taken control of the meeting Commander Celestia seemed in no hurry to return it to Sunbeam and Pure Line. “My war council, with the release of Rightly I believe that we should send a messenger to the rebel camp, informing them of what terms we would consider acceptable. Does anypony object to this?”
“I think ‘twould be wise,” I said. “Rightly is honor-bound to treat with us, and I see no reason not to make that fact known to the rebels. ‘Twill increase pressure upon him to make peace or be seen as an oathbreaker. After our most recent victory we can negotiate from a position of relative strength.”
“Though regardless of what Rightly is obligated to do, I do not think the Avatar will wish to negotiate with us,” Sunbeam murmured. “Her reasons for continuing the war are far more ... personal than his.”
The Commander flinched at the mention of her sister, though she recovered after a moment and ‘twas so barely perceptible that I only noticed it because I had come to know her so very well. “If need be, I would be willing to discuss matters directly with my sister. If I can catch her during one of her more lucid moments ... reason might win the day. I am willing to make the effort, if naught else.”
Her eyes locked upon mine, and I heard her voice within my mind. “Shadow, I thank thee for facing my sister in battle, but ‘twas not fair of me to ask such a thing. I asked thee to fight in my place because I feared I would not be able to face her myself, yet it troubles me deeply that thou couldst have died whilst facing. While I often disagree with Sunbeam, she was correct in one matter: ‘twas cowardly of me to ask thee to fight in my stead. I will not make that mistake again. I beg thy forgiveness.”
I wished to answer her, but did not know how without speaking aloud, which would violate the privacy she sought with her spell. I knew that sometimes such magics enabled thoughts to pass both ways, so I focused my will upon the Commander and directed my thoughts towards her mind. “There is nothing to forgive, Commander. I fight your battles willingly.”
Commander Celestia blinked, staring at me for several seconds before slowly nodding. As our private communication ended, I realized that Sunbeam had been speaking to the council in the meantime. “... has been said of honorable nature of Rightly Doo and Dusk Charger is both her son and supposedly cut from much the same cloth. If there are two ponies in the rebel camp who can appeal to the Avatar’s better nature...”
“That is my hope,” the Commander agreed. “And if Rightly and the Avatar do not wish to meet us for terms...” Her eyes narrowed, and I saw within them the sort of iron determination I had dreamed of since the war began. Gone was the mare lost in melancholy; in her place sat a warleader. “Then let them reap what they have sown. I am tired of this war, of my ponies killing one another. It will come to an end.”
I looked to Sunbeam, a hopeful smile on my lips. At first Sunbeam was more reserved than I, studying the Commander closely. Howe’er, it seemed that whate’er she saw met with her approval, for I had ne’er seen her happier than she was at the moment. The delighted grin she wore added a comely aspect to her that I had ne’er before seen. When she spoke to her queen, her tone seemed similarly pleased. “Shall we make sure your arms and armor are ready for you, Your Majesty?”
The Commander hesitated, and for a moment I feared that Sunbeam might have pressed too far and too soon. Howe’er, after a moment the Commander seemed to gather herself, nodding to her archmagus. “That would be for the best. If I am to speak with my sister, ’twould only be fitting that I meet with her on equal terms.”
“As is only proper,” Sunbeam agreed. “Now then, as to the terms themselves, I would suggest that we...”
A gentle touch upon my shoulder drew mine attention away from Sunbeam. White Knight nervously withdrew her hoof, the way her eyes immediately fell to the table making it clear she feared she had o’erstepped her bounds by touching me. “Your pardon, milady, but there is news. I felt you would wish to be informed at once.”
“Proceed.” I doubted my new squire would have drawn mine attention from a meeting of the war council unless ‘twas worthy of my time.
She cleared her throat ere she answered. “Your daughter has just arrived at the Southern Gate.”
I noted both Sunbeam and Commander Celestia watching me, and judging by the smiles I saw on both their faces they had o’erheard White’s words. In light of that I saw no reason to delay rising to my hooves. “If the council will excuse me, I have family business to attend to.”
Commander Celestia smiled and nodded indulgently. “We think we can end this council for now. Please, return to your business, my ponies. And I am glad for thy good tidings, Shadow.”
“As are we all,” Sunbeam agreed, placing a hoof on mine and leaning in to speak privately. “I would not wish to intrude upon the initial reunion, but feel free to join me in my tower once that has been tended to. I know Midnight has sorely missed Gale and will be most heartened by her return. Especially when her confinement presses upon her so heavily.”
“I am sure Gale will be glad to see her as well,” I murmured.
White very softly cleared her throat once more. “Milady, there is one other matter. Dame Gale is not returning alone...”
I made haste to the southern gates, eager to finally lay eyes upon my child once more. For once I was almost glad of the unwanted admiration I seemed to have gained, for ponies hastened to remove themselves from my path. Not that I would have allowed gawking merchants or soldiers to bar my way for any longer than ‘twould have taken to move them. It likely also helped that White was scrambling my wake, calling out to the ponies of Canterlot to make way for me. While I had been uncertain about taking her on at first, she was making a habit of proving herself rather useful.
After what seemed both an eternity and merely a few moments, I saw my daughter for the first time since my death. As White had said, she waited for me at the southern gates. She looked smaller than I recalled, mayhaps on account of lacking her usual arms and armor. While irksome, that was hardly surprising, given the length of her captivity. (1)
1: Presumably Gale’s wargear had been recycled by the rebels at some point since her capture. While it was often customary to retain a prisoner’s gear in order to return it to them upon their release, enforcing that custom often proved difficult. Most likely Gale’s armor was scavenged by armorers who either could not or would not repair damage to existing suits.
As I stood before my child once more, I was suddenly mindful of the many eyes watching our reunion. Though nopony was so ill-mannered as to directly intrude upon us, the sight of mother and daughter reunited naturally excited no small amount of curiosity. I had no wish to make a spectacle of myself or her, and so with great difficulty I restrained mine emotions and forced my countenance to stoicism expected of a warleader. “Gale. Thou art returned.”
After her long captivity, my daughter had no such concerns. “Mother!” She rushed forward, snatching me in a fierce embrace and burying her face in my shoulder. “Oh, I have missed you so. For a time I thought I would ne’er...” She could not finish the sentence, but I knew what she would have said.
I eagerly returned my daughter’s embrace, secretly relieved that I need no longer restrain myself. While a materfamilias should not display excessive emotion, the world would think me heartless if I did not return my daughter’s affections. “I have missed thee no less keenly, my child.” With utmost reluctance I slowly released her, drawing back carefully to inspect her for any injuries or new scars. “Thou art well?”
Gale endured mine inspection with the faintest hint of irritation, which in and of itself was some reassurance that she was unharmed. From what I could see of her, no great evils had befallen her during her captivity. Though she was a touch thinner than I cared for after a month’s confinement and a prisoner’s diet, I saw no evidence she had been ill-treated. ‘Twould seem that, as Dusk had said, she had been spared from any cruelties Swift or the Avatar might have considered. If so, I owed him a great boon.
I noted Gale’s eyes travelling o’er me as well, which I suppose should not have come as any surprise. When last she saw me, Bright had pierced my lung with a lance—a wound that ought to have slain me, and mayhaps had by some reckonings. It seemed mine appearance met her approval, for she nodded. “Aye, I am as well as could be expected. And far better now that I am home once more.”
“As we are better, now that thou art returned to us.” I grasped her shoulder, as if I feared she would vanish in an instant if I did not maintain my hold upon her. “I know Midnight will be most relieved to see thee once more. She felt thine absence keenly. As did many others.”
Gale nodded, glancing about the crowd surrounding us. “I am surprised she is not here to greet me. I trust the child is well?”
“Well enough, though waiting for thee at her mother’s tower.” Though I was reluctant to speak a lie, we were in far too public a venue to tell Gale the true reason for Midnight’s confinement. “The city is too much a battleground for children to wander about unescorted.”
“I see.” Gale cast a glance back towards the gate. “I would like to visit the tower as soon as my duties allow, to reassure her that I am returned and well. Pity we cannot set a course for there at once, but I have one lingering matter to attend to.”
Her eyes fell upon the pony who had accompanied her to the city. Dusk Charger stood perfectly still, surrounded by a circle of my clanponies who watched his every move with utmost wariness. “I suspect they would slay him if he so much as breathed in a way they did not like. Naturally, I could not allow such a thing.”
“It seems thou hast grown fonder of him, then,” I murmured.
“Nothing of the sort,” Gale immediately denied, though I noted the slightest darkening of her cheeks. “I merely wish to ensure that I am the one who slays him.”
“Ah, of course.” I knew my daughter well enough to gauge the difference ‘tween her spoken words and the truth hidden within her heart. Though of course, speaking of it within earshot of Dusk would only sour our reunion. “Well, if ‘tis not thine intention to slay him today, then let us speak away from the walls. I would prefer a measure of privacy for our conversation.” I turned to the rebel envoy. “Dusk, if thou wilt leave thy weapons at the gate, thou canst rest until thou art ready to return to thy camp. I thank thee for escorting my child home.”
Dusk bowed respectfully. “Of course. ‘Twas my pleasure to escort fair and lovely Gale back to her mother.” He shot a smile towards my daughter, which she answered with an annoyed glower. “Though I do have a couple matters I need to discuss with you, mater.”
“Is that so?” I suspected he had terms from Rightly, given the conditions of his release. Howe’er, I did not wish to address the war just yet. “Very well then. We can discuss thy business after I have a few moments in privacy with my child.”
“But of course,” Dusk replied without a moment’s hesitation. “I had no intention of intruding upon the two of you. While my business is of the utmost importance, it can wait for howe’er long you and the lovely Gale need.”
Gale’s wings flicked, and she shot an annoyed look at the stallion. “Sadly, Mother, his business is in fact worth your time. A pity, as it means I must tolerate his existence for a few moments longer ere I might finally slay him.”
“Then I shall not make him wait too long,” I murmured.
I would have led my child to a nearby guardhouse, if not for White Knight delicately clearing her throat. I had all but forgotten about my young squire, who had remained dutifully silent while I spoke with my daughter. “Milady Gale, I am your mother’s squire. I am given to understand you have a claim on Dusk Charger’s life?”
Gale blinked, staring down at the young unicorn mare. After some time she cautiously answered. “I have stated mine intention to slay him, aye.”
“I see.” She grimaced faintly, then slowly nodded. “In that case, I shall defer on mine own claim against him. ‘Twas he who lead the attack that slew my brother, and I had wished to avenge myself upon him should the opportunity present itself. Howe’er, thy rank is greater and I presume also older than mine own, and I would not wish to seem presumptuous.” She cast a baleful glare at the rebel. “That said, should he attempt some treachery, I would ask thy forgiveness if I am forced to cut him down like a dog.”
Gale hesitated, uncertainly regarding the sheer malice in my young squire’s countenance. After some time she answered, “Dusk Charger is an envoy, and protected as such. If we were to slay him it would make us look the villains. E’en if ‘twere justified, many would not believe us.”
“Aye, that is so.” One of White’s ears twitched, and she spared another menacing glare for Dusk. “That said, while I will defer to thy claim if we both face him on the battlefield, I will not allow him to escape if you are absent. Meaning no offense, of course.”
“None is taken.” Gale shifted uncertainly on her hooves, casting back a look at the Charger that was bereft of its usual hostility. “In that case, I must make certain to find him first.”
“But of course, milady,” White answered dutifully. “I will watch o’er him while you speak with your mother. Should he cause any trouble, I shall make every reasonable effort to take him alive so that you might slay him yourself.”
“That would be appreciated,” Gale murmured.
Amusing as it was to watch my daughter flounder about in the face of a mare who genuinely wished Dusk harm, I wanted my child to myself. “White, if thou wouldst see to the prisoner...”
My dutiful young squire leapt into action, stepping away from Gale and I to watch o’er Dusk as though she were a starving hawk. I saw no reason to expect treachery from him, but if he disappointed me White would be sure to make him suffer for it.
With my squire diverted, I was free to lead Gale to privacy. The guardhouse was naturally occupied by several soldiers resting and taking a meal, but a single pointed look scattered them and gave us the building to ourselves. After a moment’s consideration I stuck my head out the door, catching White’s eye. “A privacy spell, if thou wouldst.” My squire wasted no time answering my request, allowing me to speak with my child without any fear of prying eyes or curious ears.
Gale cast a curious look out the window. “A unicorn squire. It seems much has changed in mine absence, Mother.”
“Sunbeam’s idea,” I explained. “With Stalwart’s injury I needed somepony to take up his duties as mine aide, and Sunbeam believed that granting the post to a unicorn noble might be a prudent political gesture.” Though so far it seemed the nobles were still less than satisfied. “She has proven capable enough thus far.”
Gale nodded, but a second later her countenance brightened slightly. “Stalwart’s injury? So he yet lives? Dusk told me he had died in the fighting.”
“We thought so for a time,” I admitted. “Yet it seems he is either stronger than any of us knew or merely too stubborn to allow himself to die.”
“It seems he is not alone in that regard.” She looked me o’er again, her eyes lingering on my breast where Bright’s lance had pierced me. “Mother, I dared not hope...” She swallowed, struggling with the words. “When I saw you fall, I was certain that the wound was mortal. For a month all within the rebel camp spoke of you as slain, and believed that Sunbeam’s claims to the contrary were naught but a lie intended to bolster our flagging morale. There is a part of me that can still scarcely believe you are...” She hugged me again, clinging to me as if she sought to confirm that I was truly there.
I returned the gesture, stroking her back reassuringly. “Aye, child, I live. Though the price I paid for my survival was a heavy one.”
She slowly withdrew from me, scowling. “What price is that? I have heard things, terrible rumors of fell pacts and darks arts. Naturally I did not believe such talk, especially given how the Avatar was created.” While she did not openly ask, the unspoken question hung heavy ‘tween us. “Were the rumors true?”
E’en with White’s privacy spell, I hesitated to answer her. There were doubtlessly better magi in the city than my squire, and if my status became widely known, it could end very badly for us. Thus, I answered carefully. “Suffice to say that I will not be removing mine armor for some time. Though Sunbeam and Celestia succeeded in preserving my life, ‘twas a very near thing. In truth I am still recovering, and likely will be for some time yet.”
Gale frowned thoughtfully, her own eyes flicking about our less than perfectly secure surroundings. After a few moments she offered me a small, understanding nod. “Some magic is ahoof then? Between the Commander, Sunbeam, and all the magi available in Canterlot, any number of miracles are possible.”
“Aye, and it seems one of them sufficed to save me,” I agreed. “The means used are ... not what I would have preferred, but I am alive, I am myself, and I can fight. Mayhaps e’en better than I did before mine injury. For now, that is enough.”
Gale’s pensive frown told me that she would expect a fuller answer ere long, though for the moment she was satisfied.. “As long as I still have my mother I am satisfied. I ... in truth I felt some empathy for Dusk’s position. His mother may have become a monster, but she was also still his mother. If I were placed in similar circumstances, I would still love you regardless of whate’er you had become.”
I took a deep breath, then slowly nodded. “I am glad to hear it.” As the matter seemed settled for the moment, I let it lie and embraced her once more. “Every moment I knew mine enemies held thee was agony. I feared Bright would seek her vengeance upon thee.”
She clutched me in return, shivering. “Aye, when she threatened to scourge me ... I was almost relieved, in truth. After she learned that you had survived, I expected to face an execution. Though e’en that would have been preferable to some of her other plans, such as wedding me to Dusk so that she could control our clan.”
I could not help but chuckle at daughter’s continuing animosity toward the stallion. “I see thou hast grown no fonder of Dusk. Curious, for he said he watched o’er thee during thy captivity. I would have thought that might improve thine opinion of him.”
Gale shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance. “I suppose ‘tis true that he sheltered me from some misfortunes. He also ... acted as a gentlestallion should, especially considering he held me at a disadvantage.” She grimaced and reluctantly admitted. “I must concede that he exceeded mine expectations of him. Though mayhaps that is not something he should be too proud of, given how incredibly low those expectations were.” For a moment a contemplative frown crossed her face, then she sharply shook her head. “Though what I feel for him is of no concern. When next I see him he shall be mine enemy. Though I might attempt to capture him alive rather than slay him. He is a fool, and his blood would dirty my weapons so badly that I would ne’er be able to wield them again.”
For all her bold words, I noted how her wings curled slightly tighter around her frame, and the slightest catch in her voice as she spoke of her desire to spare him. I knew my daughter too well to be fooled by such bravado. “Gale, thou knowest of my feelings for Rightly, e’en though duty and honor have placed us on opposite sides of the battlefield. If thou wert ... fond of Dusk, then surely there are few who would understand thy position better than I. Thou canst speak honestly to me of such things.”
Gale could not meet mine eyes, and when she spoke her voice was soft, almost subdued. “I would have to be an e’en greater fool than he is to become ... fond of an enemy.”
“Then it seems we are both fools.” I chuckled softly, wrapping a wing around her. “But hopefully ‘twill not be for very long. With any luck, we will not be enemies for much longer. The end of this war would certainly make our lives much simpler.”
“Aye, that would be for the best.” Her eyes lingered on the floor for several seconds longer, then she pointedly cleared her throat and stood tall. When she spoke, she was once more the brash young officer I knew so well. “Especially in light of more recent events. May I offer you a long o’erdue intelligence report, Mother?”
I smiled warmly. “I would be glad to hear it.”
Gale began, seeming to take some comfort in the return to familiar territory. “After his release, Rightly wasted no time in deposing Swift Blade, who has now been stripped of his titles and clan, and banished from Pegasopolis. His clan has withdrawn to Cloudsdale, both as a protest of his removal and so that they might choose a new leader. Given the manner of his removal, there is some debate on whether or not his children should inherit.”
Welcome news indeed, though not entirely surprising. The withdrawal of the Blades from the war effort was a welcome boon. Though Swift’s clan was neither large nor especially skilled, e’en a few hundred warriors removing themselves from the battlefield was a victory. Especially if the debate o’er a new clan head extended long enough for the rest of the war to reach its end first. Or mayhaps, in a twist of the absurd irony that only war can produce, the Blades would be so incensed by Swift’s exile that they defected?
“There is e’en more momentous news,” Gale continued. “Though this information comes from Dusk, and is thus naturally unreliable, I have no reason to think he lies. According to him, the Archwarlock Hidden Facts was slain by the Avatar. One of Rightly’s conditions for taking up leadership of the war effort was that the warlocks abandon the use of black magic. When the Avatar accepted Hidden flew into a rage and attacked her. The new archwarlock appointed by the Avatar did not repeat his mistake, and the rebels have sworn off any further use of the forbidden arts.”
I could scarcely believe our good fortune. Not only had Swift been deposed, but Hidden Facts was slain. Sunbeam would certainly be pleased, though mayhaps also somewhat irked that she was not the one to see it done. Regardless... “That is a considerable victory indeed. By releasing Rightly we have achieved more than we have in many battles.”
“Aye, so it seems,” Gale agreed, though she did not appear as delighted by the news as I was. “Though I would caution that the war is far from o’er. The rebel camp is quite excited by the return of Rightly. Faith in their cause had flagged under Swift’s poor management, but many feel that Rightly’s return will restore the rebellion to its proper course. I heard much talk of how he will end the siege in a week’s time by launching the sort of decisive and brilliant strike which Swift ne’er could have managed.”
“I do not think ‘twill come to that.” For all my low opinion of Swift, I could not attribute the stalling of the rebel advance solely to his incompetence. Though it may be immodest to say so, I had planned the entire siege of Canterlot as a slow, grinding battle which sapped the rebels’ strength and negated many of their advantages. “E’en if Rightly has such skill, I suspect he will offer terms first. Am I wrong in suspecting that is what Dusk wishes to discuss?”
“He has said as much to me,” Gale confirmed.
I nodded, turning to the exit. “Well then, I should not keep him waiting any longer.”
“Neigh, I suppose not,” Gale groused. “At least I shall finally see the last of him after this. At least for a while. The fool had best not get himself killed ere I am done with him.”
“Aye, that would be a terrible shame.” Much like the Avatar, I was already pondering the political repercussions of a union ‘tween my daughter and Dusk. ‘Twould do much to heal the wounds of the war, and allow both our clans to move forward.
I found the stallion who, with any luck, would one day be my son-in-law waiting outside by the gates. He had set aside his weapons and was in the midst of trying to make small talk with my clanponies. He met with little success, likely on account of the hateful glare White Knight had fixed upon him. He greeted my return with an eager smile, no doubt relieved to see somepony who would treat him civilly.
“Dusk.” I waved the guards aside, allowing him approach me. “What didst thou wish to discuss? Terms from Rightly?”
“Indeed so,” he confirmed, drawing out a scroll stamped with the two seals. One I recognized as Rightly’s but the other briefly baffled me: a circular shield, with a crescent moon embossed upon it. ‘Twas presumably the Avatar’s device, as it combined elements of both Bright and Luna’s symbols. “As I was already escorting your lovely daughter to the city, Mother asked that I convey their peace terms to you as well.”
“Very good then.” I took the scroll, and after a moment’s consideration broke the seal. While I would naturally need to discuss the offer with Commander Celestia and Sunbeam, I was well within my rights to read the offer first. ‘Twould allow me to give Dusk some idea of how we were likely to respond.
Unfortunately, after a quick read-through of the offer I knew exactly what our answer would be. “I am afraid this is unacceptable.” The Commander might consider the offer if another of her melancholy moods took her, but Sunbeam and I most certainly would not.
Dusk sighed, his shoulders slumping in weary resignation. “I feared that would be your answer. Is there at least enough to form the basis for further negotiations?”
I grimaced and went o’er the terms one by one. “The independence of Pegasopolis is not something we are in any position to dispute, andd we likewise have no objection to allowing new elections amongst the earth ponies, though I find the proposed measures dubious. Having pegasi guard all polling places and supervise the election count seems likely to skew the results, e’en before the ban on Commander Celestia and any candidates directly associated with her. And demanding that she abdicate from the throne of Unicornia, and a council of nobles name a new monarch...” I grimaced and shook my head. “The rebels do not have the right or the strength to demand such a thing, it would be a farce. Or merely a bit of pageantry to legitimize the Avatar taking the throne. And I suspect Sunbeam would sooner flee into exile than accept such terms.”
Dusk frowned and grunted softly, shaking his head. “I suppose that comes as no surprise.”
“‘Tis a farce!” Gale snapped, glowering at Dusk as if he were to blame for this. “They knew that we would never accept such terms.”
“Aye.” Mine eyes flicked to the gathered soldiers, some of whom had doubtless served the old unicorn nobles ere the war began. Nobles who might well be tempted by the thought of removing Celestia and elevating one of their own to the throne. Not that I expected the Avatar to allow any other to occupy it. “But is it a farce for our benefit, or somepony else's?”
Dusk sighed, his eyes falling the ground. “I suspect ‘twas meant to satisfy the demands of honor without ending the war. Mother, or more likely Luna, has no intention of accepting any peace short of total victory. She and Celestia are as two opposing forces; there will only be peace when one or the other prevails. In truth, I do not think e’en mere abdication would be enough for her. The Avatar will only be satisfied when Celestia is slain.”
“So it seems.” I grimaced. “I had hope Rightly would prevail upon her better nature. If anypony could draw out Bright’s virtues...”
Dusk could not meet mine eyes for several seconds. “It is ... not so simple as that. Rightly does desire peace, but a secure peace of which Pegasopolis can be proud. I think any peace where the Avatar sits in Cloudsdale and Celestia in Canterlot would be naught but a short truce to rebuild and prepare for the next war.” He flicked a wing towards the wall, and the rebel camp beyond it. “The soldiers are in good spirits now. They speak of how Rightly’s return heralds the turning of the tide, and believe the next attack will break you. I suspect Rightly will strike soon after word of your refusal arrives. Nothing o’erly excessive, but something to firmly demonstrate the strength of his position. Then he will offer terms once more, and if you refuse the process shall repeat itself. Though of course, if he sees a chance to win the siege entirely...”
I suppose that should not have come as such a shock to me. Rightly’s strategy was the most accepted way to conduct diplomacy in the midst of a siege. The besiegers would offer terms, and if they were not accepted the battle would continue until another offer was made that reflected the new realities on the battlefield. If he advanced his position, he would press for a harder teaty; if his attack failed, he would offer more a generous one. Presuming neither side won a decisive victory, the siege would eventually reach a point where we both so sick of it we would find enough middle ground to end it.
Howe’er, I had not imagined a peace slowly ground out through further battles. The war was not o’er. Indeed, there could be months more ere we put an end to this madness. Presuming the Avatar and Rightly did not find some way to break our defenses entirely, as they would surely attempt to do should an opportunity present itself.
I slammed an armored hoof into wall. “Damn!” I took several breaths, trying to regain my composure after the sudden outburst and somewhat surprised to see cracks form in the thick stone. Once I felt in control of my humours once more, I turned to Dusk. “Dost thou think he can be swayed from this course?”
Dusk’s troubled silence was answer enough, e’en before he spoke. “I think he would be hard-pressed to end the war any other way. Too many of our warriors have died, too much sacrificed. He must have some victory to show his clan at the end of it all to make all they have suffered worthwhile.” Dusk hesitated a moment, then reluctantly added, “I suspect there might also be a small measure of pride to it, though he would likely be offended if I said so. Honorable or not, Rightly is a warrior. I think ‘twould sit ill with him to make peace without e’en once trying to break the city.”
I should have known as much. Doubtless his long captivity had worn upon him, especially as the war continued in his absence. The chance to return to war and prove his mettle, to redeem any loss of honor he might have suffered from his capture ... ‘twould be all too tempting. If he did not at least try to take Canterlot, he might always wonder if he could have done so.
Yet for all that I understood his reasons, I could not forgive them. It seemed that whene’er I counted upon his honor to bring him to my side, he inevitably disappointed me. Though I loved him still, he was once more mine enemy. Mayhaps it had been foolish of me to think that had e’er changed just because he was an honorable stallion. ‘Twas plain that mine own honor was of a different sort than his. ‘Tis often said that if one asked ten ponies to define honor, I would be met with a score of answers. Where I saw honor in serving Celestia’s ideals and bringing peace to Equestria, he felt the need to continue this war for Pegasopolis.
I took a slow breath, and tried to put my personal feelings aside to focus on my duty. “So be it. He has made his choice. I will settle mine accounts with him in due time. Thou wilt not suffer on his account, though. I will send a messenger to retrieve thy sister at once, and the two of thee will be free to return to the rebel camp.”
“My thanks but...” Dusk paused, seeming uncertain of his words. “I would like to speak with her first. There are things that must be done before she returns to the camp, if she does at all.”
His words caught me by surprise. “And why would she not? Gale is returned to me, and so she shall be released. That was our bargain.”
Dusk took a slow, steadying breath. “Our cause has become a perversion of what it once was. We began this war in the name of freedom for all ponykind, yet now it has become nothing more than a dynastic struggle ‘tween two alicorns. The world will be no better for our victory; all that will change is whether we are ruled o’er by a Sun Tyrant or a Moon Tyrant. And of the two, I fear that ‘tis the Avatar who more deserves the moniker. In light of that, I feel I have no choice but to join your cause.” He dropped to his knees before me. “I am prepared to pledge my lance to Celestia, the best Commander Pegasopolis can hope for in such dark times.”
Of all the possible outcomes of this conversation, this was not one I had anticipated. That Bright’s son would turn against her and willingly join our cause...
While I was at a loss for words, my daughter was not. “Curses, now I cannot look forward to slaying him in battle.”