//------------------------------// // Raising the moon // Story: Crackship in a bottle // by Shrink Laureate //------------------------------// Ponies believe I raise the sun in the morning. That would, of course, be ridiculous. The sun weighs vastly more than I do, more than the whole world and its moon put together a hundred thousand times over. Not even the most powerful unicorns who ever lived could push that object around. Were I to somehow grip the whole sun with my power and shove it as hard as I could, all I would achieve would be to fling my own body into the air or crush it into the ground. Nor could I hope to move the world beneath our hooves, which has travelled around the sun in a pattern older than the air we breathe or the water in our blood, and will continue to do so far longer than anypony will ever be alive to see it. What I can do is to nudge… I was taking a stroll through the third pool garden, letting my hooves gently sink into the damp moss as the water trickled from one pool into the next. The low sun filtered through the trees into sharp patches of golden light that rustled amid subtly shifting shadows. I kept half an eye on them, counting down till the moment I would need to raise the moon again. The day had been taken up with negotiations with the Zebra ambassador, while the evening was to be occupied by a banquet and ball in celebration of our new friendship – both, of course, requiring strict adherence to intricate rhyming structures. Even now, my dress, jewellery and make-up for the evening were being prepared by Celery Stalk and Tea Leaves, while the royal ghostwriting team were frantically brainstorming my speeches. This brief window of peace was all the respite I would get. With the war in Cloudsdale still fresh in everypony’s memory, I would typically be accompanied by at least one guard everywhere I went, but I’d asked the fellow to wait at the entrance to the garden to allow me just a few minutes of solitude. Not for the first or last time, it bit me like a chill wind to have to face this and every other trial alone. I was of course surrounded by ponies: courtiers, guards and servants, advisors and experts in myriad fields, as well as the endless ranks of aristocracy from a hundred bickering kingdoms. But none of them could take the place of my dear sister. None were ready to listen to my worries, nor could they read my mood the second they saw me and cut straight through it with a few sharp words. I stepped carelessly off the path and my hoof settled into the mud with a satisfying squelch. Tea Leaves would not be pleased at the extra cleaning he’d now need to make my appearance perfect for the evening, but even so I took a moment’s pleasure in the honest feel of earth and water sliding around my hoof. I was tempted to simply dive into the pool, shallow though it was, and let loose; but that would make a terrible mess of Tea Leaves’ hard work. I contented myself with a graceful trot. I gradually became aware of the sound of shouting and pursuit approaching from the direction of the statue garden. You may be surprised to hear that this wasn’t particularly unusual. It was common in those days for young trainees in the city guard to be challenged by their new colleagues to break into the palace gardens after dark in order to place a piece of fruit on Discord’s nose. Less than one in four succeeded in the challenge, and even fewer then evaded capture as they fled, but those who made valiant effort had at least proven their courage. I don’t know who started the challenge, but it had survived enough years of recruits that now many of their instructors and commanding officers had faced the same task in their youth. There was a certain rivalry between the palace and city guards over it, but Royal Guard Captain Prime Thunder considered it to be good training and did rather less than he might have to discourage the misdemeanour. I don’t believe that any one of them was aware of who or what Discord really was. Even if they’d heard the story, they would have assumed it was simply a fairy tale, and the target of their prank was merely an ugly statue, not the spirit of chaos himself. I imagined that Discord would approve of both the stupid prank and the uproar regularly created in his name. So it was not at all unusual for evenings in the palace to be punctuated by chases across the royal garden, and the staff habitually managed the chaos to make sure sensitive guests were kept out of the way. This time, however, my peaceful walk was interrupted by a blurred shadow that appeared from the undergrowth, flew straight across my path, and would no doubt have vanished into the trees on the other side of the garden and made its escape had its trajectory not taken it directly through my mane. It instead thrashed at the impediment and sploshed unceremoniously into the pool. A stallion had landed at my feet, all four of his legs sticking up in the air, his wings and mane submerged, his face directly underneath my own – and a massive goofy grin spread across it. I leaned down to look sternly at his upside-down face. “I take it thou placed an apple ’pon poor Discord’s snout? Or a banana? Perhaps, for variety, a bunch of grapes?” “No, Princess,” he replied through smirking satisfaction. “No?” “’Twas a durian.” I stared implacably down at him. He grinned back at me. I stared at him. He grinned at me. The foul scent from the statue garden started to tickle my nostrils. I managed to hold my straight face for just a few more seconds before collapsing into a giggle, in which he quickly joined me. “What is thy name, guardspony?” “Swift Justice,” he replied, adding “Corporal in the Fifth Lunar Company.” I nodded. One of the many units from across the Equestrian kingdoms that were gathering in Everfree. A frantic scrambling of hooves on gravel told me somepony was headed down the path towards us. Quickly making my decision, I levitated a pair of large fern leaves across to hide the fugitive, whispering, “Stir not from here,” just before my personal guard and two others charged round the corner. “Princess! Art thou well?” the leader called as they skidded to a stop in front of me. “Has the assailant disturbed thee?” “I remain quite unassailed, as thou may plainly see,” I responded calmly. “Hast thou seen or heard the intruder? He was last seen fleeing this direction.” “I have not.” I tilted my head as if to convey that this seemed like a silly line of questioning. “Then if thou may excuse us, Princess, we must continue pursuit forthwith. Please be on guard.” Two of them then resumed their search, one by air and the other turning around and leaving quickly by the same path they’d entered. My personal guard remained, an exaggerated attentive look screwing up his face as he scanned the bushes. “Ahem.” I coughed pointedly. “Fret not, Princess. I’m here to keep thee safe.” “A service that I do generally appreciate, Storm Smoke, yet I would prefer to spend these next few minutes alone. ’Tis almost time for me to raise the moon,” I reminded him. “I swear I shall not disturb—” “Alone,” I said more forcefully. He hesitated, then withered under my glare. “As thy Highness wishes. I shall await nearby.” He trotted nervously back to his post, casting conspicuous glances at the undergrowth as if expecting to find a whole flock of gryphons lurking there. Once sure that he’d gone, I lifted a sprig of fern to reveal my nervous fugitive. He hadn’t moved, though he’d started shivering and his grin had faded a little. Perhaps leaving him sitting in cold running water hadn’t been the best idea? The nights were getting cooler. “They’ve left,” I said. “But I would remain quiet lest they hear thee.” He nodded and scrambled to his hooves, allowing me to notice two things. First, that my assailant was somewhat pleasing to the eye. My guards are typically well muscled, even as recruits, since they train so hard – particularly with the threat of another war hanging over the kingdoms – but this stallion had a sinewy strength suggestive of a broader active lifestyle. He shook the water from his grey coat and his striking white mane and tail, in a way that made the cute little white tufts at the end of his ears… And second, that he was in fact a lunar pegasus (referred to colloquially as a ‘bat pony’). This hadn’t been evident while his wings and ears were submerged; his eyes were such a dark shade of gold that in the fading light I hadn’t discerned their cat-like shape. That at least explained why he was so cold: without feathers, his wings lost heat much more quickly than ordinary pegasi, particularly when held under cool running water while trying not to breathe too loudly. He did look rather bedraggled as he dripped into the stones. I cast a quick spell to dry him out and warm up his fur, and suppressed a chuckle as I saw it fluff up. “That should relieve the chill.” “I am grateful, Princess,” he replied politely. “Now if thou might excuse me, I have a trifling matter to attend to,” I said, turning my attention to the sky. Swift Justice stepped back as I hopped nimbly onto a slightly raised mound and faced the setting sun. I lit up my unicorn magic, letting the invisibly small crackles of power explore outwards, guiding them out through the layers of the atmosphere, across the vast gulf between worlds until they found the angry chaos of the sun, locked in its eternal battle between explosive rage and gravitational collapse. The myriad tendrils of magical potential explored their way across the vast landscape of its boiling surface until they collapsed into a single chain that snapped tight, tethered to the mass of the sun like a vast immobile anchor.    …my hooves touch down upon the roiling, billowing surface. A lake of fire stretches out around me, impossibly bright, ebbing and flowing in endless waves so large they feel slow, endlessly collapsing and reforming. Around me erupt storms and whirlpools large enough to swallow my world. High above my head stretch the enormous fractal curls and buttresses of an impromptu cathedral, boldly licking into space then crashing down. A sudden sheet of lightning tears across the sky, passing over and through me in its passage. Looking down, my own hooves are aglow, a pony of white fire…   I sent similar questing flickers of power toward the moon behind me. As always I searched the colourless landscape for any sign of my sister’s spirit, but found only the lunar dust, scoured of its soul by the harsh winds of space. Digging deep into its lifeless surface, I connected the two into a solid channel of magic reaching across the cosmos and passing straight through me.    …with a flap of my wings against the aether, I alight on the cold, grey surface of an empty world. Even the gentle touch of my landing launches a scattering of dust that will take minutes to settle. There is no wind in my mane, no scent in my nostrils, no sound in my ears, no echo in my horn save my own heart. There is no life here, no air, no magic. My legs feel cold, every touch leeching life’s heat out of my body. I stand in a crater, the scar of an ancient impact that time and weather have never been able to erode away. Only one living thing can be seen here, the hauntingly intricate blue world rising over the horizon…   Turning my attention down to the ground, I explored it with threads of my earth pony magic, working it deep into the ground. Latching my power deep within the earth, I connected it to the channel of power I’d created.    …sinking ever faster through convoluted layers, through roots and soil and clay and chalk, through the resting layers of underground lakes, through caverns and cavities and fractures and fissures. Past the many undiscovered little creatures that live their dark quiet lives too deep underground for any pony ever to see. Into the shaking, shifting, bottom edge of the world where solid gives way to an ocean of molten rock held in place by its own pressure…   Fluffing my wings slightly, I braced myself against the atmosphere with pegasus magic. It would not do to let myself be dragged indignantly along the ground while doing this. A perfectly balanced system, like a million-mile-long rod resting on the end of my hoof; and all I needed to do was nudge it slightly to make the whole system turn. With the faintest whisper of command from my horn, a truly staggering amount of natural magic power began to flow between these great bodies through the channels I had laid for it. This sudden rush of energies through me was dizzying, intoxicating. A mare could lose herself in it. With one more whisper, the astronomical forces exerted their own pressure, transferring a little of their momentum into the crust of the planet, causing its rotation to accelerate just a fraction. This had the visible effect of making the sun, which had been slowly approaching the horizon, appear to drop more quickly behind it in a blaze of brilliant hues. Something in the churning interior of our world seeks stasis, constantly slowing the surface’s rotation. Left unattended, it would soon run down entirely; the sun’s progression across the sky would falter over a few days or weeks and gradually slide to a stop at one place in the sky; then one side of the world would burn, the other would freeze, and savage storms would tear across the boundary between them. Only with pony intervention was this world kept alive, kept spinning. Before the reign of Discord, teams of unicorns worked together at full strength to make sure the planet’s rotation stayed on track. Unicorns would burn their magic out permanently through the exertion. The reason they had to struggle so hard to achieve it wasn’t through lack of magical force, though as an alicorn I have an advantage over them both in raw power and the addition of earth pony and pegasus magics; rather it was because they tried to do everything the hard way. They tried to shove the celestial bodies to where they wanted with force, when all they really needed to do was ask nicely. Most days all it needs is a gentle nudge at dawn and dusk to keep the whole system ticking along. I knew even then that the job couldn’t be mine forever. Some day I would hand in my crown, surrender the Elements of Harmony to their next bearers, shed my ethereal mane, and let somepony else take on my celestial duties. I would have to find and train that pony before it was too late. But not yet; that was a task for another century. For now I must work on building a peaceful land out of the fractured tribes of ponykind. It was at this point that I realised Swift Justice had been staring intently at my rump for the last three minutes. “Something intrigues thee, soldier?” I asked, turning to face him. Rather than expressing even an ounce of shame or fear for gazing so intently upon the royal hindquarters, he seemed thoughtful. “Art thou aware that thy cutie mark glows when thou doest that?” Honestly, no, I didn’t. I suspected it was merely an excuse. “Doth it truly? It would seem amiss that in the centuries I have spent raising the sun and moon each day, nopony has ever thought to mention the fact.” He remained uncowed. “Perhaps they each believed thou must already know?” he asked cheerfully. “Perhaps. Yet still, nary a word?” He wasn’t budging, and neither was I. “’Tis a mystery, Princess.” “’Tis indeed.” I noticed him still shivering, despite the drying spell earlier. “Thou’rt cold,” I said sternly. Hesitantly he replied, “I am, Princess. Forgive me, for I am not yet used to the climate here.” He expressed more regret in these words than in the preceding exchange, as if admitting to his physical weaknesses were shameful. Was that a part of lunar pegasus culture? I had to admit, my knowledge of their tribe’s traditions was lacking. Nonetheless, it would not do for a loyal guard to suffer unduly. I stepped over to lay a warm wing around him, gently pulling his flank next to mine. “Thou’rt with the Fifth Lunar?” I asked quietly. He nodded. I continued, “For the time being, at least. I expect we’ll be moving thee into the new hierarchy soon enough. How many lunar companies have we?” “Three, Princess. The first and fifth Lunar, and third Stellar.” “Is third Stellar not the company the defeated the minotaurs two years past?” “I believe so, Princess, though they took some losses in the encounter.” “If they want for soldiers to form a full century, then we may have need to combine them with another company soon.” “Mmmm,” he responded as he nestled into my wing. He was snuggling with a little too much familiarity, but I tolerated it. My curiosity overtook me. “Tell me, soldier, from whence did thou pluck a durian?” I asked. “They are not native to Everfree, nor to anywhere nearby.” “From the zebra stall that appeared in the marketplace yesterday. They peddle all manner of strange goods from other lands.” At a hefty profit, no doubt, since the exotic always fetches a premium. “Interesting. I wonder if they came here with the zebra delegation. Did thou catch the shopkeeper’s name and whence he hails?” “Baishara is his name, from the city of Marephis. He has an assistant also, who I believe is named Siri. I heard Baishara say his brother was a captain in the hussars.” Swift Justice was a good listener, it seemed, having learned that much in only a day. I made a note that he may prove useful. “That brother is probably Captain Haraka of the Pharaoh’s guard. ’Tis most interesting that he’d bring his own brother along yet fail to introduce him at the palace,” I mused. “Perhaps they intend to garner the word on the street, in hopes of an advantage in negotiations.” Again we were interrupted. “Princess! Princess, art thou here?” came a voice shouting across the gardens. That sounded like Tea Leaves, the poor stallion as distraught as ever. He clearly wanted to get my mane styled properly before the ball. “Discord’s horns,” I swore under my breath. I had been amused to hear that in the centuries since acceding the throne an increasing number of ponies had taken to using my name as an expletive, but taking my own name in vain wasn’t an appealing option for me. So when need arose I typically fell back on the curses of my youth. Swift Justice looked up at me. “Princess?” I pulled my wing back to my side. “I fear that I may’nt tarry any longer, for I am required to go and be boring. I take it thou can find thy own way out?” He nodded. I took two steps away then launched into the air. Even in those days, lunar pegasi were rarely seen in Everfree. Their bloodline hadn’t yet blended into the general pony population, and the prejudice their tribe faced led them to prefer isolated communities where they could live in peace. I’m sorry to say that my sister was inadvertently part of the problem. When she commissioned the Lunar Guard entirely of bat ponies, it was seen as a great honour, and there were parades down the streets in their honour. Barely more than a century later, her transformation and the temporary loss of the sun shocked ponies with fear. Worse, many of the bat ponies sided with her, and there was blood shed before the incident was finished. Since then, the other tribes have been frightened by them and their ‘bat-like’ appearance. It probably wouldn’t help matters if I pointed out that their origin had more connection to dragons than to bats. Still, we had three companies of them to integrate. Third Stellar in particular had useful combat experience that should not be squandered. Perhaps I could assign the fastest and stealthiest of pegasi to make up their century? Call it an honour, let them learn from the best. The other two companies of lunar pegasi would need breaking up and merging with a dozen other kingdoms’ forces, finding the best place for each pony to perform their best and allocating each company a suitable balance of tribes and home lands – all while ensuring each pony ended up with at least equivalent rank in the new structure, to avoid insulting either the soldiers or the lords who supplied them. To show favour to one kingdom or tribe over another – my own Everfree included – would cause resentment to fester. To allow any one kingdom’s forces to remain whole or make up the majority in one part of the army would risk outright rebellion and the collapse of the new accords. To slice their forces up too fine, separating comrades and sowing confusion, would demolish their ability to fight together. A legion built from this balancing act of politics and practicality. Ten thousand stallions and mares divided, shuffled and reassigned, their fates decided by the stroke of a quill. Would the proud unicorns of Canterlot willingly serve a lunar pegasus captain? Would the earth ponies of Manehatten take orders from unicorns? Or would the whole edifice collapse at the precise moment it was first needed? It was a mad game I was playing, yet it was the only way I could conceive to end the squabbling wars of the past and defend the Equestrian kingdoms against the growing threats abroad. Was I making an irrevocable mistake? The ball that evening went as well as could be expected, which is to say that it was dull beyond measure. Tea Leaves fussed over my mane, tail and hooves while Celery Stalk ensured my dress was immaculate. Meanwhile I memorised the polite words I’d be speaking later. Complements were due to the pair of crack poets that were holed up in the library churning out speeches in the zebra style. Timbre and Crystal Wit had between them delivered enough apt verses on the subject of peaceful trade and cultural exchange, subtly witty without being offensive, while leaving out all the ones that started ‘There was a young mare from Vanhoover.’ I wondered if I could get a few of those smuggled to my suite later. Canapes were eaten, words were spoken, staid dances were danced, and absolutely nothing of importance was talked about. I imagine for a bright-eyed filly from the countryside such a ball would have been thrillingly romantic, but I found it vapid and tedious. I quietly longed to invite Discord to one of these events. It would no doubt spell the end of ponykind, but it would at least be interesting for a change. I suppose I could have asked for his statue to be moved into the palace for one event, but I didn’t have the heart to invite him in his current form. Being forced to watch a dull event like that without the freedom to change a single thing would be too cruel, even for a monster. I was relieved when the evening ended and I was able to retire to my quarters and order some real food from the palace kitchen. I suspected many of the guests were doing similar, keeping the army of cooks from their beds. A pile of scrolls were waiting for me, both notes for the morning’s negotiations and status reports on the reorganisation. I start to leaf through them, but could not prevent my mind wandering. Was I doing the right thing? Would a unified military truly help bring the Equestrian kingdoms together as I hoped and forestall future conflict? Might it not instead prove a useful tool for some future Sombra or Nightmare Moon? Might the other kingdoms – gryphons, yaks, minotaurs or even zebras – see it as a challenge? My thoughts were brought sharply back to reality as a weight rested on my muzzle. Crossing my eyes to focus, I realised that something had been placed on my nose. I jerked back in surprise, letting it thud off the table and roll across the floor. I narrowed my eyes as it came to rest and I saw that it was a small, ripe mango. Casting around to catch my assailant, I saw the tail of a shadow disappear off the balcony into the night. A few moments later, I heard a shout as the royal guard caught sight of it and took chase, filling the night with the familiar sound of pursuit. I had a suspicion for who had placed it there, but I haven’t ruled for centuries by being an idiot. From a safe distance I carefully scanned the mango for enchantments, spell effects, potions, poisons, explosives and radiation. It showed up as nothing but ripe and delicious. Keeping my eyes on it, I walked over to ring the bell. A few moments later my hoofmaiden trotted into the room. “Yes, Princess?” “Orchid, hast thou ever eaten a mango?”