Fire on the Mountain

by MongolianFoodHoarder


Chapter 5

There was no need to announce the presence of Princess Celestia. The elegant voice of a guard gleefully expelled a swath of titles in her favor, but was eclipsed by Celestia’s approach from below. Her coat gleamed in the sun, her gold adornments shimmered like the stars, and Tor was swept up in her glory. He had seen her plenty of times from afar, but nothing could prepare him to witness the elegance of the beautifully sculpted equine.

As she approached, Tor could not avert his gaze from Celestia’s eyes. It was as if her irises warped the world into it, like the universe was made to bend to her will. The closer she got, Tor saw his reflection, his beak agape as her eyes showed his humbled form.

The world seemed to freeze. A sense of maternal love embraced him. It was as if he was being caressed in his mother’s arms one last time. He could not help but smile fondly.

What charm is she employing on me? Tor wondered. Was this just because of the centuries of her existence? Was this how she exerted her authority? Such love, such serenity, such

“Sir?” A collected voice broke him of his concentration. Tor reached up and patted himself down, confirming that yes, he does exist. Looking around, the whole deck stared at him, including Golden Sunshine standing next to him. Her cocked eyebrows suggested she was more amused by his performance than anything else.

“Sir?” Celestia asked. “Are you in need of a physician?”

Tor shot his brow up, widening his eyes in alarm. “Oh, no, no, no! I’m perfectly fine. Just… admiring the scenery?” A warm feeling crept up around his cheeks.  He was reminded of a saying from his early days as a young army officer: “Don’t be a cock-up!

Celestia chuckled. “I agree! The morning graces your city in a way that I’ve never seen anywhere before.”

Tor mentally exhaled. Dodged the arrow there.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, sir.” She gestured to herself with a wingtip. “I am Princess Celestia, and I welcome you to my humble vessel.” She then pointed to Tor. “May I ask the name of my guest?”

“Quite so, Your Majesty — I am Lord Tor Razorwing.” He bowed deeply, but couldn’t help but muse at the outlandish statement about Celestia’s airship. It was far from humble — it was a floating jewel, held aloft with varnished cherry and polished gold.

His bow gracefully transitioned to a stance on all fours and his entourage fell in tow, their gear clanking as they landed. He continued: “I’m taking the place of the Consul this morning. She was forced to address an internal issue, and I apologize for her absence.”

“A very unfortunate matter, considering it was so sudden.” Celestia smiled, but her eyes wandered, disappointed. She seemed bothered by Maia’s absence. “Looking ahead,” she continued, “this is a prime opportunity to get to know you, sir. I’ve been looking forward to putting a face to the name.”

Tor shot his brow up, curious as to what Maia had said about him to garner such attention. “I’m honored, Your Majesty. I had no idea I was regarded!”

“Oh yes,” Celestia replied. “The consul had lovely words about your performance with the zebra — It’s always prudent to have an elegant orator to relay such important information to an… what is it she said? Inflamed party of dignitaries?”

Tor laughed, placing a talon on his chest. “Embassador Azikiwe’s party definitely had its vigor. However, their hospitality is unmatched. They’re some of the finest individuals I’ve been blessed to meet — ever you need a place to settle down in the future, it’s in their stead you would find no better hosts.”

“I agree! Though, the savannah air does terrors to my coat. Perhaps somewhere a little less dry?” Celestia smiled, and Tor did the same. “But for now,” she continued. “We have another issue to address. Maia had mentioned she had a schedule for me. Since she is unavailable now, I was hoping you would give the surprise?”

Tor hid panic behind his smile. “Oh yes! The itinerary for today! What we have scheduled is”  — Before he could complete his sentence, a guard on his left flank handed him the leather-encased documents. Tor untied the thongs and sifted through a few pages.

“We don’t have much in the way of anything strenuous,” He relayed, reading through the schedule. “We have a small scientific exposition down on the Keloni Plains, just outside the city. We’ll also be guests at an event. A demonstration of sorts.” He slid his eyes over the text and nodded: Maia's showcase. “From there, we have scheduled a lovely grass-side banquet.” Tor pulled the package down, beaming warmly. “I would say it’ll be a delightfully easy day for you, Your Majesty.”

She exhaled, relieved. “Such a relaxing day — I don’t normally enjoy such pleasantries. We had better make our way! Don’t want to be too late, now do we?” Celestia turned to a guard next to her, requesting immediate disembarkment.

Returning to Tor: “Care to join me on the helm?” She leaned in closer, as if trying to hide a deadly secret. “I love pulling out of dock.” An adventurous mare at heart.

“Oh, Your Majesty,” Tor exclaimed, growing nervous. “If you don’t mind, I would love to take a closer look at the weather deck before accompanying you. It’s just such an impressive piece of craftsponyship!”

Celestia nodded. “Of course, sir. Please, make yourself comfortable.” Before Tor could get a chance, Celestia’s front knees buckled before him as she made a graceful bow. He bowed right along with her, playing it off as a sudden stroke of circumstance. They shared a giggle before parting. She retreated up the gold-trimmed stair leading to the helm, and he toward the bow. Tor instructed his guards to stay at the stair.

Sunshine followed Tor, not before she and the princess exchanged glares that could melt a glacier.

Tor made his way along in silence, sensing a maelstrom of frustration boiling from Sunshine. Though he wasn’t aware of the nature of their disagreement, he could not help but grin. The eternal struggle between the wise master and the dutiful student transcends all cultures.

He stopped near the bowsprit and wrapped a talon around a ratline secured on the railing. He turned to Golden Sunshine, who was staring daggers at the horizon.

“You’re not exactly in the best of moods,” Tor observed.

Sunshine blew a stray strand of mane out of her eyes. “Very astute. Did you also know the sky is blue?”

Tor raised a brow. “If you’re going to be like that, I’ll just throw you off the side.”

She scowled at him in mock disbelief. “My word! Here I thought you were civilized!”

He chuckled darkly. “Tis only a facade, I’m afraid.”

Sunshine simply shook her head, sporting the slightest of smirks. Tor was relieved to see her relax.

“You wouldn’t have followed me if it weren’t important, Miss Sunshine.” Tor segued. “Is your  frustration normally so acidic?”

Sunshine leaned against the railing and groaned. “Don’t get me started. She does nothing but hinder any progress I want to make.”

Tor raised a brow, his curiosity piqued. “Progress?”

“I want to look into our history, she holds me back. Get more information on your people, she holds me back.” She scowled. “Learn about her sister” — she paused — “she holds me back.

Tor nodded, his brow crinkling in thought. “Sounds like a lot.”

“Lord Stonetalon mentioned something called the ‘Purge,’” Sunshine replied. “I’ve never heard of it before. He was willing to give me a few more inklings as to what it was, but he was trying to keep it hush-hush.”

Tor sighed sharply, slowly placing a talon on his forehead.

Sunshine continued: “I didn’t know that Nightmare Moon was an actual pony until I goaded him enough about it. We don’t have any solid proof that it was an event back in Equestria — it’s perceived as a myth.”

Gaius, you blabberbeaked buffoon! Tor lamented. “I hope to the Six you didn’t mention his name when asking the Princess about it.”

Looking back to Tor, Sunshine gave an incredulous smirk. “Please, sir. I’m not so quick to spill the beans!” She then grew more serious. “This stuff is sensitive, and could hurt our political relationship. Besides, I actually enjoy visiting” — She trailed off, silently mouthing the foreign word momentarily — “Sargraaf, I’ll have you know.

Tor noted her usage of his people’s name for his land with some surprise. Nice pronunciation, he thought. Rolling the R a little much.  Tor pressed: “What were you told?”

Sunshine tapped a forehoof on the railing as she took a moment to sift through her thoughts. “Nothing too much. It involved stopping some sort of cult of the Nightmare. Apparently it was enough to hurt Equestria, and demand the direct intervention of Celestia — I can only wonder why we don’t know about it back home.”

Brushing a forefinger under his beak, Tor remarked, “There are many things that are forgotten — or hidden — by the people, either by mistake or by purpose. The Purge, well… from our accounts, it nearly caused a terrible crisis in Equestria.”

“If anything, she’d use that point in history to educate us, not keep us in ignorance!”

“Your leader is a very empathetic creature,” Tor explained diplomatically. “She may be doing it for reasons to protect you.” If it is empathy, he mused. Or just to continue to obfuscate.

“Or keep me back still!” Sunshine stamped her tapping hoof down in frustration. “What’s the point of being her student if she doesn’t let me explore?”

Tor shook his head and raised a friendly talon. “Now, now, miss. Maybe when you have the chance, leap on the opportunity to ask her about it.”

“She won’t listen me — I know her too well. I’m prying into her past. Her upsets! Her failures! Maybe she doesn’t want anypony to know where she screwed up?”

“Be that as it may,” Tor said. “I hope you didn’t reveal much about what you know. Or, at the very least, had an excuse to at least know the name.”

“Of course! I just said I saw a book in Lord Stonetalon’s personal library, but had no time to investigate. It had her cutie mark on it and came up with some association.”

“How coincidental — He actually does have a book with her cutie mark on it. It’s part of a multiple volume historical compendium. I believe he pointed it out to me once...”

The mare raised an inquisitive brow. “The Encyclopedia Equannica?”

“I believe?”

“Even better!” Sunshine trotted in place in celebration. Moments after settling down, she shook her head. “It won’t get her off my back, though — Sometimes, I wish I could just run away and do my own research.”

“Perhaps,” Tor replied, raising the finger under his beak matter-of-factly. “When you graduate from the rank of ‘student,’ hmm?”

Sunshine blew another stray strand of hair from her eyes, still with reservations. “We’ll see.”

They looked ahead as the engines roared to life. The crew on deck shouted nautical vernacular, throwing lines from the ship and working instruments on the deck. (Tor found it amusing the crew was spouting such vocabulary on a flying vessel.) As final preparations were in order, Tor looked behind him to see the princess looking from the port side of the vessel with a posture of reserved fascination. As Apollonia began to gently leave the skydock, her technicolored mane refused to bow to the winds.

Tor, on his end, grasped hard on the railing, and tightened his grip on the ratline. He tried to keep his movements subtle, but learned of his failure from Sunshine’s chuckles.

“A gryphon who hates flying?” Sunshine asked, amused.

Tor replied brusquely: “Hush, cur!”

Sunshine playfully chided him with a laugh.

The vessel groaned like an ancient sea beast as she disembarked. The rush of the cool air ruffled the feathers on Tor’s face, eliciting a shiver down his spine. Looking behind him, the Spire slowly revealed its carved grand facade. As they moved, the windows gleamed with sunshine.

The air buzzed with traffic around Apollonia. How anyone navigated these skies was a marvel to Tor. They passed vessels rivaling the size of Celestia’s yacht, and others only a mere fraction of its length. As grand as they were, the prize for elegance could easily be awarded to the Apollonia.

Tor left the bow and slowly made his way to the helm, careful not to look down. Sunshine stayed behind, still amused. While following the ship’s length, Tor noted the beauty and tidiness of the weather deck — the wood was glazed with an everlasting shine, and the gold forever gleaming. It was in stark contrast to Apollonia’s gruff, hard-working crew. Magic, he concluded, kept the vessel pristine.

Tor beckoned his entourage with him as he begrudgingly climbed to the helm. He gazed up to see Celestia concerned.

“I hope you’re doing alright, sir?” She asked.

Tor realized he had a deathgrip on the railing, and eased his talon before he dug his nails in. “Of course I am! There is no other place I’d rather be!” His stomach turned and knotted with every hesitant step. He was afraid to pass out from the stress. Oh, Six above — What I would do for a touch of the earth!

Celestia met him at the top of the stair. Before she could utter a word, Tor gave a dismissive wave.

“Bad leg, Your Majesty,” he lied. “Always acts up with pressure change.” His ears flopped down when he looked behind him, only to see that his epic journey only took ten steps.

“An unfortunate circumstance,” Celestia replied empathetically. “Reaching the Senate chambers must be arduous for you!”

“I would say it was worth the climb, but we have ways around walking.” The Spire elevators certainly do their work, Tor thought. He righted himself on the ground, committing to walk on all fours. “I hope I haven’t been missing much?”

“I’m sure this is all average to you, senator. I’m just admiring your lovely city.” For a moment, Celestia inspected Tor and his guards’ form with a sheepish grin. “My Lord, please There’s no need to be so formal, you can stand tall.”

Tor pushed himself up and brushed his talons off with a quick, light clap. He instinctively rested his talon on his sword’s hilt. The guards joined him, their accoutrements clanking about.

“I’m thankful, Your Majesty.” He was. As much as he hated to admit it, walking around on his talons made his arms sore. He idly rubbed his left arm.

“Now, sir, before we proceed,” Celestia continued. “We’re going to need directions to your Kaloni Plains.”

“Of course, Your Majesty, of course.” Tor looked to one of the guards, gesturing his head to deal with the request. Wordlessly, the agent strode over to the helmspony while Tor and Celestia began walking aft. The second guard slowly trailed behind them.

“I hope that your time here has been satisfactory, Princess?” Tor inquired. His heart pounded as they approached the railing. He focused on Celestia to distract himself.

Celestia nodded. “More so than I imagined, sir.” She took a moment to continue, enamored by the city passing below. Tor followed her gaze to the river Gasper that flowed through the city. Its waters glinted like a ribbon of silk.

“When last I was here, Stoneanchor was nothing but a twinkle in Alana’s eye. A city to rival the old republic capital, she would like to say.” She turned to Tor with a warm smile. “She would be proud to see how it turned out.”

“You knew Alana?” Tor’s ears perked. The stories and myths that surrounded her served to inflate her significance, obscuring the real eagless. What glory! He mused. What glory it is to meet a titan to rival Celestia!

“She was a gentle soul, different than many at her time. Though, a lion when tasked with nation building. War wasn’t exactly her cup of — oh, what is it called —  Melah?”

Tor nodded with a smile. “Yes, Your Majesty. I do not know if you’ve ever had a taste, but, I recommend it in small doses. Quite strong to someone unfamiliar with its properties.”

Celestia chuckled. “I must agree! Whatever’s put into that, I will never know. Though, if I recall correctly, we always had a cup from a certain stock… Gel’ha? Gel’cha?

Gel’tha, Your Majesty,” Tor was honored to hear the name uttered. “The tea garden is still in operation — I can procure a barrel or two for you, if you wish.”

“Perhaps. Considering such time that’s passed…” She sighed in nostalgia. “Alana was quite the gryphon, My Lord. Humble, kind, honorable? To be honest, when your people were just warring states, I had warlords strutting into my throne room with such a bombastic display and nothing to show for it. ‘Strength and honor’ was such a common shout during feasts, I was afraid it would catch on with my own guards.”

“It was so different back then, Your Majesty,” Tor defended. “It was of its time. Very different.”

“Very different, yes! Savage, brutish — Nothing but testosterone and wine. I was happy when Alana bowed to me the moment she walked into my throne room. Respect in my own home!” She smiled fondly. “You’d be surprised how the world was centuries ago. Nothing like how it is now.”

Tor felt backhanded as she described his people — It was common for his own to describe themselves as barbaric, but a foreign dignitary? He couldn’t help but be a little offended. However, he kept those feelings to himself.

“I can only imagine, Your Majesty.” He smiled, to remind himself to be on his best behavior. “The zebra still had an empire bordering our lands, the minotaur had not yet united under the First Strategos — It feels like an age of myth.”

Celestia smiled and nodded. She looked away like she was gazing through time, her eyes darting to and fro at the city moving around them. It was almost as if she were remembering the fields wiped clean. “Yes. The world was much different. Simpler. No steam machines, no cloudless chariots...” She looked back to Tor. “But that was then, and this is now!”

Tor nodded, half-bowing at the same time. “Very much so.”

Apollonia groaned and creaked as she turned in the wind. To orient herself to their destination, she orbited the glimmering Spire. Tor’s thoughts wandered briefly to Gareth. His heart sunk as he mulled through memories from the old province, thinking of their childhoods together. Gallivanting through rice fields, climbing on Gareth’s barnhouse, drinking at the Crooked Crane...

Happiness morphed into pain. His ears flopped back against his skull. Is this what the Veronian Code does to us? Divide us? How did the Confederacy last past the first century?

Tor was mostly ignorant to the power of his privilege. But with his friend’s continued advancement, Tor could finally see how powerful this law was. Gareth may have been conflicted, but Tor could tell that he placed priority on his position before his friendship. Would this happen to the next gryphon he sponsored? Was he making his enemies through kindness? What could he have done better?

Tor sighed, dejected. I failed you, old friend.

As Stoneanchor shrunk in distance, Tor made his way to the helm with the Princess, overlooking the rest of the weather deck. He did what he could to suppress his anguish. Apollonia’s bowsprit pointed towards a gathering of visitors on the plains. Steam bellowed from stacks unseen, and the distinct odor of industry overtook the air.

“Your visit was quite the surprise, Your Majesty,” Tor started, mentally shaking himself out of his funk. “To an outside observer, our performance could be seen as disorganized and unwieldy — Though, it’s far from the truth. We take pride in argument and conflict. The simple act of iron trading can give our discussions an unexpected heat.” He laughed, trying to hide his face behind a talon. “It’s a little embarrassing, but I suppose it gets the job done.”

Celestia looked to him with a subtle smile. “Long ago, my people engaged in such spirited debates. You’re a learned individual, sir, so you aren’t a stranger to the histories; Our old tribes once had a democracy much like your own. We don’t seem to have such a grasp on it as you do with such gusto.”

Tor nodded wordlessly. Celestia continued: “My visit is predicated on Maia’s enthusiastic request.” Wistfully, she looked ahead. “She has such spirit when she speaks of an evolution of the relationship between our nations — There is no fear when she speaks to me about the future. Hope resonates.” She turned back to Tor with an uncertain tone. “It’s almost as if something comes. Something I can’t see.”

Tor attempted assuage her feelings with a lopsided grin. “I’m at a loss, Your Majesty. She certainly has… as some would say, spunk. She has faith in all of us and our future. We are powerful — It’s only natural that we seek solace with those who collaborate in such affairs.”

Celestia nodded, mulling over Tor’s words. Tor wondered if she was internally admonishing him for implying such comparison. Perhaps an ancient being like her had difficulty fathoming the association.

Celestia simply responded, “Let us admire what we have.”

The Apollonia made a sweeping turn around the field, drawing the gaze of many onlookers. The fair itself was contained in a circular palisade, with a central arena and fence line defining quadrants within. Draperies and flags of all kinds fluttered in the wind, advertising itself to the world in a cacophony of color.

The helmspony guided Apollonia to a landing port after a shout from a deckhoof at the fore. The air soon roared with an expulsion of hot steam from the fore of the turbines, the ship groaning with reduced speed. Below deck, Tor could hear the turning of cranks and wheels, and looking overdeck, spied the lowering of the solid steel landing apparatus. An exchange of lines were thrown to gryphons on the ground, and they proceeded to pull Apollonia safely back to earth with a gentle thump.

Tor sighed loudly, feeling like a thousand pounds of armor slid off his shoulders. His skin tingled upon the realization that the ground was much closer to him. Before realizing that he completely unlatched his hidden emotions, he heard a soft giggle from Celestia. His whole body quickly became a furnace. The jig was up.

Celestia took Tor under an enormous wing, taking him by surprise with its size. “After you, milord. It seems like you need to disembark faster than I should.”

Tor bellowed a laugh. “Your Majesty,” he began. “It would pleasure me if we descended together. Your company would be missed if I left the deck on my own.”

“You Razorwings!” She mused. “You know how to sweet-talk! How could I be so foolish to leave without my liaison?”
Tor’s tail grew stiff with the compliment.

With her blessing, they walked down onto the deck together. Tor strode with confidence, happy to be on the earth.

On the main deck, both nation’s guards joined them. Tor’s congressional guard stood a head and a half taller and far more inconspicuous compared to the flashy pony guards. Tor was amused — Was the pomp a way to further cement her power? He could only guess.

Golden Sunshine accompanied Celestia and Tor with a less contemptuous demeanor, keeping to Celestia’s side. Calm as she was, a phantom lighting storm still brewed between them. Sunshine had a long time to go before she knew how to keep her emotions in check. Celestia, however, championed the diplomat’s poise. A stern gaze to her student straightened Sunshine up.

Celestia’s various aides and servants swarmed to the sides, all adorned in royal finery. The abundance of golds and solar logotypes were a little too much for Tor, happy to be wearing earth tones under his black banyan.

The excursion party disembarked with coordinated cadence. A claustrophobic air of formality strangled Tor. He felt the need to retreat to a small pub where he could play Virtues all night. Politics: A tiring profession!

A nagging in the back of his brain tugged at him — Insecurity? Uncertainty? Though, as he did many times before, he straightened himself, pushing aside the left side of his banyan and rested his talon on the gold saber. He drew in a great breath and mentally laid the bricks in line.

You are a dignitary of the great Confederacy of the Gryphons, Tor! Just because you’re around the leader of the most influential nation on the Six’s Globe doesn’t change a thing. He felt like his words fell short, but if he got this far, it’ll be just like that week in Prance.

Ah, those accents…

A small crowd, mostly the wealthy and extravagant, gathered at the end of the gangway, anxious for a peek at Princess Celestia. They ooh’d and ahh’d at her, beguiled by her exotic alicorn appearance. Before long, the guards, led by the blue-plumed commander, carved a path for the group to follow, causing the crowd to disperse. But Celestia was a subject hot on their tongues, and her name echoed around them.

The guards kept a solid perimeter in check as they proceeded. Passing under the shadow of each airship, there was no mistake to the extravagance laid on the hulls. Beautiful inlays of gold and brass lined keels and bows, woven in organic, sinuous patterns, mimicking waves of sea and contrails in sky. Attendants dutifully buffed these vessels with the unmistakable harsh scent of polish, allowing their ships to flaunt their beauty.

Tor smirked. But they were not Apollonia.

Away from the port stood a broad, oaken archway with more fluttering flags. Under it stood a tall, imposing zebra, followed by a group of aides. He was dressed in a red velvet justaucorps, a popular design worn by denizens of Stoneanchor’s salons, stitched to fit his muscular barrel. As they approached, he stepped out from under the shade to reveal the Paisley brocade spread across the garment. A zebra-sized sword hung from his midsection, its crossguard made of steel and its scabbard adorned with bands of lapis lazuli.

“Your Majesty,” the zebra announced. As he bowed, his loosely tied cravat bounced with his motion. The rest of his group bowed as well. “I am Corus Ren, master of ceremonies.” As he rose, he turned his head to Tor, almost surprised. “And My Lord? Apologies, I was expecting the Consul.”

Tor rose a talon gently, casually dismissing the surprise. “She is indisposed, currently. A last minute change. Don’t let it diminish your exhibition, however. I believe I’m speaking for both of us” — He gestured to Celestia —  “by saying that we are pleased to be in attendance.” Celestia nodded with a matronly smile, letting Tor take the lead.

“Then, please, my esteemed guests — the exhibition awaits.” He outstretched a foreleg of invitation, and a smile only fit for a merchant plastered across his muzzle.

As Tor and Celestia walked past him, Ren accompanied. He couldn’t keep his wandering eyes from Celestia’s visage. “We have been awaiting your appearance all day, Your Majesty.” He paused momentarily, as if remembering to breathe, and returned his eyes to Tor. “And present company, naturally.”

Before even Tor could place a quip, he was swiftly beaten by Golden Sunshine with a succinct “Of course,” laden with sarcasm.

As they continued into opening court of the exhibition, Tor couldn’t help but be reminded of the zebra’s name. Corus Ren, a more gryphon name than zebra, he realized. But it’s origin? It couldn’t be because of —

“The pamphlet!” He exclaimed. The entourage peered at Tor, alarmed by his sudden outburst.

“The pamphlet?” Celestia asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Tor replied. “Our host is an inventor himself — are you not, mister Ren?” He mused with a small grin — he expected one of his guards to magically procure the advert Gawdyna gave him prior. “You were toting some sort of… Oh, it looked like a crossbow without it’s laithe.”

Ren guffawed, his laughter echoing into the court. His assistants seemed to be contractually obligated to match Ren’s as they augmented his laughter. “Now, that’s a line I’ve not heard before! Say, My Lord — you haven’t happened to have dabbled in advertising?”

Tor smirked in response, albeit with reservation to Ren’s exaggerated jocularity.

Ren continued without Tor’s reply. “Yes, My Lord. I am the very same Corus Ren, maker of the revolution of combat. With the power that will be revealed here, the Confederacy, and — may I even say, Equestria — will be made a far safer place after my demonstration today.”

He slid his eyes to Celestia. “You will be there, I hope?”

Celestia nodded gracefully, an incredulous grin hiding behind sincerity. “I am only a guest here, but, I will make it a point to attend. Are we not here to gaze upon the next revolutions of the world? You’re but a step forward, mister Ren.”
Tor smirked. And as if only Razorwings talked sweet!

Realizing that Celestia was addressing him directly, Ren barely stifled a schoolboy giggle. “You flatter me, Your Majesty!” He bowed with flair, or, at least, with as much flair a quadruped could possibly perform. “You come to the right place to gaze upon the future. Come! Let us proceed!”

As the group resumed, Celestia leaned over to Tor, whispering, “Quite the performer, no?”

Tor grunted unceremoniously. “Huckster, more like.” They shared a chuckle.

They began a grand tour past many spectacles: A demonstration of a speaking telegraph, an updated design of the difference engine, models of aircraft without balloons, improved models of locomotives, industrial processes, and many more.

The morning waned into the afternoon, sucking time away. Over the course of their tour, a particular attraction took Tor’s attention.

Every time he would pass it, he would be fixated on what was known as a crawler. A four-wheeled, motorized carriage, powered with what looked like a miniature locomotive engine.

What a machine! Tor marvelled. It was a basic in this state, only a frame and an internal combustion engine, but the possibilities, he knew were there. It also demonstrated to him a viable alternative to being in an airship.

“I want one of these,” Tor spoke aloud, breaking himself from the cycle of thought. His talon stroked one of the wheels, thick and studded with cartoonishly large steel hobnails for traction. He mused this could have served him well many times on the frontier. A advertisement behind the machine further fueled his imagination, illustrating an armored gryphon onboard with an adventurous smile on his face.

He looked to Celestia briefly, her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Contemplative. Perhaps… unsure?

“That makes one of us,” Celestia noted after a moment.  She turned back to Tor, grinning to deflect her pensiveness. “Were I to employ this machine, I feel like I would scare my subjects, and not to mention the racket it would cause in Canterlot!”

“But, wouldn’t you like to give your royal carriage pullers a break every-so often?” Tor asked. Celestia seemed pensive, shrugging idly in response.

“They find the job to be a prestigious one,” she explained, idly gesturing with a wingtip. “Were I to replace them, they would likely consider it a shame. I want all of my ponies to have a good life. Why would I want to cause them hardship when all they want is happiness?” She smiled softly. “I love my subjects as if they were my own children; I want what’s best for them.”

Tor nodded, his thoughts wandering to his prior discussion with Golden Sunshine: Rights: What use are they if there is no possible definition?

His suspicion of Celestia’s words drew his attention from the crawler. If your ruler wants what’s best for you, what stops them from convincing you that what you don’t want is what you want? It took gryphons fifteen bloody years to come to the conclusion that it isn’t what your rulers determine as the good, but the individual. But, he concluded, that is another culture. A different way of life. He is no monarch — arguably a benevolent oligarch — and also not a pony.

Tor looked to the equine guards, who were steadfast maintaining the perimeter. This was probably a simple life for them, he thought.

Since when was the last time Celestia declared war? Four centuries ago? These guardsponies are all bark, no bite. He chuckled to himself. Lest we have someone like Golden Sunshine here rock the boat, these guards will never draw blood. It was a moot even consider anything of the sort — The world revered the matron Celestia. There was nothing harder than trying to flip a mountain on to its tip, and Celestia was that mountain.

“My Lord,” a little voice squeaked. He looked down to see Golden Sunshine looking up to him. “You’re occupied.” She pointed him towards the rest of the group, where Ren beckoned them further into the exhibition. Ren had taken Celestia’s ear and began to talk a storm into it, Celestia enraptured by his orations about the achievements around them.

Sunshine had a notepad hovering in front of her, suspended in her magic. Sketches and notes adorned the pages. She had been documenting a plethora of the machines here, perhaps as a way to bring a few back home for study.

Tor nodded, waving the cobwebs out of his mind. “I’m sorry, Miss Sunshine. I don’t know what struck me.”

“It looked like you were at first fancying the prospect of motorized carriages, and then our guards.” She threw him a lopsided smile. “I don’t know which is more interesting.”

“You’re funny,” Tor said bluntly. He continued forward to join the rest of the group. “I’m just… musing, is all.”

“There’s no reason why you can’t admit your interest in the best of the royal guard. They can be very pretty.” Sunshine twisted her head to make eyes at a brown colt marching in front of them. “Especially you, hello…”

Tor grunted in response. “Right,” he noted under his breath. “Pretty. That’s the perfect word I’d use for them.”

“What do you mean?” Sunshine asked.

Tor sighed. “I mean that your guards are trinkets.”

Sunshine furrowed her brow. “They’re the best in the world. Of all the creatures to underestimate them, you were the last in my mind.”

“Is that so?” Tor challenged, keeping his voice below the din of the crowd. “Standing around to make your kind the most civilized? The most powerful?”

“Need I remind you that we, at least, are powerful?” Sunshine, too, joined in his quieted tone. “Example: Fifty years ago, it was Equestria that helped break the siege at Carkun and helped you in your time of need. You were on the brink of collapse.”

Tor chuckled mockingly. “Right — And you so expertly forget it was a three month siege that softened the walls? That after those months of begging Celestia help from the minotaur invasions did she send but a single battalion of her gold-clad soldiers?” He waved at Sunshine dismissively. “More truths forbidden, I see.”

“They saved the day,” Sunshine rebuked, her scowl softening to Tor’s words. “They broke the walls and captured the strategos Nika.”

“It was we and our zebra allies who pursued Nika. It was we who were raided by Nika for three years. It was we who encircled Nika — It was she” — He thrust an accusing thumb at Celestia —“who took the mantle of victory for Nika’s defeat.” He exhaled sharply. “How could you not respect her? She’s the embodiment of grace and power.”

Tor then opted to evoke Sunshine’s previous disagreements with Celestia: “This under-taloned victory only helps solidify her place in the world — why be anchored by your failures when you can be surrounded by your conquests?”

“You are too presumptuous,” Sunshine replied. Though, it was as if she too couldn’t be bothered to believe it.

“One can hope,” Tor stated. Sunshine opened her mouth to address his statement, but she decided to stay silent. The intense stare that she gave Tor subsided, only for her be pensive. She turned away from him to look back at the guard she pointed out prior.

The group approached an archway leading into another portion of the exhibition, with the brown stallion keeping vigil. After they were clear to pass through, the guard bowed to Celestia with an elegance that Tor compared to a circus clown. He expected the guard to honk his nose and dance about after Celestia nodded to him, as if giving evaluation for the performance.

Tor grimaced. He didn’t hide it from Sunshine.

She is a leader, not a god, he thought. She is an equine, only establishing her place upon this earth by the horn on her head and the wings on her sides. He looked to his person, his eyes fixated on the golden basket hilt that glittered on his side. He too found himself in a hierarchy labelled by uncommon features.

He wrapped his wings around himself, uncomfortable in his realization. He turned his head to avoid the space it occupied, only to see one of his guards standing stalwart. He stood not on his hind legs, but on all fours. Tor turned again to see his other escort. He balled a fist under his makeshift feathery cloak, a scowl curling itself upon his brow. His eyes shifted to the dirt below him. Am I simply a prince by another name?

A shiver struck Tor and creeped down to his gut, causing his tail to curl under his legs. He resisted the urge to shroud his face behind his wings in shame. But, he rubbed his face to hide his frown, holding his forehead above his furrowed brow.

However, he would shelf his shame momentarily; As the group moved back into the sunlight, he noticed a sudden flash. He looked above his talon and noticed the flash from a silk banyan, bathing the alabaster Celestia in blue. A recognized a gryphon wearing it, but — It seems like we have a guest unaccounted for. He turned to Golden Sunshine, who was immersed in her notes.

“Miss Sunshine,” Tor called. She looked up to him wordlessly. “Would you come with me? We have a task.”

Sunshine raised a brow. “A task?”

Tor gestured to the gryphon ahead of them. “She shouldn’t be here. I would have been told otherwise. I need you to take Celestia’s attention away from her while I take the gryphon’s.”

Sunshine gazed at the gryphon in question. “What’s the problem? She just looks like an official.”

“I…” Tor hesitated, not wanting to go in depth about how it’s the senate’s position to deal with diplomacy. Nor how local politics is becoming more and more dangerous the longer he breathes. “Let’s just say we gryphons are particular about who joins us in official functions. Guests would be wise to make themselves known to the host — particularly, me.”

Sunshine mulled it over briefly. “Okay,” she agreed, with a determined look. “Let’s move.”

They squeezed through, excusing themselves as they bumped past dignitaries. Tor maneuvered himself next to the gryphon in blue while Sunshine did the same next to Celestia. Celestia jubilantly welcomed her student with a warm smile. Tor’s gryphon was less welcoming, barely containing disgust in her greeting to him.

It took a moment for Celestia to be immersed in her student’s inquiries, but Sunshine was able to pull her from the gathering, even able to capture Ren’s attention. Tor inspected the gryphon’s person, recognizing a silver hilt and saber; it was as he expected, a member of the forum. He also spied that same crossbow-like weapon hanging from a holster.

“You are brave, Decia. Diplomacy is the responsibility of the Senate,” Tor warned. “What are you doing here?”

She harrumphed in response. “We were simply checking up on the princess. Hoping she is well accommodated.”

Tor growled faintly. “How you dishonor yourself with such a violation, forumite.”

“Ironic, considering you set the precedent.” She smiled slyly.

Tor nearly laughed. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, snake.”

“And you lash an insult? Gareth was true about your arrogance.”

Tor’s neckfeathers stuck up, and his ears perked. “He sent you?” As if betrayal could not have any harder a sting!

“He advised,” Decia quipped, her smile growing like Tor’s irritation. “But, it was not he who initiated an order.”

She would not be foolish to reveal who did. The conspiracy would only endanger her and her allies’ position. Tor’s heart began to beat a little faster, his frustration only building. The more he stood next to Decia, the more he felt like drawing his blade.

“The sooner you depart,” Tor continued. “The happier I will be.”

“Our peace has been given to the princess, but I think that my continued cooperation with you will be of benefit to one of us,” Decia concluded. She chided with another smirk. “Your impatience is most unbecoming of you, My Lord.”

Tor exhaled in frustration. Her impudence had not eased his conscience, but considering what he and his own were now open to doing, this move should have been expected.

“Fine,” Tor acquiesced. “But you will keep your distance henceforth. I don’t want your stench to spoil what show Corus Ren has in mind for the Princess.”

The party began to walk into the shadow of a makeshift arena that served as the center stage of the whole exhibition. Colorful advertisements on banners hung from the top of the rafters, gently fluttering in the breeze. Tor noticed that the one soon to come, hosted by Ren, obscured the identity of his invention, only showing an outline of the object. Beneath it, in golden lettering, a line proclaimed: “Future of Sparkpowder.

Tor assumed this was merely a way to launch fireworks.

“Oh, I suppose,” Decia reluctantly agreed. A smug smile still planted on her beak. “Let you feel so superior and whatnot — It’s only natural for a tiercel in your place, is it not?”

Were this another time I would kill you where you stand, Tor grimaced. Before he could continue to comment to his opponent, Ren began to chime towards the group as a whole.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, but I only have a small box for the Princess and her select entourage.” He looked to Tor directly. “My Lord? You are expected up here as well.” Tor nodded, not before giving Dacia a side glance. She simply smiled and slid into the crowd separating from the main group.

Ren’s enthusiasm was to the point of detonation while led the entourage up a flight of steps. Not as able to accommodate the plethora of equine officials, there was enough for Tor, Celestia and Sunshine, alongside a few of the Princess’ aides. It was cozy, with seats sitting atop a silk rug. Wine and water stood chilled for their enjoyment. They took their seats, Celestia in the center of the trio, with Tor and Sunshine flanking her.

“To have you here is but the highest honor, Your Majesty,” Ren said, speaking above the growing din of the crowd. “As a preface, it is your people who have allowed for the impetus of this achievement. One of my closest partners on this project was, coincidentally, of the royal fireworks corps.”

Celestia squinted at him, reacting to a fact that Ren probably should have obscured. “Is that so?” She asked, barely hiding her scrutiny. “I have met many members of the corps, perhaps I could have a chance to meet this pony?” Menace hugged her inflections. Tor was unsure if Ren recognized it, or didn’t care.

Ren grew somber. “I apologize, Your Majesty. Star Flurry was put to rest two years into our experiments. A mixture of unstable sparkpowder caused his untimely demise. It was a miracle that we shared our calculations, or else this wouldn’t be possible! If anything, this was the culmination of his brilliance.” He flashed back to a satisfied grin.

Celestia returned her own, masking her enmity. “Indeed, mister Ren. I await what your demonstration shows us.”

“You will not be disappointed.” Ren looked down to the arena, the crowd growing. “But it seems that I am going to be needed soon, Your Majesty. I can’t wait to hear what you think after the demonstration!” Bowing swiftly, he made his way down back the way the group came up, his hooves clip-clopping against the wood deck.

The trio sat in silence, the noise of the crowd’s chatter filling the void. Tor felt a terrible awkwardness resonate as Celestia’s eyes intensely followed Ren down the steps. Tor nearly reached for the wine before Golden Sunshine piped up.

“Princess Celestia,” she began. “I have to appreciate the” — She paused momentarily to find a word — “adeptness of our hosts. They possess deftness to create from, what an outside observer would find nonsense, to an unheard of combination.”

Celestia was silent, hesitant. She let the silence grow pregnant as she crafted a response. “I agree, my student,” she concluded after too long. “I, too, am surprised at all times to see the Confederacy’s ingenuity in the face of such curious combinations.” She turned to Tor, who did not give him a look of disappointment, but of concern.

What are you doing? She seemed to ask. You step in places you aren’t meant to explore.

Tor could do nothing but shrug. His eyes conveyed wordlessly: Such is the way of ingenuity, Your Majesty.

Tor spied Ren out in the center of the field, and with him, a few gryphons. One, dressed in a red outfit as flamboyant as Ren’s. The other two were plain-clothed, one pulling a box from a cart. The other was holding a long, thin crate with it’s top removed. Straw packing material stuck out of the interior haphazardly. What was inside was placed delicately on a table that was sitting prior to the presenters’ appearance.

From this angle, Tor saw the crossbows without laithes. In fact, a number of them — One without a stock, a talonheld weapon. One with what could be described as the head of a pike shoved into its opening. A third as is, without any other additional trinkets.

What was different was the length of these weapons: The flight groove — or at least, what would be the flight groove — was elongated to a point that it would be at the middle of the chest, were he to stand with it. He had seen siege crossbows much longer than that, but these looked so much lighter and were so much thinner. But, he wondered, how would it even function?

And goodness, there’s not even a magazine!

At this point, Tor had an incredulous smirk on his face. Some marvel! He turned to Celestia, losing his incredulity. Her visage was at the point of cracking into a thousand pieces. Her gaze was stony and intense — were she able to completely obliterate the world at this very moment, she would. Looking past Celestia, Tor’s look of bewilderment was shared by Golden Sunshine. Their eyes met, and a mutual confusion was understood. He shrugged slightly. Might as well let all alone and focus on the demonstration.

Ren, in all the flash and spectacle he could afford, approached the crowd and delivered a dramatic bow.

“Greetings and salutations to my esteemed guests, colleagues and investors!” A small cheer rang out from the crowd, causing Ren to smile wider. “It is my greatest pleasure to introduce to you today, perhaps, one of the finest inventions here at my exhibition, designed by myself, Corus Ren, my esteemed partner Sovo Tann, and, our long-passed friend, Star Flurry, whom this demonstration is dedicated to.”

A plain-clothes gryphon came to the fore and held aloft the weapon. Ren announced: “I come to introduce to the rest of the world the coming apex of modern combat: The firearm!”

On queue, the other plain-clothes gryphon assistant put a wick to a fuse, and within a few moments, let loose a small display of fireworks. They burst and detonated with whimsical fury, which elicited an applause from the audience. Tor sat merely amused. Enough with the foolishness, he thought. If the forum likes to have firework shooters, fine. They can have them!

Ren continued, dropping into a tale about how long spears and swords dominated the field of battle, and other such stories that Tor, with all of his might, could not be bothered to focus on. Not only did Ren get the date of the Battle of Sorko’s Rift wrong, but even got the time of day. And the length of a pike is most certainly not over 12 meters long! Tor rolled his eyes.

“But I only say this for a reason of utmost relevancy,” Ren concluded after many minutes of recollection. “The Marquess of Blackstone would have survived were she not surrounded by a pike-and-bolt tercio formation, but perhaps one that involved more” — he paused for dramatic effect — “firepower.” A small groan spread across the audience, accompanied by a wry chuckle from Ren.

“But enough of my anecdotes, friends,” he continued. “History is for another time — such as now! Allow us to give you an eye for what formulates the combination of this device!”

Without hesitation, his plain-clothes assistants administered baubles to the audience. They moved about the crowd, eventually passing to Tor. As each item passed, Ren had an explanation.

First: a conical lead slug. The top of it reminded Tor of a closed beak. It was an elongated, thick thing, the length of a talon tip to the first knuckle. Grooves were carved into the side. On its bottom was a concave, tipped in metal, said to expand upon detonation of sparkpowder.

Second to be passed about was bag, and inside, tiny brass cylinders. Described to be placed on the nipple, they were caps filled with a type of fulminate. Tor was casually familiar with fulminate — they went into the whizz-bangers he played with as a child. His recollection was confirmed after Sovo attached one of these caps to the firearm and set it off. It’s crisp snap elicited an excited fright of giggles from those closest to the field.

Celestia sighed, and she shook her head. Tor saw her close her eyes, with a concerned scowl on her brow. She whispered a dour “Oh, no,” under her breath. Tor scowled too, afraid to ask her the issue.

Finishing up the round of introductions came a paper package, a cartridge, containing a slug and powder. The grains ground beneath the pressure of Tor’s fingers. He was tempted to pocket it, for further inspection. Golden Sunshine was carefully noting these items.

“This is a project that has lasted us more than a decade’s worth of testing,” Ren announced. “We referred to aeronautical studies, physics, chemistry of all kinds! In fact, my friend here, Sovo, was a long time aeronautical engineer with the Commercial Air Corps — His in-depth design of the slugs you’re passing about came after his devious design. Before, it was considered to use solid balls, but, what a lack of aerodynamic insight!” He looked to Sovo and they exchanged a rigorous guffaw.

“Aye,” Sovo agreed, his sing-song accent coming to the fore. “‘Twas a bit of a goof when yer balls could barely get past a fifty meter mark. But these slugs? Alongside the spiraling inside of the barrel, could easily exceed four hundred meters for accuracy. Much greater effective range than that of a Confederate crossbow!” This gained Tor’s attention. Having been a skirmisher in the service, he was familiar with the standard 150. 200 if you were an excellent shot.  But, 400? That seemed impossible.

“But we are here to demonstrate something, and thus” — Ren gestured to one of the plain-clothes gryphons, who walked over to the box that was pulled from the cart — “we shall deliver.”

The assistant unlatched the box’s locks, causing the container to collapse. A gasp jumped from the crowd as an anxiety swept over it; It was a dummy adorned in minotaur armor. It’s cuirass was curved with mock musculature, embossed with pictures of mino legends and debossed with white meanders across the edges. Hanging below was an armored skirt sporting the same designs. On the shoulders and around the waist hung menacingly bright red pteruges.

A shiver shook through Tor. Memories of a long, old war haunted his mind. Though crude compared to the armors of the Confederate military, the minotaur made up what in lacked in strength. A pike could barely pierce it, and a sword was rebuffed with ease. Upon closer inspection, Tor recognized this armor as that of a commander’s — A distant roar echoed, and the glint of an axe briefly flashed his vision. He tried to steady his breathing. One. Two, he mentally recited. One. Two.

Never thought I’d see this armor again.

“Quite a formidable piece of equipment, eaglesses and tiercels,” Ren resumed. “Some here, no doubt, have seen terrors that can be contained within this legendary piece of metal.” His tone grew serious. “My compatriots and I had this marvel in mind for our defenders on the frontier. Too long have our blades bounced off of minotaur breastplates. Too long have our colonies been smashed by the horde. After today, we begin the final push to secure our ancient homeland.” He stood back, beckoning his compatriot to begin the demonstration.

Sovo grabbed a firearm from the table. Ren described the loading process as it occurred.

Sovo started by pulling up on a large, metal crank, which swung in an arc from front to back. It caused the block to emerge from the area described as the receiver. It stood perpendicular to the rest of the weapon. With no trouble, Sovo ripped through the paper cartridge and stuffed its contents in. Once that was all said and done, he procured a dowel and stuffed the whole combination down. He finished by popping a cap on the nipple on the underside of the block. He pushed the block back into the rest of the weapon, cocked the underside hammer, and considered it loaded.

The process took mere seconds. It was unlike using a windlass, which could take more than half a minute to load. Like a crossbow user, Sovo stood at attention, waiting for command. He looked to Ren, who beamed brighter than the sun. Tor was familiar with the procedure for the crossbow: Ren raised his arm, citing “present.” The gryphon began his aim. Instead of the verb “release,” Ren opted for another word, a noun.

Simply: “Fire.”

A moment after the command was loosened, a fire flashed across the audience, an earthquake shook the world, a lion roared, and a terrible snap lanced through the air. The whole audience shrieked in terror as this monstrosity bellowed like an ancient dragon. Some took cover behind the stands, stricken with fear. Others covered their ears, their eyes. Many were dumbstruck by what fowl expulsions this gun had.

The twinge of battle momentarily washed over Tor: his heart raced at a pace he was all too familiar with, his talons quivered under the power. His feathers ruffled stiff. His lungs took in what felt like hundreds of volumes of air. His ears shrieked like banshees in his skull.

But the evidence of the terror of this demonstration was half-formed in its delivery: A form, once standing tall with gleaming metals and greased leathers, now stood dilapidated and mangled. An ugly, burnt hole pierced through the front of the plate, singing the metal. But what resulted on the inverse side was more than enough to convince Tor of the power of powder: The exit of the round created an extensive wound, the plate blasted open, as if an animal tore through the belly to extract its innards — Metal shards lined the range behind it, and in an ethereal dance, cloth and straw lingered in the air, the last whispers of the detonation echoing in the distance.

This was a revolution, Tor realized, looking at a horrified Celestia — A revolution to topple the world.