Rarity leaned in close to the mirror hanging on the wall, her horn tinkling softly, and tugged at her eyelashes with precise, measured motions. She paused to dip the applicator wand back into the tube before turning her attention to her other eye, an aimless hum drifting from her lips as she—
A resounding boom rocked the room, causing the mirror, the dresser, the bed and everything else not nailed down to rattle in sympathy. The little wand jerked at her eyelashes as she jumped in alarm, and she let out a frustrated scream as her eye watered in pain. She blinked furiously, reaching a hoof out to steady the mirror before it fell off the wall again and developed another crack.
After a couple seconds, the room fell still once more. Rarity closed her eyes, her tail lashing side to side, and took a deep breath.
Accursed Frieslanders and their giant cannons. It wasn’t the first time she had experienced the aftershock of their firing; it wasn’t even the first time that day. It had been two days since her arrival in the city, and every day the cannons’ reports would thunder across the city with increasing frequency. Each time she would stiffen, her pulse quickening at the unexpected shockwave that rocked the city, and then wonder how many ponies had just died, and whether she could have done something different to save them. It made her want to scream.
Oh, just one couldn’t hurt. She turned to the bed and stuffed her face into the pillows, stomping her hooves against the thin rug on the floor and letting out a frustrated shriek.
She came up for air perhaps half a minute later, sucking in a deep breath and feeling much better. She jumped at a knock at the door, followed by Whitehorn’s muffled voice.
“Are you ready, Countess? We’re expected in a half hour.”
“Just a minute, darling!” she called. “I’ll be right out!”
She turned back to the mirror, adjusting its place on the wall with a touch of magic. She was dressed to impress in a pale blue couture, accented with white lace and a shawl of embroidered royal purple that hung almost to her knees. She had forgone a hat, opting instead to let her mane hang free in an intricate braid that hung down one side of her neck, and wore a matching set of purple shoes she had picked up at a local cobbler. The mascara wand dipped in and out, applying the finishing touches to her makeup. She would only have one chance to give Governor Rhea a good first impression, and the ponies outside the walls couldn’t afford any mistakes on her part.
Finally satisfied with her appearance, Rarity strutted out of the little room and squeezed into the equally small hallway outside. Her brow furrowed with consternation as she tugged her dress in to keep it from scraping up against the stone walls. Captain Piaffe’s home, quaint thought it was, was far too small to host the entire diplomatic party in comfort, and she was beginning to wonder if the selection was intentional. Had they been housed there truly out of respect to tradition, or was it a subtle message from the Governor? We don’t want you here.
Either way, it would take more than sharing a single-sized bed with Pinkie Pie to deter her from her quest.
The fire in the hearth crackled merrily as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Whitehorn and Pinkie were seated around the table, the former smartly dressed in an orange vest and white shirt with rolled up sleeves and the latter wearing a polka-dotted blue and yellow bowtie. Pontius was seated in front of the wooden display case with a glass of dark liquid cradled in one hoof. All three of them were listening with varied levels of interest as Piaffe gestured towards the contents.
“Here we have my grandpapa Capriole’s commission, bought with the funds from selling his shop. And here, this medal here—” she pointed to a badge with the image of a tower engraved into the blue-tinted surface “—was given to him after he caught a group of baron spies in the midst of opening the eastern gatehouse. He told my sister and I the story many times. It was a dark night, and a fierce rainstorm had just passed up the coast, so—”
Rarity cleared her throat, drawing the room’s attention. She offered up a prim smile. “I do believe we should be leaving, dears.”
Piaffe looked up at her with wide eyes, her mouth twisting into a coy grin. She turned to nudge at Pontius with one of her hind legs. “Such a lucky stallion you are! I don’t know how you manage to sleep at nights without her in your bed.”
Pontius blanched, his glass slamming down onto the table as he choked. Pinkie Pie snickered into her hoof while Rarity turned to frown sharply at Piaffe.
“That is absolutely none of your business!” she snapped.
“You’ll have to excuse me, dearheart.” Piaffe dipped her head, the grin staying on her face as she spoke. “I’ve been known to forget myself around beautiful mares.”
“Well, you would do well to learn to remember yourself!” Rarity stalked towards the front door with an indignant “hmph!” before opening it with her magic. “I will be waiting outside!”
She didn’t have to wait long before Pinkie bounced out to join her, followed shortly by Whitehorn and Pontius. His nostrils flared as he glowered back at Captain Piaffe, who took one last sip from a small flask in her hooves before slipping it into her coat and striding briskly down the street.
“Come along then, all,” she called back at them. “It’s a short walk, but a pleasant one!”
They followed in their usual order, with the two bluecoats that had been stationed outside the house falling in behind them. Rarity came up to Pontius’ side, keeping her voice low so Piaffe wouldn’t overhear. “Are you well, darling?”
“I don’t like her,” he said, glaring at the back of Piaffe’s head. “She keeps botherin’ me, askin’ why ye don’t sleep with me.”
“O-oh.” Rarity looked away, watching the passing scenery. They passed under the arch of an old stone gatehouse, its doors forever open. The wall it had once guarded was long gone now, its stones having been pilfered to serve the needs of the ever-expanding city. “You shouldn’t pay her any heed.”
“How can I not?” Pontius hissed. “She keeps makin’ eyes at ye, and yer supposed to be my wife!”
“Pontius, dear, you don’t need to be jealous on my part.” Rarity offered him a small smile. It was somewhat endearing to see him being protective of her in this way, but it was best she nip it in the bud. “Our arrangement is purely political.”
He took a deep breath, his lips set into a thin frown. After a few seconds he dipped his head into a terse nod. “Aye. Political.”
Rarity couldn’t help but grimace at the clear signs of distress. She had no fantasies of any romance with Pontius, but she didn’t like seeing him so disturbed.
The party came out into a wide, circular courtyard, with ponies milling in every direction as they crossed from one street to another. A towering old cathedral dominated one side, the silver crescent moons on each face of its bell towers announcing its allegiance to Princess Luna. Cafes and restaurants lined the plaza, crisp new brick buildings standing side-by-side squat old stone, each competing with its neighbors for passing hoof traffic. The middle of the courtyard was occupied by a haphazard array of colorful stalls, each merchant shouting to be heard over the others while young colts and fillies attempted to drag passing ponies towards the wares of their employers. Piaffe paused, glancing around the courtyard before cutting a path along one edge.
An old, square stone tower sat on the corner of one of the wide avenues that led into the plaza, contrasting sharply with the restaurant next to it. A squad of bluecoats filed out of the tower as they approached, dipping their heads in greeting to Piaffe before picking up into a trot, and she offered them a warm smile in return.
The governor’s palace waited at the end of the avenue, guarded by a tall metal fence and a thick wall of topiary. A pair of soldiers stood watch by the open gate, their hooves clicking together in salute as Captain Piaffe approached.
“Oh, you know you don’t have to do that for me, colts,” she said. She nodded towards Rarity’s party. “Diplomats here for the governor, unless she’s changed her mind?”
“No, ma’am.” One of the guards shook his head, keeping his eyes forward.
“Exquisite. Come along then, dearhearts!”
The palace was brick, and smaller than Titus’ manse. A gently curving paved path wound between the bushes and the trees, which were beginning to lose their leaves in the chill of autumn. A few steps led up to a small circular landing shaded by a balcony on the second floor, and Piaffe ascended the stairs with a cheery hum before raising a hoof and knocking on the polished wooden door.
The door swung open, revealing a stone-faced pegasus stallion wearing a simple shirt and vest. He bowed low, stepping aside to beckon them in, and Piaffe beckoned with a flick of her tail before leading the party inside.
Rarity let out a soft gasp as she crossed over the threshold, a hoof rising to her chest. The interior was decorated in pleasing shades of cool blue and white, with a marble fountain surrounded by a bed of vibrant flowers serving as the circular foyer’s centerpiece. A circle of evenly spaced columns lined the room, wrapped in the tight embrace of vines that displayed both blooming flowers and threatening thorns. An earth mare was stooped down over the flower bed as they entered, a spade held in her muzzle and her hooves protected by thick canvas boots, and Rarity watched as she gently placed a young sapling into place before pushing the soil in around it with her hooves.
“Sweet Celestia,” she said, taking it all in with wide eyes. “How marvelous!”
Piaffe glanced back at her with an amused smirk. “Impressed, love? I imagine you don’t see anything like this out in the baronlands.”
Pontius snorted. “We have no need fer such wasteful follies in the baronlands.”
Pinkie bounced inside with an excited squeal, her wheels clattering loudly behind her. “This place looks amazing! Rarity, isn’t your birthday coming up? Imagine a party in here! Oh oh, we could fill the fountain with chocolate!”
Piaffe’s smirk turned into a warm smile. “Do you know, Pinkie, I think you’re my favorite one of this bunch. What would you say to some drinks out on the town later tonight?”
“Duh! I would say yes oh my gosh that sounds like so much fun you’ve got to show me all your favorite places!”
“Fillies, please.” Whitehorn gestured onwards with a hoof. “Let’s not get too distracted.”
“The Governor certainly has an eye for beauty,” Rarity said as Piaffe led them down a hall divided by a long, narrow bed of flowers. And if we’re lucky, perhaps she’ll have an appreciation for diplomacy as well.
The hall ended in tall, arched double doors decorated with carvings of blossoming vines, their flowers painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. One door hung ajar, and Piaffe pushed it open further, beckoning inside with an exaggerated flourish.
Pontius led the way as they each filed over the threshold and into an open room decorated with a variety of potted plants, paintings, and large cushions. A wide, circular table rested in the middle, bearing platters of cookies, clear bottles of wine, and glasses to drink from. Colorful sunlight streamed in through tall stained-glass windows, providing clear sight of the garden outside and silhouetting the three ponies that were waiting within.
Piaffe had informed them as to proper etiquette the day before. Rarity and Pontius stood side-by-side in the center of the room, their eyes lowered in respect. Pinkie bounced to a stop behind them, bowing low to the ground with a quiet giggle.
Whitehorn cleared his throat as he stepped ahead. “Presenting Sir Pontius, heir to the Duchy of Canterthusia, and his wife, Countess Rarity, Last Lady of Equestria.” He bowed as he stepped back to join Pinkie at the back of the group, and Rarity and Pontius both looked up to meet the judging gaze of the earth mare sitting in the middle of the waiting trio.
“Welcome to my home, Sir Pontius and Countess Rarity. I am Governor Rhea.” Her voice was quiet, but carried a firmness that indicated an old familiarity with authority. She wore a simple yellow dress decorated with a sash of pastel flowers that matched nicely with her soft yellow coat and curling pink mane, and she held a glass of white wine in one hoof. With her free hoof she gestured first to the heavyset, suited unicorn stallion on her right and then to the older pegasus mare on her left. “This is Mister Robber Baron, speaker for the trade guilds of Friesland, and Lady Hemlock, speaker for my cousin, Duchess Nettlekiss.” She paused to extend the wine glass towards the table before her, causing the liquid inside to swirl about and catch the light. “Pour them some drinks, Captain.”
“Yes, Governor.” Captain Piaffe snapped off a salute so crisp and respectful that Rarity did a brief double take, momentarily wondering if some other mare had replaced her. Piaffe wasted no time in fetching a pair of glasses and filling them with sweet smelling white wine.
“For their aides as well,” Governor Rhea said, turning to regard Whitehorn and Pinkie Pie in turn. “What are your names?”
“I’m Pinkie Pie, her hoofmaiden! Heehee!”
“Whitehorn of Heighton, at your service, Governor.”
Two more glasses were poured. Piaffe stepped away to a respectful distance while Rarity and the rest of her party took seats around the table. She levitated the glass to her lips and took a polite sip, a hum of contentment escaping her as the pungent flavor pooled on her tongue.
“Tell me, how is it?” Rhea asked, her eyes lingering on Rarity’s glowing horn. “And do be honest. My vintner cannot improve without feedback.”
Rarity set the glass down with a small smile. “It’s divine, madame. You should be quite proud.” She glanced towards Pontius only to see that he had forgone tasting his wine in favor of glowering at the governor with poorly concealed disdain.
“I’m told that you come bringing an offer of peace from the barons,” Rhea said, setting her own glass down, “though I doubt that they would honor any such agreement, judging by who they’ve sent.”
Rarity’s smile dipped down into a frown. “I can assure you, madame, we have every intent of bringing this conflict to an amicable end with a minimum of bloodshed.”
As if to punctuate her words, the rumbling report of one of the Frieslanders firing shook the room. The wine glasses threatened to topple over, their contents spilling over their rims and onto the wooden table, while Rhea arched a brow.
“You would have me believe that the barons honestly want peace? Then why have they sent a foal and a traveler to speak with me?”
Pontius narrowed his eyes. “You would do well to address me as befits my position, mare.”
Rarity’s lips stretched into a diplomatic smile as she flicked her tail over to touch at Pontius’ as a gentle reminder. “I believe you’re mistaken, madame. I’m no traveler, and my husband is well-respected by the ponies of his land as their lord. We assure you that the barons will honor any agreement that we come to today.”
The be-tied unicorn, Robber Baron, snorted with bemusement. “Not a traveler? I’ve heard plenty of stories that would indicate otherwise! Shows up in Heighton as part of some show put on by Crazy Rich, and then drifts to Fellis to do charity work, and wed only weeks after your arrival on Altalusia. No doubt you imagine you’ve done quite well by yourself, Last Lady. That is what they call you, no?”
“Ah.” Rarity’s smile remained firmly in place despite the implications, reinforced with years of practice against surly customers. “So you’ve heard of me?”
“Certainly I’ve heard of you!” Robber Baron said. “The refugees from Fellis are so busy singing your praises that I sometimes wonder if they think they’re being paid to gossip!”
Rhea raised her free hoof, and the stallion fell silent with a brief dip of his head. “If the barons are willing to talk peace, then I will talk peace. What are your terms, Countess?”
Rarity’s smile grew wider as relief surged inside her. Finally, a pony willing to see reason! “Nothing too difficult, I’d hope. An end to the hostilities, and return to status quo.”
“Status quo,” Lady Hemlock mused. “So Duke Titus is willing t’ return the lands he took from my liege lady?”
Rarity shot a glance towards Pontius, who had turned his glower on the aged pegasus mare. She spoke carefully and intently, ensuring he was paying attention to her words. “I’m sure Duke Titus would agree to return any land occupied during the past few days.”
Pontius gave a brief nod of his head. “Aye, it would be agreeable, as long as Duchess Nettlekiss is brought to justice fer her crimes.”
Lady Hemlock’s lips drew up into a thin smile. “I’m not speaking only of th’ land taken by his army on its march t’ Castle Urtica, lad. Yer father would return what fiefs he stole two years prior as well if he desires peace.”
Pontius shot up out of his seat. “That land is rightfully ours, and yer kind will not step hoof on it while House Pike draws breath!”
“Mm, as I thought.” Lady Hemlock let out a dramatic sigh as she sipped from her glass. “They have no real intent of peace, Governor. This is a waste of time.”
“Now, now, let’s not be hasty, darlings.” Rarity tugged Pontius back down to the ground with a magical tug on his outfit, straining to maintain her facade of a smile after the outburst. She thought back to her brief discussion with Countess Silkie in the siege camp. “There is much to discuss if we’re to come to an agreement that leads to a lasting peace on the island, but for now surely we can all agree that there’s no need for bloodshed? We can all meet together once we’ve set our weapons aside and come to some accordance that’s mutually beneficial to all.”
A few seconds passed while Governor Rhea raised her glass to her lips. Slowly she turned to Robber Baron. “Tell me, Mister Baron, how does the price of grains from Nimbusea compare to local imports?”
“Oh, by the bushel? Nearly half again as expensive, in fact. But we’ve already sent a delegation of our best ponies to negotiate a bulk price, and if discussion with the Merchant’s Guild is any indication they’d actually be willing to cut a dozen or more cents from the rate once they see the sudden excess of demand in—”
Governor Rhea cut him off with a hoof, turning to Lady Hemlock. “How long does the Duchess expect the walls of Castle Urtica could withstand a siege?”
The pegasus snorted. “With th’ soldiers and cannon ye’ve sent, we could hold th’ walls until we died of old age! Titus will have t’ pay a heavy toll in blood if he wishes t’ take th’ stronghold.”
Governor Rhea nodded before turning to look past Rarity, to where Captain Piaffe was standing. “Captain, have the skirmishers reported any casualties since the beginning of the conflict?”
“Only a single fatality as of yet, Governor.”
Rarity’s heart sank as Rhea turned to look her in the eye. “Then let us get to the heart of this matter. Do you have anything to offer aside from words? Anything of worth? Either of you?”
Rarity pursed her lips, her jaw clenching at the bored dismissal in Rhea’s voice. “I would think that peace is worth a great deal.”
“Peace is worth only as much as war costs, Countess, and this war costs very little.” The governor turned to look at Piaffe once more. “Captain, I’d like you to take the diplomats to see the Frieslanders in action tomorrow. I believe she could use a more refined perspective on this conflict.”
“As you command, Governor.”
“Good.” Rhea sighed, looking to Rarity once more. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess. You are perhaps the most refined and courteous pony to ever speak with the voice of the baronlands, but fortunately I am not young enough to be moved by notions as empty as refinement or courtesy. If you have something real to offer, then you may ask Captain Piaffe to request another meeting. Until then, you are free to lodge with her for as long as you wish, or to arrange an escort outside the city. I’m sure you would feel more comfortable in your own bed.”
Rhea stood, turning away and stepping to look through the nearest window before Rarity could muster any response. Her muzzle flapped uselessly as she searched for some way to get past the dismissal, but what could she do? She didn’t have anything real to offer, and everyone in the room knew it. She looked back to Whitehorn and Pinkie, hoping in vain for one of them to point out some avenue she had missed, but the former only offered an apologetic grimace, and even Pinkie could only shrug.
Lady Hemlock cleared her throat, drawing Rarity’s attention. The older mare regarded her with open contempt. “Captain Piaffe, please help them find the door.”
Piaffe’s hooves clicked in salute. “If you’ll come with me, dearhearts?”
Rarity’s whole body felt numb as she rose from her plush cushion. She dipped into a prim curtsey almost without thinking, mumbling out a distracted “Thank you for your time” before turning to follow Whitehorn out into the halls.
She didn’t understand. Why didn’t anybody in this wretched future seem to have any interest in peace? Didn’t they care for the ponies getting their limbs blown off by cannon fire and their guts gored by shot? Her mind wandered in circles as Piaffe led them towards the exit. Perhaps Governor Rhea had never seen the inside of a tent filled with wounded, and that was why she didn’t flinch at the distant rumble of gunpowder? Yes, that must be it. She could go back, convince the governor to accompany her to the siege camp and really see all the harm that was being done, and then surely she would agree to a cease fire at the very least.
She had seemed so regal during the meeting. Surely she wasn’t completely heartless?
She blinked, looking up, and realized that they had reached the sun-swathed cobbles of the street. There wasn’t any time to waste. The governor would no doubt still be in her parlor, and if she was quick—
Whitehorn laid a hoof on her shoulder. Rarity jumped, turning to meet his gaze. He gave a small shake of his head. “We have nothing she wants, Countess. She was never going to agree to anything but a baron surrender.”
“But—she must not understand.” Rarity licked her lips, looking back at the two guards standing to either side of the gate to the gardens. “If I could just make her understand then—”
“Rarity.” She flinched at the firmness in his voice. She had never heard anything like it from him before. “She isn’t like us. None of the ponies driving this conflict are like us. This is why we need the Gifted Table, you see? There must be an authority of harmony to prevent senseless violence like this.”
“But that doesn’t help us now.” Piaffe led them into the plaza, and Rarity’s jaw clenched as she looked out over the ponies that milled across it, oblivious to all the carnage just a short walk away. “We can’t just let this continue. There must be another way!”
Whitehorn shot a quick glance towards Pinkie, who had been plodding along beside them with her head down. “Pinkie, didn’t Piaffe offer to take you out for drinks tonight?”
Pinkie looked up, but her frown remained fix in place. “Y-yeah? But I had kinda been thinking they’d be like celebrate-y drinks, and now we don’t have anything to celebrate…”
“Perhaps they could be consoling drinks instead?” Whitehorn nodded towards Piaffe. “You should ask.”
“I-I dunno. I don’t really feel like any kind of drinks right now.”
Whitehorn leaned in, lowering his voice so that Rarity had to step closer to make out what he was saying. “I have an idea, Pinkie, but we need the Captain to be distracted. Can you do that for us?”
Pinkie’s ears perked up. She looked to Rarity, head cocked with curiosity, and Rarity gave her an encouraging nod and a little smile.
“Well, in that case!” Pinkie’s mane popped back to full poofiness with a spray of confetti, and she pronked up to Piaffe’s side with an eager grin on her face. “Hey, Capitán! Didn’t you mention getting some drinks tonight?”
Piaffe jumped in alarm as Pinkie blew a multi-hued party horn in her ear, turning to look at the mare with wide eyes, but Rarity didn’t bother paying any attention to what she said. She instead turned to Whitehorn with a questioning gaze. Pontius drew close as well, leaning in on Whitehorn’s opposite side.
“Governor Rhea holds the singular authority to declare war or peace,” he explained, his voice low. “But she won’t agree to any peace until she’s convinced that the war won’t go in her favor. The only way that’ll happen is if she begins taking significant losses and loses her strategic position.”
Pontius nodded. “Aye. My father’s taken our forces north to besiege Castle Urtica. Once Nettlekiss loses her last stronghold, we’ll be able to concentrate every soldier in th’ baronlands on Friesland. I expect th’ governor would be more open to negotiation then.”
“That is not acceptable!” Rarity hissed back. They turned down a street, leaving the plaza behind as Pinkie chattered loudly in Piaffe’s ear. “We came here to stop the fighting before it happens, not after!”
Pontius grimaced. “With all due respect, my Lady, th’ fighting’s already started.”
Whitehorn nodded. “It’s up to the governor, and she won’t budge while her position remains secure.”
Rarity pursed her lips, tuning out the sound of a trio of giggling fillies running past them and turning his words over in her head. It’s up to the governor. She blinked, her eyes widening. “Could we… replace her?”
Pontius cocked his head. “Ye mean like a coup? My Lady, we’re hardly a dozen ponies.”
“No, not a coup, you brute!” Rarity snapped. He flinched back, and she let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, really. But surely there’s some way to replace her? She’s elected, isn’t she?”
Whitehorn quirked his lips in thought. “I believe the city governor is elected by a council of local guildmasters, yes.”
“Yes, that!” Rarity pressed on, speaking quicker. “What is it you told me before, the pressure runs both ways? The governor herself might not be willing to listen to reason, but if we could get to the guildmasters—”
“We could inspire a vote of no confidence,” Whitehorn finished. He nodded along, giving her an impressed smile. “You know, my Lady, most ponies would take a firm denial from the local ruler as a sign to give up.”
Pontius snorted. “She isn’t most ponies.”
Rarity beamed as a shiver of excited relief passed through her. It isn’t over yet. We still have a chance!
In the distance, one of the Frieslanders fired. The city blocked their sight of the walls from here, but she could still see the plume of acrid smoke billowing up, marking the site of the cannon. The street came to a brief standstill as ponies paused to grab onto their foals or secure their belongings. Even the ever-hawking street sellers paused to reach out and steady their wares, their voices falling silent while they waited for the thunder to pass.
The shuddering of the cobbles underhoof caused Rarity to stumble with a yelp, but Pontius caught her with an extended wing. He looked down at her with concern, and she responded with a sheepish smile as she regained her balance. “Thank you, dear.”
He nodded. “I shall always be nearby to catch ye, my Lady.”
A lifetime ago, Rarity might have swooned to hear a young noble speak to her as such, but those times were long past. Still, she gave him a gracious smile as she brushed a few miniscule motes of dust from her dress. He straightened up, returning the expression.
“Almost took quite a fall there, love.” Captain Piaffe observed. She and Pinkie had stopped, looking back at her. “Would be a shame to break that pretty muzzle of yours open on Friesland stone!”
Rarity couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the mare’s tone as she stepped away from Pontius, who had fixed the mare with a steely glare. “Your concern is duly appreciated, Captain.”
“Not much further now, if you feel a desire to rest your legs,” Piaffe said, winking. “My mother sent over some of her delicious eggplant lasagna! I do hope you’ll dine with me.”
“And then we’re going out on the town!” Pinkie added, her wheels clattering against the ground as she bounced in place. She drew a few odd looks from passing ponies, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Just two mares on a mission!”
Piaffe arched a brow, a curious grin on her face. “A mission?”
“A mission to have a night the city will never forget! Teehee!”
Whitehorn cleared his throat, speaking clearly. “Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to miss dinner tonight, if you don’t mind. I have a few old acquaintances I’d like to catch up with.”
“Acquaintances?” Piaffe asked, her ears perking up. She looked to Whitehorn, her soft green eyes suddenly sharper. “In Friesland?”
Whitehorn nodded with a disarming smile. “Indeed. I’m a journalist by trade, you see. I like to maintain connections with publications all across Equestria. So if you’ll excuse me.” He dipped his head in a series of short bows. “Countess, Captain, my Lord. I take my leave.”
“Oh. Certainly.” Rarity shot a brief smile towards Piaffe. “He really does have a fascinatingly large circle of friends. When can we expect you back, darling?”
“I won’t be gone too long, my Lady. Do save some lasagna for me.” With one last bow, Whitehorn turned back towards the plaza, walking away at a relaxed pace.
“Well, shall we get moving then, darlings?” Rarity made a show of tossing her mane as she strutted past Piaffe, drawing her attention away from Whitehorn’s back. “It’s this way, isn’t it? It’s been too long since I had some fine urban fare!”
“This is dumb.”
Ana looked back, towards where Gava was leaned against one of the stone corners of the bell tower, her talons clicking impatiently, and stuck her tongue out. “You’re dumb.”
Gava shot her a look. Ana waggled her tongue around. Gava sighed and looked away.
Ana smirked as she turned her attention back to the city beneath them. They were perched high up in the southwest bell tower of the old Lunar cathedral that dominated the city’s central plaza, and had been for an hour now. Whitehorn had instructed for them to follow and observe in the absence of any other orders, and it was an excellent position from which they could see most of the city center. Gava never had the patience for a good stakeout, but Ana had been watching with rapt attention as he followed Countess Rarity’s entourage into the governor’s palace. If the body language of the delegation after they finally left was any indication, then the diplomatic approach had been a complete failure. No surprise there.
The massive bell behind them was still ringing in sympathy with the latest shot from the Frieslanders, and it was approaching noon. They’d have to relocate soon if they wanted to avoid being deafened by the ringing, but for now Ana could still see the party weaving through the streets, so she stayed.
Her mind wandered, toying with passing thoughts even as her eyes soaked in every detail of the city below her. How would Princess Luna feel if she saw one of these great cathedrals that had been erected in her honor? Nobody knew what either Princess was like, no matter how firmly the priests of each denomination shouted to be heard over each other with their given truth.
At least, nobody from this time knows.
Rarity and Pinkie Pie claimed to be from the past, didn’t they? And their friends had found Princess Luna, somehow. Ana prided herself on practicing a healthy skepticism, but she was beginning to wonder if there was some truth to the strange Gifteds’ claims. Would the Princess be pleased to see ponies worshipping her in her absence? Would she be proud of what Equestrian society had become since the floods?
How would she feel about me?
Ana blinked the thought away as she saw Whitehorn parting from the delegation and turning back to the plaza. He walked at a casual pace, slowly weaving through the crowds. Once he reached the plaza he turned for the cathedral and picked up into a trot. She stiffened as he looked up, his eyes fixed on the very tower she was watching from.
Had he seen her? Ponies never looked up. It was a fact that Ana and her sister had exploited dozens of times in their lives, and yet this pony had shot a glance directly at her.
The bulk of the cathedral blocked her sight of him as he came closer, but she didn’t need to see to know that he had walked inside.
“Hey, sis.” She turned to Gava, who stirred from her nap with an arched brow. “I think he wants to talk. I’m gonna head down.”
Gava frowned. “What, you mean he saw us?”
Ana shrugged as she spread her wings. “Something like that. Make sure you’re not in the tower when this bell rings.”
She crouched down, ready to take flight, but Gava rushed up to her side. “Hey, whoa, I’m coming, too.”
Ana made a show of looking her up and down. “You?”
Gava clacked her beak. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re a big mean bird that stands a head taller than every pony in town.”
Gava narrowed her eyes.
“Point is, this guy’s trying to be subtle. And no offense, sis, but—” Ana reached a hoof out to prod at Gava’s soft black plumage. “You’re not subtle.”
Gava snorted. “I can do subtle.”
Ana arched a brow.
“Bah, fine! I’ll be waiting on the roof. Don’t be too long.”
With a wink and a smile, Ana jumped out into the open air and let her wings catch her weight. There was plenty of open space around the cathedral, so Ana drifted down into a lazy circle and alighted in an alley a short walk away before pulling her hood up. She was wearing a simple cloak of indigo blue, the hem lined with warm wool. It was exactly the sort of outfit that a common Frieslander mare might wear on a nippy autumn day, and it did well to hide her leathery wings and slitted orange eyes.
As impressive as the cathedral had appeared from the outside, it took Ana’s breath away when she passed beneath the heavy stone arch of its entrance. Columns of sparkling aquamarine ran down both sides of the aisle, flanked by long pews of blue marble cushioned with thick pillows of midnight blue satin. There were no lights within the cathedral, but large circular windows of silvery stained glass watched from on high on each wall, the sunlight filtering through like rays of dim moonlight and illuminating statues of thestrals bowed low in subservience towards the altar at the back of the vaulted room. Above it all was a single mighty statue of Princess Luna herself, her great wings spread as if in warning to any who would dare threaten her ponies, her head raised high, regarding the ponies before her with an imperious facade. Her mane sparkled with embedded sapphire and swirling lines of silver gilding, matching the pitch black mural of the night sky that had been painted onto the ceiling.
Ana generally avoided Lunar cathedrals in the past. It had been years since she’d set hoof in one. Now, subjected to the full majesty of Princess Luna and her tapestry of stars, she was reminded of why. It was almost too tempting to join the statuesque stone thestrals in prostration before the Night Mistress.
She set her jaw and shook herself, turning her attention to the ponies inside. The dim light was no obstacle to her, and it only took her a moment to pick out the pale blue coat of Whitehorn sitting on one of the pews. He was looking back, watching her through the white frames of his eyeglasses, a cordial smile on his lips.
Idiot filly. She had walked in with a disguise, and then immediately lost herself gawking at the setting like a breathless pilgrim. She flicked her tail behind her as she lowered her eyes into the shadow of her cloak and closed the distance, sitting at his side.
“We meet face to face at last,” he said. “Well, for a certain definition of face to face. Is it your first time here?”
His voice was familiar. After a few seconds she placed it: this was the same stallion that had left the door of her jail cell open. “Did you want to talk?”
He didn’t answer at first. Ana kept her eyes forward, but she got the impression that he was sizing her up. “I did, yes. Tell me, how have you and your sister been faring?”
Ana’s brow furrowed. “We’re fine, even if you’ve tricked her into a messy contract.”
“Tricked her? She was free to refuse my offer if she wished, and my payment is more than fair.”
“You know what I mean,” Ana said, rolling her eyes under her hood. So he’s one of those wordy types. “The contract has no deadline or limit. It’s messy.”
He let out a thoughtful hum. “Well, I only made it with her directly. I suppose it would be bad form to hold you to an agreement that you weren’t present for. If you wish, you may feel free to leave for other work at any time.”
Ana turned, fixing his calm gaze with a sharp glare of her own. She knew how her eyes would look in the dim light of the cathedral. To her surprise, he didn’t seem at all perturbed by the sight. “And Gava?”
“A contract, even one as informal as ours, is only as binding as its enforcement,” Whitehorn said, reaching a hoof up to adjust his glasses. “And without a ship, I expect you two wouldn’t be too difficult to track down.”
Ana pursed her lips, staring him down. After several seconds she looked away. “So what do you want?”
“I want to stop this war before it gets any further out of hoof.”
Ana arched a brow. “I didn’t take you for the hero.”
He let out a little chuckle at that. “To put it simply, I need Governor Rhea deposed, and I’m afraid talking and good faith will be rather slow to take. The guildmasters will need a more immediate threat if they’re to back any change in leadership.”
“More immediate than a siege?”
“Much more immediate, yes. This city could withstand a siege for years, and that’s far outside of my timeline.”
And a schemer, too. Ana had worked with schemers before. She didn’t like them. “So what are you asking me to do?”
“I want you to apply pressure, however that may be,” Whitehorn said. “For whatever reason, the city needs to think the siege is hopeless. You’re free to use whatever methods you deem appropriate, and when it’s done then perhaps we can revisit the question of Gava’s contract.”
He wants chaos. “How does the Countess feel about all this?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant, frankly. I’m your employer, and this is what I require of you.” He paused, letting her process his words. “Do you understand?”
Ana felt a strange sense of relief at his words. Of course Rarity wouldn’t approve of any of this. After a few seconds, she nodded. “I understand.”
“Excellent!” He slipped off the pew, the clop of his hooves against the cold stone echoing around them. “If you need to speak with me, I’ll be sure to arrange some time alone every few days at least. For now, I have other matters to attend to. Good luck, Ana. I have every confidence in your ability.”
He walked away without waiting for her response. Ana kept her eyes forwards, her ears twitching under her hood at the sound of his receding hoofsteps.
Ana looked up into Princess Luna’s face, meeting the glaring sapphires that so fiercely threatened retribution against all who wished harm on her ponies, and wondered if she would be proud.
“And y’all attacked her?!”
“Well—I mean, it was just a shove!”
“Rainbow Dash!” Applejack’s nostrils flared as she glowered at Rainbow under the brim of her hat. “That is not how ya should be treatin’ our friends!”
Rainbow grimaced. She had come to Applejack’s little room in the cargo hold hoping to find some support. “Are they really our friends, though?”
“After all they’ve done for us? Darn tootin’ they’re our friends! And even if they weren’t—” Applejack sighed, leaning back against her bunk. “Look, Dash, I know y’all’re stressed. We’re all stressed. But we gotta stick together in this. Ya can’t be goin’ around attackin’ ponies.”
Rainbow looked down at her hooves with a heavy sigh. She knew it was wrong, but it had felt so right at the time. It had felt like there wasn’t even any choice in the matter. A thought occurred to her, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. In a quiet voice she said, “Twilight started getting anger issues before—y’know.”
A heavy silence hung in the air. Applejack drew close and put a hoof around Rainbow’s shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. “It ain’t like that, sugar cube. Twi had that magic all up in her horn, right? All y’all got in you is stress and concern. Ain’t nothin’ unnatural about that.”
Rainbow clenched her jaw, fighting the burning in her eyes. “I hope you’re right, AJ.”
The hiss of steam caught their attention. Both mares looked up, exchanging a couple small, comforting smiles before heading out into the cargo hold together. Star Trails was standing in the open doorway, her eyes wide as if she’d been caught somewhere she shouldn’t be.
“Trails!” Rainbow took an uncertain step forward, causing the unicorn to jump in alarm. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to apologize.”
Trails stared at her wide-eyed, but said nothing. Her gaze darted between Rainbow, Applejack, and then to Twilight’s room, where Princess Luna was sound asleep.
“C’mon now, girl,” Applejack said warmly. “Rainbow ain’t gonna bite ya. Not a second time at least, I’ll make sure of that much.”
Trails opened her mouth stiffly. She put on a nervous smile as her hooves kneaded at the floor.
“Uh, Trails?” Rainbow asked, cocking her head. “You alright?”
In a sudden blur of motion, Star Trails twisted around and bolted back into the hallway. The rapid beat of her hooves receded into the distance until it was drowned out by the thrumming of the engine.
Rainbow looked to Applejack, seeing her own confusion reflected back at her. “What was that?”
Applejack gave a half-hearted shrug. “Reckon she’s still dealin’ with her feelings about things.”
“It’s just… unlike her. She’s normally so talkative.” Rainbow’s eyes widened as a sudden yawn overtook her. The anxious antics of the past night seemed to catch up to her all at once, her eyelids growing heavy. “Oh, wow. I think I’m finally ready to hit the hay.”
Applejack arched a brow. “Don’t y’all have trainin’ with Sabre later today?”
“AJ, I am a champion napper.” Rainbow smirked as she spread her wings, her hooves rising up off the ground. “I just need to rest my eyes a bit, replenish my awesome sauce.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Rainbow. I’m gonna go grab some breakfast with all the other productive members of the crew.”
Rainbow waved a hoof at her, smirking as she turned away, aiming for her little cloud room hovering along the ceiling. “Ah, give it a rest. You farmers think you’re so special just cause you wake up at the crack of dawn.”
Applejack chuckled. “Sleep tight, RD.”
“Oh, you know I will!”
The cargo door slammed shut with a hiss of steam, leaving Rainbow alone. Her cloud home had no need of a door, so she flew in through a window and alighted with a tired sigh, her wings drooping at her side. She was exhausted both physically and emotionally, her body having finally used up the last dregs of nervous energy since leaving Canterlot. How long had it been since she’d woken up for that dive, terrified at the prospect of having to fight some monstrous Twilight?
And now she couldn’t shake the fear that it was happening to her, too. Puffs of cloudstuff drifted into the air as she slumped into her bed, burying her eye in the soft material and drenching herself in the warm darkness. Why had she tried to hurt Star Trails?
Rainbow had never been a violent pony. Competitive, confrontational, sure, but even when Gilda had come to Ponyville and shown her true nature, Rainbow hadn’t tried to hurt anyone. A flash of annoyance creased her lips into a frown as she thought of her old foalhood friend. Her beak had always had a sharp edge to it, almost like—
Gava. The annoyance turned to anger. Rainbow wasn’t a violent pony, but if there was one person in this world who deserved violence, it was the heartless griffon that had stolen her eye and hurt her friends.
Rainbow rolled onto her other side, growling to herself. She didn’t know what terrified her more, the possibility that her mind was being twisted by some dark corrupting force, or that Applejack may be right and that it was all coming from her.
As disconcerting as it was, Rainbow didn’t have the energy to stay up tossing and turning and wondering. Her thoughts grew sluggish as sleep approached, and soon she was drifting into its comforting embrace.
The last thought she had was of Gava, broken and bloodied at her hooves and begging for mercy. The corner of her lips quirked up into a small smile.
She felt neither triumph nor glee. Just a content satisfaction.