//------------------------------// // XIX: Of Consequences // Story: Sunken Horizons // by Goldenwing //------------------------------// “What’s going on?” Twilight looked to Bag End with wide eyes as the screams echoed through the halls. “What’s happening?” “It sounds like spiders, but they’ve never come so far up the mountain before.” Bag End turned to face her slowly, brow furrowing. “Unless—” “You!” Twilight jumped as one of the ponies from the other table advanced on her, a stallion with his ears back and his voice laced with venom. “You brought them here!” “Wait, no!” Twilight scrambled backwards, shaking her head. “I didn’t do anything, really!” “How stupid do you think we are?” the stallion asked, backing her against a wall. “They’ve never come up this far, until you arrived! I don’t know what you told Peony Burrows, but I can see you for what you are, and I’m not falling for it!” It was at that moment that Twilight noticed the shuddering of the rough stone behind her. She reached out to try and push the stallion away, mouth opening to shout a warning, and— The wall exploded behind her, throwing her to the ground with a cry. She caught herself on her forelegs, squeezing herself against the ground as she felt something cold and smooth skitter over her back with a sharp screech.  She winced at a sickening crunch from above her, and she cringed as she saw the stallion’s body flung to the floor beside her, fresh blood pumping from the stump of his neck. The ponies in the galley screamed as the huge crystal spider crawled over Twilight’s shivering form, pulling itself fully into the room and menacing them with its massive jaws. What are you afraid of, little flower? We’ve already proven ourselves superior to these beasts. It’s right on top of us! It just killed that pony! I see it falls to me to save us, then. Not unexpected. Twilight’s horn glowed unbidden, and she looked up to see Midnight teleporting onto one of the tables with a wicked smile, causing the miners huddled against the edges of the room to jump. The lavender light from its horn was laced with sickly red as it ripped a pipe from the ceiling, summoning a shield around itself to hold back the hot steam. “Come meet your death, monster!” The spider screeched, lunging forwards just as Midnight threw the pipe. The spider’s head jerked to the side as the jagged edges of the makeshift javelin speared it, throwing the limp body off course. A brief second passed as the scattered ponies all regarded the twitching corpse in silence. One of them, a mare with a bright green coat that contrasted sharply with the drab colors of her peers, stared at the decapitated stallion. “That thing killed Polo.” “And we saved you.” Twilight’s eyes widened as the miners looked up to where Midnight stood proudly atop one of the tables. “You should be thankful.” “Monster.” The green mare spoke quietly at first, but her voice rose to a shout as she leveled an accusing hoof. “This is your fault!” Midnight frowned. Twilight focused her mind, squeezing her eyes shut, and when she opened them it was her standing in Midnight’s place. She stumbled, nearly falling as she recovered from the sudden shift in position. What was that? she demanded. I did what you could not, as usual. Midnight sneered at her from above the spider’s impaled corpse. Or shall I just sit and watch every time you’re struck dumb with terror? Yes! This is my body! You can’t just take over it whenever you want! Empty words, Midnight scoffed. You may not have asked for my help, but it was clear you wanted it. Twilight stomped a hoof, causing the few plates on the table to rattle and shake. No, I didn’t! Do not be coy with me! Midnight snapped. You may blanch at these thoughts, but you know that monsters need to be destroyed, and the creatures roaming these halls are undeniably monsters, even by your twisted reasoning! It was muzzle-to-muzzle with her, lip pulled back in disdain. You’re all but useless in battle, and you know it, which is exactly why you let me take control without your usual recalcitrance! Twilight blinked, mouth hanging open in shock. It’s not right. Her mental voice was feeble, lacking the strength of honesty. Killing anything, even creatures like these, should be a last resort. Ah, I see. You had hoped to try and befriend the thing first. Midnight narrowed its eyes, not bothering to hide its skepticism. You speak to me of making friends, and now these future friends of ours are in deadly peril. So will you fight me, now that the one immediate threat is defeated, or will you free me to do the task we both know only I can do? Twilight grimaced, raising a hoof across her chest as if to shield herself from the accusations. It was right—she’d felt its thoughts before it reached for her magic, and she hadn’t made any protest. With her heart pounding and a pony dying nearly right on top of her, letting Midnight take control to do what it did best seemed like the easiest decision. Even worse, it seemed like the right decision. Twilight scanned the room, stiffening as she realized that they were all alone. The miners had disappeared during their argument. Where did they go? I expect the fools don’t realize they’re safest within our sight. Midnight cast a wide ping, scanning the entire colony, and Twilight’s eyes widened as she realized the true extent of the chaos engulfing it. It wasn’t just a few spiders—there were already a dozen, with even more burrowing through the stone, bursting into rooms all throughout the facility before scuttling through the halls in search of prey. The miners were spread thin, some even completely isolated, and bile rose in her throat as the spell returned to her thick with the signature of fresh blood. Why were they attacking? The miners had seemed in disbelief at the idea of the monsters approaching the colony, and from what little Twilight had picked up, they mostly kept to the lower levels of the mountain, threatening mining and engineering teams without endangering their home near the surface. Something must have changed to bring the spiders here, and Twilight found bloody tears dripping down her cheeks as she desperately searched for an explanation, any explanation aside from the obvious. The only thing that had changed was her. They’d been safe here, but her arrival had changed that. So we leave, Midnight stated. As we should’ve already. These ponies are not our goal. We can’t leave them now! Somehow it’s our fault that this is happening, and we need to fix it! Fix it? Midnight narrowed its eyes, giving her a sideways look. How exactly do you propose we fix this? Twilight sighed. She sat down heavily, wrapping her tail around her hooves. We need to protect them. We will have to fight to protect them. Midnight paused, frowning down at her. You understand? After a brief hesitation, Twilight nodded. Just be careful. We can’t hurt anyone this time! She hardened her brow, using their emotional connection to add more weight to her words. I mean it. Midnight grinned, its bloody fangs gleaming in the dim light. Together, finally. It moved without hesitation, leaving Twilight with the surreal experience of wondering whether she was watching a mental projection or her own physical body walking away from her. She felt like she was looking through its eyes as it peered out into the hall, but that couldn’t be right, could it? They were her eyes, and it was her body, even if at that moment it felt wrong—inaccurate—to say that. The colony was empty here. The ponies that had been loading cargo on and off the lift next to the mess hall were gone, several crates abandoned in the middle of the open space. It was eerily quiet compared to how loud it was before. A spinning yellow warning light atop the lift cast long shadows that seemed to sway and dance to an unheard rhythm. Distant shouts and screams could be heard, often with long seconds of silence between them, and the sound of breaking stone had been replaced with the distant shudder of metal as hooves raced across it. There’s nothing here. Very observant of you. Their horns glowed, and in a spark of magic they leapt across the colony. Twilight flinched as a barrage of sensation hit her—shrieks and chittering mixed with ragged breaths and spilled blood. They were in another hallway, wider and with rails running down the middle. Several fleeing ponies drew up short with terrified cries as Twilight and her doppelganger appeared before them, trapped between the unknown threat and the trio of massive spiders jittering ever closer. “Go, keep running!” Twilight said. The miners rushed past with their heads lowered as if afraid they’d be cut down at any moment. “Three on one.” Midnight stepped forwards with a smug smirk. Broken pipes, stray rubble, and a discarded spear floated off the ground, hovering between them in a spinning circle of lavender and red light. “You will need many more.” Midnight threw the spear, piercing the lead spider’s skull with enough force to send shards of crystal flying and driving its corpse into the ground. Next was the piping, both ends twisted into improvised blades by their magic, sending the second spider to join the first. The third picked up speed, closing on the duo as Midnight carved a pony-length lance out of a stone, and Twilight wrapped them both in a glowing shield. She tensed as the spider jumped—soaring right past them and tackling one of the fleeing miners. Midnight scowled as it tracked the spider through the air, propelled the stone lance forth to strike the crystal spider’s abdomen. The tip jutted out the other side with a sound almost like a window shattering, and the miner that had been pinned under it scrambled away with a shriek. Twilight sucked in a deep breath. Her blood rushed in their ears, hot with a foreign thrill she’d never experienced before. Why didn’t it attack us? Perhaps it thought its odds of survival better if it did not face us directly. Midnight twisted its lips into a cocky grin. It was clearly a stupid creature. You can gloat later, Twilight said as she sent out more pings. There are still ponies in need of our help. And monsters in need of death, yes. With the crackle of teleportation, they threw themselves across the colony once more. Again they found a group of miners under threat, this time racing up a dark stairwell as even more spiders streamed up from below. Midnight was already tearing chunks of rock and sections of pipe from the walls as Twilight pinged the shaft beneath them, picking out targets. The brilliant light from their horns filtered through the hot steam hissing from the broken piping as Midnight squared its stance and let loose with its improvised arsenal. The first two spiders fell easily, dropping off the walls with twitching limbs and tumbling down the stairwell with the echoing sound of cracking glass. The third jumped away from the attack, skittering past Twilight and bounding higher, after the fleeing ponies. Again they ignore us, Midnight growled. Another pair of spiders jumped past them, the jagged tips of their crystalline legs leaving gaping holes in the craggy walls. What is the meaning of this? We can figure it out later! We have to save those ponies! Midnight nodded, and together they reached out with their magic. Twilight gnashed her teeth as sweat broke out on her brow, and with a screech of metal they pulled the stairs’ anchors out of the stone. They twisted the steel back into a messy wall, blocking the ascent behind the fleeing miners. “Face us, beasts!” As if on cue, all three spiders turned around. The nearest pounced, and Twilight fell back with a gasp as Midnight stepped in front of her, a wave of force from its horn sending the monster tumbling backwards with a shriek. A pulsing ache formed at the base of Twilight’s horn as Midnight lashed out with stone javelins, felling each beast in quick succession. “That’s better!” Midnight grinned, its breathless excitement overflowing into Twilight’s mind and making her heart pound against her chest. It looked back, fixing her with its manic expression. Why do you cringe and grovel, little flower? We’ll be even more powerful moving as one! We need to slow down! Twilight winced as she picked herself up off the floor, rubbing at her head. We’ll burn ourselves out if we keep going at this pace. Bah! The battle will not wait for your comfort. Midnight looked up, ears twitching. A deep rumbling to their side preceded the arrival of another spider, the beast tackling Midnight and bearing it across the stairwell with a fearsome screech. It bit down, and Twilight screamed as pain flared in her shoulder. She fell limply against the metal stairs, one hoof gripping at the warm blood trickling through her coat as she rolled over to watch the battle. Midnight grunted as it pushed the spider’s snapping fangs back with all four hooves, angling its horn down just enough to blast it with red-tinted lavender energy. The magic bounced off with a sharp ping, snapping the spider’s head back and giving Midnight time to impale it on a lance of jagged stone. It fell still with a rattling hiss, letting Midnight toss the body away and climb back to its hooves. “Treacherous creature!” Are you okay? Twilight blinked, and she was standing at Midnight’s side, leaning against it for support. I’m fine! Midnight snapped. I will take the pain. It keeps my mind sharp. Twilight frowned in confusion, only to realize a moment later that the pain in her shoulder was fading, giving way to a tingling numbness. She could see Midnight’s jaw tightening, and its nostrils flared as it straightened up, pushing her away. Wait, what are you—you don’t have to do that! Spare me your protests. You’ve put me through worse before. Midnight’s horn glowed, sending out a rapid series of pings while Twilight watched, mouth agape. The magic returned quickly, shaking Twilight from her shock. The bottom levels were crawling with spiders, and almost everypony in the colony had gathered in a single room near the peak of the mountain. There was only one exception: two ponies that seemed to be hiding on the colony’s furthest edge. They teleported without hesitation, coming out into a wide, long room with a deep ditch running through the center. A small submarine rested in the middle, and with a start Twilight realized that the far wall was made up of two massive doors, metal teeth locked together to hold back the weight of the ocean outside. It only took one more ping to find the hiding ponies, who were squirreled away in a small room adjacent to the drydock. Twilight took the lead without thinking, hooves echoing over the chamber as she galloped across it and flung the door open. The ponies inside screamed as they charged her, heavy wrenches brandished in their teeth, and with a cry of alarm Twilight erected a shield, sending the makeshift weapons bouncing off and clattering to the floor. “Wait! Wait! I’m here to help!” The ponies backed away, bumping against a table full of discarded tools. One of them, a pegasus mare with blood splattered over one cheek, jabbed a shaky hoof out. “Liar! You’re just trying to get us to lower our guard so your spiders can eat us!” Twilight blinked. “What?” The other pony, a unicorn stallion with bandages wrapped around his barrel, raised his lips in a snarl. “Stop playing with us, you monster!” A screech from behind made Twilight’s ears perk up, and she stepped further into the room, letting Midnight block the doorway. It turned without hesitation, picking up the wrenches left on the floor and hurling them at the approaching spider with a snarl. The spider staggered as the first struck it between the eyes, leaving a jagged crack behind, and the second followed soon after, caving its crystal skull in. The twitching corpse stumbled, falling into the drydock with a loud thud. “Your time is up, mongrels.” Midnight rounded on the terrified ponies with a menacing glare, the reddish glow of its magic filling the room. Twilight gasped, reaching out to bat at its horn and stop whatever spell it was casting, but it shoved her away with a hoof before she could get close. Midnight, no! The two miners disappeared in crackling flashes of energy, their screams cut off in an instant. Twilight looked up at Midnight with wide eyes, and it frowned its disapproval down at her. Teleportation, little flower. Your words strain my patience where action gets results. Twilight blinked. I thought you were— You thought wrong. Midnight scowled as it turned away, stalking out of the little workshop. Twilight grimaced as she followed it back into the drydock, the ache in her horn even stronger after sending two ponies halfway across the colony. We have to figure out what’s brought the spiders—oof! Midnight had come to an abrupt stop just outside the workshop, causing Twilight to bump into it with a sudden shiver. She was just about to ask what happened when she looked up— —and saw hundreds of pink crystalline eyes leering back at her. I think it’s fairly clear why they’re here. The lavender-red glow of magic cast spidery shadows across the room as Midnight tore several sections of railing from around the drydock. They spun in the air, tips sharpening into deadly points, and the spiders jerked and twitched over the walls, heads bobbing side to side. Twilight’s eyes widened, darting around the room as she sat back on her haunches, pinned in place by the crystal orbs watching her from every direction. She was having trouble breathing past the nervous pit in her gut, and trouble thinking past the ache at the base of her horn, and it was all she could do to keep from turning tail, fleeing back into the workshop, and slamming the door shut behind her. “What are you waiting for?” Midnight challenged. The spiders froze, and after a second of silence began to chitter excitedly, the shrill sound echoing off the walls until it seemed to come from every direction at once. Twilight pinned her ears back against her head in vain—it felt like they were inside her, scratching at her skull as if begging for escape. “Enough of this!” Midnight shouted. “Come and die, monsters!” As one, the spiders tensed, bodies coiling as they prepared to pounce. “Wait! Stop!” Twilight threw herself to the ground and covered her head in her hooves, praying to Celestia for escape. It took several long moments spent shivering on the floor before she realized the room had gone completely silent. She cracked an eye open. The spiders were still on the walls. Still watching. Twilight blinked, her muzzle hanging open as her brow furrowed in thought. She licked her lips, glancing towards Midnight before speaking again. “G-go away.” They turned without hesitation. The walls seemed to come to life as the spiders crawled across, streaming into the connected hallways with a quiet chittering. Twilight watched in awe as the light of her magic was reflected a hundred times across their crystalline chitin, bouncing back up into the darkest corners of the room in beautiful new hues. They can hear us. Twilight tore her gaze away from the sight, meeting Midnight’s eyes. And we can hear them. It didn’t take the form of words. She could feel dozens of entities within her, almost like Midnight, but so faint that she hadn’t noticed it until then. Twilight stole a quick glance towards Midnight, afraid to take her eyes off the spiders for too long. Do you feel that? It is as before, just prior to the attack. Midnight narrowed its eyes. Twilight climbed back to her hooves slowly, mouth agape. They aren’t just hearing us. They’re listening. She looked to Midnight with wide eyes, meeting its skeptical expression. This is incredible! Unprecedented! It’s like some kind of impromptu hive mind or—ah, I need a notebook! Twilight’s horn glowed as she pulled her brother’s old logbook and a pen out of her saddlebags, flipping to one of the blank pages near the back and scribbling furiously. What are you doing? Freeze! The spiders froze. Some looked around themselves as if confused, and Twilight failed to suppress a giggle as she wrote the results of her first test. She looked back up, putting as much force into her mental voice as she could. Go down into the mountain, as low as you can. Never approach the peak again. No, wait! She gasped, picking out one of the smaller specimens, only a little taller than a pony. You stay! The chosen spider skittered closer as the others continued to file out of the room. Was she imagining it, or did it sound almost inquisitive? This is ridiculous. Midnight shook its head as Twilight clapped her hooves together in excitement. We should kill the monster. We could kill all of them with this power. No! Twilight snapped. I need a test subject, and they aren’t harming anypony anymore. She reached out a tentative hoof, hesitating as the spider crouched back. We brought them here. They heard me calling for friends, and they came. They tried to kill us. Because you asked them to. Twilight shook her head, letting out a breathy laugh. Oh, Celestia, what’s happening to me? The fangs, the eyes, the diet, and now these creatures following my every word like they think I’m their mother. She cringed, rubbing at her eyes with a hoof. It’s just getting worse. Midnight said nothing for a long moment, leaving Twilight to sniffle quietly. Perhaps we should name it? Twilight looked up with a frown. Huh? You wish to test our ability, yes? Midnight was watching her with an oddly neutral expression, its voice lacking the usual hard edge. Notes will need to be taken, and the subject will need a name. Oh, right. Twilight nodded, wiping the fresh blood from her cheeks and straightening up with a deep breath. She brought Shining’s logbook back up to her face, pen floating an inch off the paper. That’s a good idea. A name. She glanced up at the spider, being careful not to start chewing on the pen as she thought. What about Scylla? Scylla. Midnight nodded. Make it so. The corner of Twilight’s lips pulled up into a small smile as she pressed the pen against the paper, and she sighed as the scratchy sound of her writing pushed her dark thoughts away, replacing them with ideas for future tests. We’ll call her Scylla, then. Her? Twilight frowned, not looking up from the paper as she began to outline future plans. Well it’s certainly not a male name. I’m sure she won’t mind. Why is the spider a her? Midnight asked. Twilight froze. Slowly she looked up to meet Midnight’s slitted, bloodshot eyes. It looked back at her with quiet curiosity. Would you—I mean, are you a her? Midnight pursed its lips. It looked away, narrowing its eyes. I would prefer that. Oh. O-okay. Twilight grimaced, returning her attention to her notes. Sorry. Are we done here? Midnight asked. It—she—glared at the stone and steel around her with undisguised contempt. The fool ponies are saved. The Frozen North awaits. We should check in on them first. Twilight closed the logbook with a contented sigh, slipping it and her pen back into her saddlebags. At least to say goodbye. Midnight’s tail flicked behind her. Somehow I expect silent disappearance would be their favored farewell. We put their home at risk, Midnight, and—and some of them died because of it. Twilight shook her head as she sent out a ping. The miners were still hidden in the same room, no doubt wondering when it would be safe to come out. We can’t just run away. And yet whenever some new foe challenges us, your first thought is to flee. Midnight rolled its eyes with a snort. There will be no more distractions after this, little flower. Let us be quick. Twilight smiled in relief. Her horn continued to ache even after she stopped channeling her magic, and with one glance at Scylla’s considerable mass she decided she’d rather not put further strain on herself with teleportation. Let’s go, then. Twilight started towards the nearest hall at a brisk trot, and when she looked back she saw Scylla scuttling behind her, Midnight perched on the spider’s back with an impatient glare. The blood was still sticky even as it cooled. Rainbow Dash groaned in frustration as she perched on a cloud, grabbing the fluffy foam and scrubbing it into her coat. Clouds were supposed to be pearly white, but the blood she’d sloughed off had turned this one a sickly pink. Sassie’s scream came from both sides. Looking up from the carcass beneath her, Rainbow saw the second twin behind her, six black-clad security ponies at her side. The blood was everywhere, gathering the hair on her forelegs into stiff, spiky clumps and speckling her wind-chilled cheeks. She grimaced as a red drop passed over her lips, resisting the reflexive urge to collect it with her tongue. They formed in two ranks of three. The first rank crouched low, oversized barding and long spears blocking off the hall, while the second rank reared up, balancing wide-barreled guns on the shoulders of their peers. Her hooves and legs were getting sore from the vigorous scrubbing; she winced as she pulled sticky tufts apart. She tossed aside the spoiled scarlet cloudstuff before scooping up a fresh, pink clump and moving on to the next stain. Rainbow buffeted the security ponies with powerful gusts from her wings, throwing off their aim as they pulled their triggers. The shockwave of the blast alone was enough to daze her, and she was just barely aware of lead pellets sparking off the walls to either side, cracking the wooden facade and revealing the tarnished metal underneath. Some made it through, slowed by the wind, and pinged off her coat with sharp stings. Her head darted to the right, checking her blind spot, but she saw only blue sky and pink cloud. Of course she hadn’t been followed; nobody could keep up with her. She forced a grin as she refocused on her scrubbing, glancing to her left only once every minute. She grit her teeth as she flew over the stumbling ponies, swooping past their blockade and back into the dining room. She could spare only a moment to look to Gerritt, head resting in a thick red puddle as a mare bent over him, and then she burst out into the open air. It wasn’t just blood. Bile rose in her throat as she spotted the spongy pink material smashed into a paste under her hooves. Luckily, it wasn’t so hard to scrape off. She’d killed him. It probably wasn’t the first time she’d killed, now that she thought of it. Her memory of the battle on Altalusia was hazy, but she recalled flashes of green as attacking soldiers reared up to oppose her, and then the splash of red as she’d struck them down. Somehow it felt different this time. Those ponies had attacked her with sharpened horns or studded hooves, and she’d moved on practically before they hit the ground. They weren’t really even dead so much as—she shook her head as she reached for a word—defeated. Taken care of. Set aside. But that was nothing like what she’d just done. Silverblood was no danger to her. He’d begged for mercy as she crushed him, but she hadn’t stopped. How could she stop? It felt like she’d spent a lifetime angry at the world for what it did to her and her friends, and then it gave her the perfect target. He was everything she hated about this new Equestria. How could she have ever stopped something that felt so good? He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. Finally, after so long being left behind, being saved, and watching her friends risk everything to save the world, Rainbow felt like she had made a difference. She wasn’t just dead weight. Now if she could just get the stains out of her coat, maybe she could sleep tonight without waking up every two hours. She wasn’t sure how long it took her, but the sun was approaching its peak when she finally left the bloodsoaked cloud behind. The Argo was nowhere in sight, but that was no issue for her. She was a pegasus, and even as a filly she’d had to deal with her home drifting whenever she went out to play. She cut through the empty sky like an arrow, rainbow trail glittering behind her, and within half an hour she saw the distinctive silhouette of the Argo cresting the horizon. It didn’t take much longer to close the distance. She glided down under the envelope and into the little pocket where the submarine docked, coming to a stop in front of one of the hatches. With a small grunt of exertion, she spun it open, swept inside, and shut it behind her. The rush of the wind and the roar of the propellers diminished to a quiet buzz. The ship’s ticking greeted her. Taking a deep breath, Rainbow turned for the cargo hold, eager for the solace of her cloudroom— —and came face-to-face with Applejack. “Howdy.” The cowpony offered a sympathetic smile. “Was wonderin’ when y’all would get back.” Rainbow stiffened, mind locking up as she raced to think up an adequate excuse for her absence. Then she realized Applejack hadn’t even asked where she’d been, or why, and offering an excuse would only seem suspicious, and it had been several seconds and she still hadn’t said anything. Rainbow brushed past her friend without a word. “RD? Y’alright?” Rainbow stiffened at the sound of Applejack’s hooves following behind her. “Trails told me about what happened. I was thinkin’ we should talk.” “I-I’m fine, AJ.” Rainbow grimaced at the hoarse stutter in her voice. She hadn’t realized how sore her throat was. She came to a stop before the cargo hold door, a hoof tapping impatiently as she waited for it to open. “Oh, no, don’t give me none of that, missy.” Applejack walked around to Rainbow’s right side before stepping close with a good-natured smile. “I learned my lesson with Twi, ya hear? Ya had a good fly, right? So I ain’t lettin’ ya scamper off to sulk on y’alls own.” “I’m fine, AJ!” Rainbow winced at her own sharp tone as the door opened, and she kept her gaze resolutely forward as she strode through the lingering steam. “Just let me lie down a bit, okay? We can talk later.” She flared her wings, bending her legs in preparation to take flight. “Rainbow.” Applejack’s voice was low, carrying a quiet dismay that made the pegasus stiffen. “Is that a bullet wound?” Rainbow rounded on Applejack, eye wide and mouth open to offer up some excuse, but the look in her friend’s gaze gave her pause. She followed Applejack’s stare, spotting the ugly red gash that had been hidden under her right wing. She frowned, more confused than anything. Thin trails of blood dripped from the wound, staining her fur. It was a long scar, as if a round had grazed her without going any deeper. “I don’t remember getting shot.” “Well, what do ya remember?” Applejack stepped closer. “Talk to me, sugar cube. Just where did y’all fly off to?” “I…” Rainbow gulped, not meeting her friend’s eyes. “I was just stretching my wings.” Applejack didn’t say anything. Rainbow grimaced at the quiet sound of the cowpony sitting down. “I saw the Orichalcum.” Again, the silence. With a shuffling of hooves, Applejack came up to Rainbow’s side and lent the comfort of her warmth. “I wasn’t really thinking, okay? I just flew closer and I saw—” Rainbow licked her lips. “I saw him sitting there, through the window. He smiled at me!” At last Rainbow found the strength to look up into Applejack’s green eyes. Her sight blurred with tears, but she could still see the sadness etched into her friend’s face. “I didn’t really mean to, AJ. I just—I had to know why!” The hot embers lingering in Rainbow’s chest flared up as she relived the moment, and she found her jaw clenching with anger between breaths. “He hurt us! He hurt you! I couldn’t just—y’know?” Applejack’s lips pulled up into a despondent smile. “Did he give a good answer?” Rainbow’s lips twitched back, and she looked away as she fought to keep the snarl off her face. “Not even close.” “Then what?” “I…” Rainbow pursed her lips. She looked down to her hooves, imagining a bludgeoned face between them. “I, uh… I got angry.” She squeezed her eye shut, hating the way she trembled. Why did she feel this way? She’d done the right thing. “I k-killed him.” “Oh, Rainbow.” Applejack pulled her into a tight hug, stroking one hoof through her mane as the first sob shook her. “Rainbow, Rainbow, Rainbow.” “I d-didn’t mean to!” Rainbow’s chest heaved as she leaned into the embrace. “I just wanted to k-know why!” “I get it. It’s alright.” Rainbow’s ear twitched at the brush of Applejack’s lips. “It wasn’t right, what ya did, but I can’t hold it against you.” Rainbow pulled out of the hug, looking Applejack in the eye and speaking with as much certainty as she could muster. “I don’t regret it. It was the right thing to do.” “Rainbow.” Applejack’s sad smile faded. “It wasn’t right. Somethin’ like that can’t never be.” “So what am I supposed to do, huh?!” Rainbow snapped. The fire was back, threatening to burn through her chest, and she pushed it all into her voice. “Let ponies hurt and hunt my friends? Let them treat you like—like toys? You want me to just watch?!” Rainbow shook her head as she pounded a hoof against her heart. “Nopony hurts my friends!” “It ain’t right, Rainbow!” Applejack’s voice was stern, but level. “Y’all can’t just go around killin’ ponies ’cause ya feel they wronged ya! I get why ya did what ya did, really, and I ain’t gonna hold it against ya, but ya gotta understand that it wasn’t the right thing to do! An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind!” Applejack slapped a hoof over her mouth, eyes wide, but it was too late. Rainbow’s jaw worked side to side as she glared at her friend, ears flat against her head. “If the whole world hurt you, or any of the girls,” she seethed, “I would gladly leave it blind.” “Rainbow—” “No!” Rainbow stomped a hoof. “Enough of that! We’re not in Equestria anymore, AJ! I don’t care what the ponies here call this place, Equestria is dead!” Her tail lashed behind her as she jabbed a hoof into Applejack’s chest, pushing her back. “I’m not gonna sit back and hope that ponies get what’s coming to them, not anymore! From now on, I’m gonna be what’s coming to them! And if anyone thinks they can hurt the last five friends I have left, I’ll beat them into the ground!” Applejack stumbled backwards, staring aghast up at Rainbow. Her mouth hung open, but she said nothing. Rainbow turned away, unable to bear seeing the way Applejack looked at her. Why couldn’t she understand? “We gotta tell Sabre.” Rainbow stiffened, a cold dread forming in her gut. “No.” “We’re on her ship, RD. There’s gonna be consequences, a reckonin’, and it’s gonna follow us wherever we go. She has a right to know.” Rainbow grimaced. “She won’t like it.” “I don’t like it neither. But I ain’t gonna keep this secret from her.” Rainbow glanced back, meeting Applejack’s gaze. The message in her eyes was clear—Sea Sabre would learn the truth, and it was up to Rainbow whether she wanted to be involved. Rainbow sighed. Her limbs suddenly felt like lead. “We can tell her together, right?” “Of course.” Applejack smiled. It was a small, sad thing, but it was honest. “I don’t hate y’all, sugar cube. I don’t think what ya did was the right thing but, well—” she shrugged “—I know it’s right in your heart, and I know why ya did it. I can get along.” Rainbow smiled back. She took a deep breath, relieved to feel the fire finally fizzle out. “I’d really like to get some sleep first.” “Sure.” Applejack’s smile grew a little wider. “I reckon a nap won’t hurt.” With one last nod, Rainbow took flight and soared through the window of her makeshift cloudhome. She glided over Princess Luna’s slumbering form, settled onto her soft bed of clouds, and curled up into a tight ball. She closed her eye, and within seconds drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. Crouching low, Ana stopped to catch her breath. She was taking shelter in a small storage room on the fourth level, a windowless little cube hemmed in by stone shelving. Rolled-up maps were crammed into the available space, and a few tin crates along one side gave her cover from the door. Voices and hooves rushed to and fro in the hall outside, calling out orders and responses. “Kitchen’s clear! Kitchen’s clear!” “Checking war room!” “Team set at the bottom of north stairwell!” Ana grimaced as she raced to build a mental map of the patrols. It had been hours since the alarm was raised, and the initial chaos of a hundred bluecoats rushing through the halls had since given way to careful, methodical searching. They’d split into teams of five—much too large for her to take out quickly and silently—and began clearing the keep from bottom to top, voices echoing off the stones with every report. Rear security teams moved up as the rest searched, ensuring she couldn’t slip past them and out to freedom, drawing an ever tighter net upwards through the keep.  She doubted her ability to evade them for much longer. A sardonic smirk tugged at her lips as she listened to the commotion in the halls. Even if she couldn’t find a way out, at least she’d be able to say it took a hundred trained troops to hunt her down. Stop thinking like that, stupid filly. She shook her head, dislodging the dark thought. You’re getting out of here. Luna knows Gava won’t survive a month without you watching her. Now if she could just figure out how, she’d feel a lot better about her situation. She stiffened at the sound of hooves stopping just outside the door. A voice called out, muffled by the stone but still alarmingly clear. “Checking map room!” Buck. She scanned the room, considering her options. The ceiling was out; the soldiers had started looking up as soon as the knowledge of her thestral nature reached them. She might be able to squeeze herself into one of the crates, but she’d probably have to empty whatever was inside to do so; there wasn’t time to try and do so with any trace of subtlety, and she’d most likely end up doing the hard work of capturing her for them. No, she was already in the best position, crouched down behind thin tin like some street urchin seconds away from her first lashing. Talking or fleeing wasn’t an option. Ana thought back to a panicked sailor begging for mercy as she reached a hoof to her arcata, slowly pushing it out to avoid the distinctive click. Somepony was going to die, and it wasn’t going to be her. The door burst open, filling the little room with the clang of its impact on the stone as the soldiers started rushing in. Ana crouched low, setting her jaw. If she waited for them to find her, she’d be gunned down in an instant. They’d be most vulnerable as they entered, when the narrow doorway split the group in two. She rounded the corner, letting loose with the most monstrous screech she could muster. There was only one soldier fully in the room, and he paled as he suddenly found her sliding past his bayonet. Behind him, the second soldier froze in shock, stumbling forwards as her peers bumped into her. A shot rang out as Ana plunged her arcata into her target’s chest, the twin blades sliding between his ribs and spearing his heart. Dark blood spewed from his lips as he fell, rifle barrel trailing smoke. Shouts of alarm filled the keep, pounding hooves already converging on the gunshot. Ana didn’t spare them any thought. The second soldier was just hitting the ground as the third made it inside, struggling to turn her body and bring the length of her weapon to bear. Ana pounced, smashing the mare’s side against the doorframe and cutting up into her gut. With a quiet sigh, the mare went limp. The first soldier rolled to her hooves, screaming her fury as she charged Ana with her bayonet. With her arcata still lodged in flesh, Ana was forced to duck, hissing at the pain of the steel grazing her neck. She pulled a knife from her vest with a wing, stabbing it up into the mare’s throat, and the scream turned into a gurgle. Ana’s eyes snapped to the door. The last two soldiers had opted to step back instead of try and rush her, leveling their rifles at her through the doorframe. Their trigger strings were already in their mouths, their eyes hard. Ana grit her teeth as she used her trapped arcata as a lever, bringing the body wrapped around it up like a shield. Two shots rang out, and she winced at the twin thuds of lead balls sinking into the dead mare’s flesh. The soldiers screamed, and she screamed back. She barreled out into the hall, using the body as a battering ram. A bayonet burst through the corpse an inch from her face. Another punched through and sunk into her shoulder. Ana gasped as she threw the body forwards with all her weight, ripping her arcata free and sending both soldiers tumbling back beneath it. White-hot pain flared in her shoulder, and with a quick glance up and down the hall she saw a rank of troops on either side, forming up to fire. Charging either way would be suicide, and falling back into the map room would give her only brief respite. Hissing in pain, Ana jumped off the corpse-tangled ponies in front of her and squeezed through the nearest window. The rapid crackle of a gun volley was soon followed by what felt like a kick to her flanks, but stopping to assess the damage would likely mean death. With two legs wounded, Ana used her wings to push herself up the keep’s facade, clambering onto the roof with a desperate gasp. To her relief, there were no soldiers waiting for her, but she knew she wouldn’t have long. She could already hear ironshod hooves pounding in the stairwells, racing to the top. Flying free wasn’t an option. Even with several seconds’ headstart, a rank of seasoned bluecoats would be able to knock her out of the sky with well-placed fire, and if she somehow managed to escape their range, the valley was full of airships and guns that would gladly make further attempts. Her heart pounded against her chest, pumping warm blood down her chest as she scanned the roof. Her eyes widened as she picked out a small airship moored on one of the keep’s three towers. It was a little thing, a skiff designed for a crew of two or three at most. A single dormant propeller was set into the rear, and a spotlight leaned out over the prow. The entire construct was made of thin, dented metal, little better than the tin of a peasant’s pantry, and suspended by frayed rope under a patchwork balloon. It was barely worthy of being called an airship, but at that moment a half-inch of cheap metal to put between herself and some bullets was exactly what Ana needed. She gnashed her teeth as she pushed herself further, scaling the tower’s rounded sides. A bang and a shout from beneath her announced the arrival of the first bluecoats on the roof, and she pulled herself towards the outer side of the tower, wincing as another volley of gunfire threw chips of sharp stone against her face. Ana crested the tower to find a shivering Nettlekiss soldier on top, hooves devoid of any weaponry as he clutched a notepad to his chest. She bared her fangs at him, and he dropped the notepad with a whimper, rushing to open the trapdoor beside him and disappearing down into the tower. She pulled herself onto the little skiff with a groan, wincing at the feedback on her wounded shoulder as she cut the mooring rope with her arcata. It began to drift immediately, swaying in a gentle wind. Ana turned to the controls with a grimace. A simple wheel allowed her to angle the propeller to either side for turning, and an exposed crank behind it would let her power it. “Fantastic,” Ana muttered as she limped over and put her weight on the crank. “Just had to be a hoof-crank.” She leaned forwards, pushing the crank down and biting her tongue to hold back a whimper at the burning pain in her shoulder. It lurched into motion with a ponderous clicking, lethargic at first, but settling into a ragged rhythm as the worn coils wound tighter. The propeller sputtered into motion a couple seconds later, and a strained grin graced Ana’s face at the feel of the wind tugging at her mane. “Form up!” Ana stiffened. She poked her head out over the edge of the hull, looking down to the squad of bluecoats filing out into the yard outside the keep. “Ready!” As one each soldier swung a foreleg out, bringing their raised rifles down into firing position. “Aim!” Ana backed away from the edge, scanning the little boat’s deck. A metal crate was set into the center. She peeled the lid open, spotting the annotated maps and rubbish stacked within, and then slammed it shut before rolling on top. She pushed herself down against the cold metal, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fire!” The crackling cascade of gunfire was almost immediately drowned out by the sound of heavy lead balls crashing through the ship’s thin hull all around her. She flinched as a round parted the hairs of her tail, and again as another burst through the chest she was using a cover, shattering one of the thin bones on the end of her wing. She wheezed at a sudden punch to her gut, one hoof flying down to grab the fresh bullet wound and staunch the bleeding, and then—darkness. She was a filly on a strange wooden airship, marveling at the sails that cast their shadows over the open deck like giant wings. Coarse feathers, feeble with age, curled over her shoulders, shielding her from the stiff wind of travel. She looked up, cuddling into the dark plumage of the griffon she called Dad, and he smiled down at her. Ana fluttered her eyes open, simultaneously marveling at her continued life and pointedly ignoring that there was ever any possibility of her death. The air was still, absent of the shouts of bluecoat sergeants or the popcorn reports of their rifles. There was only the ragged tick of the ship’s little engine, the stuttering whir of its propeller, and the rush of the blood in her ears. She clenched her jaw as she rolled off her makeshift cover, biting back a giggle. She wasn’t home free yet, and she really didn’t feel like disturbing her growing list of wounds with manic laughter already. She checked herself first, looking down to the dark stain on the belly of her vest. Pulling her hoof back, she was relieved to see the base of a bloodstained bullet jutting out of her, having failed to penetrate any further. As she’d hoped, the extra layers of the metal chest—plus whatever had been stacked inside—had sapped enough energy from the round to prevent any deeper injury. Grabbing a knife in a wingtip, Ana gnashed her teeth and jabbed the tip into the wound, hissing as she pushed the round free. It fell to the deck with a high-pitched clink, bounced once, and fell overboard. After taking a moment to bind her wounds in ragged cloth from her bag, Ana turned her attention to her ship. The engine and propeller were still functioning, at least as much as they had before the volley, though the engine was already running out of what little energy she’d imparted. She limped over to the crank and began to push, winding the coils tighter once more. It was only when she felt the gut-wrenching sensation of falling that she bothered to look up, groaning as she saw the fluttering tears ripped into the ship’s little balloon. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Sweet Luna, it’s always something, isn’t it?” Peering down over the edge of the hull, she saw the ridge of the valley passing beneath her. From above, the network of trenches on either side of the crumbling wall looked almost like the scribblings of a bored foal. They cut the land like scars, curving around rock outcroppings in mismatched rows connected by narrow, jagged paths. Soldiers in Nettlekiss green milled between them, some propping their rifles up between piles of dirt while others took what time they could to relax. In front of the trenches was a wide expanse of hoof-churned dirt, thinly spread trees shading the bodies—orange, green, and even a couple blue—scattered beneath them. The bushes and flowers were all but trampled into the ground by the repeated passage of soldiers, leaving only low-hanging branches to serve as any kind of cover. And it was these trees, Ana realized with rising alarm, that her little stolen airship was about to crash into. She flared her wings, vision flashing white at the pain from the shattered bone. Flying was out of the question, but she could still pull off a clumsy glide. There wasn’t any time to spare waiting for a break in the trees. With a prayer to Luna and a deep breath, Ana took the two steps to the edge of the deck and jumped. The ship hadn’t been moving that fast by most standards, but her injured wing still threatened to buckle under the sudden pressure. She gnashed her teeth and focused on keeping it extended, trying to tilt it back and slow her fall without overwhelming the weakened limb. The shrill screech of breaking metal echoed across the sparse woods from behind her, but she didn’t dare look back lest she throw herself into a roll she’d have no way to recover from. Luckily, the trees weren’t very tall. She was only a couple dozen feet off the ground, meaning she could reach its safety in seconds. It was just a matter of getting down without smashing into one. “Oof!” The lingering momentum from the airship pushed her into a tree side-on, halting her mid-air.  She clutched onto the tree as hard as she could with three wounded limbs, avoiding any damaging bounces. Slowly she slid down, plopping onto the flattened grass at her back as she hit the bottom. “Ow.” A moan escaped her. She blinked and was startled to see the sun jump an inch across the sky. Eyes open, filly. Don’t pass out now. You’re almost there! She was so close. She’d made it out past the Frieslander lines with her stolen cargo intact. All she had to do now was get up, find her bearings, and make her way back to Altalusia. If only her limbs weren’t so sore and her chest wasn’t so hot. She licked her lips as her eyelids began fluttering down. She’d added three more bodies to her name—surprisingly few, considering the circumstances. That made seven total since she started counting. Seven kills in nearly as many days. How odd that she should suddenly become so conscious of the lives she took during such a bloody week. Hoofsteps approached her, and with a concentrated effort she mustered the energy to tilt her head to the side. More soldiers—wearing the orange colors of Duke Titus—their eyes wide with curiosity. Finally, some good luck, she thought as she settled back into the grass. Titus was working with Whitehorn; he would help her. She just had to hope his troops weren’t superstitious enough to finish off a wounded thestral they found on patrol. It started slowly, much like the snow. Rarity couldn’t see much from within the cell. It was a damp, cold affair, lit only by the slivers of pale moonlight that filtered through the bars set high on the wall. Snow dribbled through at a glacial pace, collecting in the corners before congealing into a reflective, silvery mush that made it quite difficult to lie down anywhere but the very center of the room, which was raised ever so slightly above the edges. No matter which way she faced as she and Pinkie cuddled together for warmth, there always seemed to be a stiff wind blowing from the most uncomfortable direction, slithering in past her scarf and cloak and stealing the heat from her body before shifting the instant she adjusted. Rarity was reminded of the thrilling romances she used to while away the days with during the slower seasons at Carousel Boutique. How many times had she read of the dashing hero being entombed in a dungeon much like this one, withstanding the villain’s torture with only the thought of his beloved to keep him sane, biding his time until he could escape and come to her rescue at the last possible moment? Or, in the more exciting stories, until his beloved could use her own wiles and charms to set him free herself? The books would always talk at length about how cold the dungeons were, but Rarity had mostly skimmed these dreary descriptions, eager to get to the breathless pining and promising that always preceded the inevitable escape. Just then, Rarity was mostly pining for a blanket thick enough to keep the stone from sapping what little warmth she had left in her. She was roused from the shivering dreariness of her attempts at sleep by the heat of sunlight, and she couldn’t resist the urge to rear up and peek out the barred window into the courtyard beyond. Two ponies, stopped outside of her and Pinkie’s cell and seeming more curious than upset, peered past the snow that clogged the slim, barred window and whispered between themselves. Their eyes widened as they met her gaze, and a bluecoat stepped forth to ward them off. They came back minutes later, now as a gaggle of five, and she noticed one wearing a patchy white scarf around his neck. “Rarity?” Pinkie groaned as she pushed herself off the floor. “What’s going on?” “I’m not quite sure, Pinkie,” Rarity said. “We seem to have some visitors.” The watchers didn’t go undisturbed for long. The bluecoat returned, now with a comrade, and shooed them away once more, the stern threat in her voice clear even as the wind carried the words away. Their guests backed off with rude jeers, disappearing from Rarity’s sight. Rarity dropped back down with a sigh, returning to Pinkie’s side. “Do you think it was rash of me, what I did at the guild hall?” “I don’t think it matters,” Pinkie said, scooting over to make room on the little patch of stone they’d kept dry with their bodies. “Somepony had to speak up, right?” “I suppose. It felt so right in the moment, but now I find myself having second thoughts.” She shivered as she curled up against her friend, drawing her cloak close. “Maybe it’s just the cold getting to me.” Pinkie let out a quiet giggle, and Rarity blinked in surprise as a furry hoof booped her on the nose. “It’s definitely the cold, Rare-bear. It’ll all work out in the end, you’ll see!” Rarity couldn’t help but smile as Pinkie began to hum a cheery tune, and after a minute of listening Rarity found herself humming along. She closed her eyes, warmed by their friendship, and began to drift off to sleep. Or she would have, if not for the sudden commotion at the window. “Pinkie, dear,” Rarity said, nodding towards the window. “Would you mind terribly giving me a little boost?” “Sure!” A brief shuffling of hooves later, Rarity perched unsteadily on Pinkie’s back as the party pony straightened up, raising her high enough to crane her neck and get a clear look through the window. “Oh, heavens!” “What is it?!” Pinkie chirped, peering upwards. “Oh, wait, I can guess! It’s a dog! It’s a snowball fight! It’s—” “It’s nearly a riot!” Where once there were only five ponies, there were now dozens. They stomped and scraped their hooves, leering and shouting at the squad of bluecoats shoving them back with harsh warnings. Many of the protesters wore white cloth around their necks, though only a few had proper scarves; most wore torn strips of rag, blanket, or curtain, the old fabric wrapped haphazardly over the weathered coats and cloaks they wore for warmth. “Countess! Countess!” Rarity nearly fell backwards as River Pie suddenly skidded into view, crouching low to beam at her through the bars. Her pink cheeks were rosy from the cold, and the fog of her breath danced with excitement before her. “Oh, River!” Rarity let out a sigh of relief as she regained her balance. “Should you really be here, darling? I don’t think I’m supposed to have visitors.” “Hi, River!” Pinkie called. “Hi, Pinkie!” River squeezed up against the bars, letting her smile back at Pinkie before turning her attention back to Rarity. “Not much time, Countess! I hear yer trial’s t’ be today, but don’t worry! We won’t let anythin’ happen t’ ye!” “Trial?” Rarity blinked, glancing over to the crowd as an outburst was met with shouting from the soldiers. “What’s going on over there? Those ponies look furious!” “Aye, we are!” River grinned as she brandished the white cloth wrapped around her neck in a hoof. “I went ’n told th’ others what happened, and we got just about th’ whole city on yer side, Countess! If they want t’ take ye t’ th’ courthouse, they’ll have t’ get through us, first!” “What? No!” Rarity shook her head firmly. “I don’t want any fighting, and certainly not over me! I appreciate the support, darling, but that support must not shift to violence!” River blinked. Her grin faltered, giving way to confusion. “But then how’re we supposed t’ help?” “Hey! Stop!” River jumped, glancing towards the sound of galloping hooves to her side. She turned back to Rarity, rushing through her words. “If that’s how ye want it, that’s how we’ll do it. Take heart, Countess! Whitehorn says he has a plan! We’ll get ye free soon enough!” With that, she was off, leaving Rarity to look out at the growing crowd and watch as a pair of bluecoats ran past her window in pursuit. Someone in the crowd hefted a pole, a white curtain tied to the end transforming it into a simple flag. “Hey, I want a turn!” Pinkie said, wiggling her shoulders for emphasis. “C’mon, get down!” With one last grimace, Rarity climbed back down to the damp stone. Pinkie pushed herself back with a giddy grin, reaching a hoof over to detach herself from her wheels, when the metallic groan of a door opening caught their attention. Urgent hooves preceded Captain Piaffe’s arrival outside of their cell. The mare’s smile was strained, dark bags hanging under her eyes. “Morning, dearhearts.” A grim-faced bluecoat stallion stepped up behind her, keys jingling in his hooves. “Rough night?” “I’m afraid so, though it looks like we weren’t the only ones,” Rarity observed coolly. Piaffe nodded. The cell door opened with a ponderous creak, and she beckoned with a hoof. “I trust you won’t need an escort at least to the front door. After you.” Rarity kept her head high as she walked out of the cell. Pinkie’s wheels clattered along behind her, only to come to an abrupt stop as Piaffe swung the door closed.  “Hey!” Pinkie protested. “I wanna come!” “Sorry, Pinkie, but you’re not the one on trial here.” Piaffe shrugged. “Yet, anyways. I’ll be sure to bring your Countess back in one piece.” “It’s alright, Pinkie,” Rarity said, giving Pinkie a warm smile. “Your company is marvelous, darling, but I believe we’ll have to part ways momentarily.” Pinkie pursed her lips. At length, she stepped back, looking away with a heavy sigh. “I’ll be waiting.” Rarity could spare only a moment to look after her friend before Piaffe gave an insistent nudge to her flank, starting her up the corridor. She remembered the path she’d been guided down after their arrival last night, and it was no trouble for her to retrace her route up the steps and through the halls towards the tower’s entrance. Soldiers shot her wary glances as they passed, some curious, others contemptuous, but she ignored them all. A squad of two dozen bluecoats was crammed into the foyer, rifles raised to the ceiling as they stood at attention. With a glance back from the sergeant and a nod from Piaffe, they opened the door and filed out in two columns, forming a pony shield that stared impassively at the gathered protesters waiting outside. “Let’s go,” Piaffe said. She lowered her voice as she leaned into Rarity’s ear. “And I’ll have none of your rabble-rousing here, love. One wrong word and we’ll have blood on our hooves.” Rarity nodded. “You have my word with regards to that, Captain.” The derision from the crowd doubled in strength as Rarity stepped out into the sunlight, squinting past the brightness to see all the faces contorted in anger. They wore the clothes of workponies and laborers, clothes that Rarity had rarely seen in the streets outside of dawn and dusk—how many of them had gathered here, shunning the jobs the besieged city’s rulers clearly deemed so vital to its continued survival? Was it a hundred yet? More? It was impossible for her to see the extent of the crowd past the press of bodies. And press they did, surging forwards into the line of bluecoats before being thrown back like waves washing off a rocky shoreline. Their shouts overlapped in an indecipherable chaos, filling the air with an anxious energy that made Rarity’s hooves twitch with every step. Looking up, Rarity saw ponies peering from the shadows of second-story windows and balconies, pointing and discussing among themselves. Some of them disappeared into their homes before returning seconds later, hanging bedsheets and curtains from their windows like banners. Others shook their heads in silence, slamming their windows shut or continuing to watch with undisguised contempt. Rarity knew from experience that a pony walking with purpose and energy could cross the courtyard in under a minute; with the jeering crowd interfering, it took the little island of blue several times longer. She felt almost like a weary sailor at the end of an ocean voyage when the courthouse finally loomed before them. Its bricks were painted a stark white, with shimmering blue banners hanging proudly from the walls. A marble statue of Princess Luna frowned down on Rarity from the left of the tall wooden doors, while a far more motherly statue of Princess Celestia smiled at her across it. A small flower garden stretched out to either side of the steps, hemmed in by a short stone wall. A thick line of protesters stretched across the opening in the wall, blocking their passage. Every one of them wore white around their necks, their hooves dug into the thin layer of snow that had gathered overnight. Piaffe stepped forwards, clearing her throat and speaking in a loud, commanding bark that seemed at odds with her usual relaxed demeanor. “Step aside, citizens! This is city business!” All around them, the crowd grew still, the shouts fading into an angry buzz as the onlookers seemed to hold their breaths. River Pie stepped out of the line, her voice firm but strained. “We refuse! Th’ Countess has done nothin’ wrong!” “That’s for the court to decide.” Piaffe narrowed her eyes, cocking her head. “Who even are you, baronlander? Did you get lost on the way to the siege camps?” “What’s it matter where I come from?” River countered. “Ye have th’ wrong pony, bluecoat! It’s Cart Marks that’s betrayed this city, and th’ Countess is speakin’ fer us when nopony else will!” “That,” Piaffe repeated, “is for the court to decide.” She raised her voice, turning to address the watching crowd. “You should be glad that we don’t imprison every one of you! This city is under siege, and you imperil everyone within its walls with your tantrum! The question of Mr. Marks will be resolved once the crisis has passed, but right now we must remember what separates us from the barons!” She spat the last word with surprising vitriol, jerking her head in River Pie’s direction. “Justice and due process, and unity against outside threats! Friesland has been a stubborn thorn in the barons’ sides for centuries, and we didn’t do it by bickering among ourselves with an army at our gates!” Quiet murmurs passed through the crowd, and Rarity could see shame reflected in some of the watcher’s eyes. “Ye call this unity?” River yelled, drawing their eyes to her. “Ye sit behind yer towerin’ walls thinkin’ yer better than us! What does a Frieslander see of their hours of work and toil, eh? At least a baronland peasant gets t’ eat th’ grain they grow with their own hooves!” Cheers of agreement rose from the crowd, forcing Piaffe to shout over them. “I am not here to debate with a baronlander playing revolutionary! Step aside, now!” “Or what?” River squared her stance, her raggedy scarf fluttering in a passing gust. “Ye gonna arrest us? Ye don’t have enough room in yer dungeons!” Piaffe pursed her lips. “That may be true,” she admitted quietly. “But we’ll see how many we can fit.” She turned, nodding to the watching sergeant. “Clear a path. Detain as many as you can.” The soldiers stepped forwards without hesitation, faces grim as they advanced in lockstep. They moved in pairs, half cordoning off the courthouse entrance while the rest began to bring ponies to the ground. The protesters seemed stunned at first, many watching in disbelief as the bluecoats tackled them one by one, wrapping their victims in rope before moving to the next target. Then River Pie reared up, bringing her hooves to bear on the nearest soldier with a vicious snarl, and the spell was broken. The protestors within the cordon surged forth, advancing on the bluecoats with cries of fury. The soldiers fell back, working together to bludgeon the uncoordinated rebels and restrain them while they lay stunned in the snow, but they were outnumbered at least three-to-one, and it was clear to Rarity that they couldn’t keep it up forever. “Wait! Stop!” She turned to Piaffe, who was watching the chaos unfold with a grimace. “Captain! This is madness!” “This is order, love,” Piaffe said tersely. She met Rarity’s gaze as the ponies outside the cordon grew more agitated, pushing against the line. “It’s what’s kept Friesland alive on an island full of enemies, and it’s my duty to sustain it.” Rarity lowered her voice, putting as much urgency into her words as she could. “You’re fighting a losing battle, don’t you see? You can’t possibly win this!” “And if I gave even the slightest hint that I believed that, my ponies would be torn to pieces,” Piaffe hissed. “Commoners respond to authority and nothing else. So if you want to avoid any deaths today, you will work with me and get your pretty plot past that line the instant a hole opens!” “Let me talk to them!” Rarity offered. “I can tell them I’m going of my own volition. They’ll listen to me!” “Them listening to you is exactly what’s gotten my city into this mess, dearheart,” Piaffe spat. “You are not the voice of authority within these walls, and your attempts to usurp the governor is the very thing that you’re being judged for!” A gunshot rang out. The city fell silent, turning to watch the wounded stallion fall. The world slowed in Rarity’s eyes as she took in the battered bluecoat mare standing protectively over a fallen comrade, her rifle barrel trailing smoke. With a start, Rarity realized she recognized the injured stallion—Twinkle Smith hit the ground with a soft thud, blood swelling past his scarf and staining the white fabric an ugly red. The gunshot hung in the air, echoing through the streets almost as if to challenge the great cannons lining the distant walls. Twinkle Smith grimaced, the hat sliding from his head as he writhed, and then disappeared behind the protesters rushing to his aid. Rarity looked to Piaffe, catching the captain’s eye, and they came to an understanding. “Stand down!” Piaffe jumped into motion, advancing on the soldier that had fired her weapon. “Rifles up! Private, drop your weapon! Corporal, find me a corpsmare!” At the same time, Rarity turned to face the crowd watching in stunned silence from the other side of the cordon of nervous bluecoats. She could already see muzzles twisting in anger, but if she spoke quickly, she could stem the flow before it spread out of control. “No more violence!” She cast the words out without hesitation, clumsily, pushed on by the dread of what might happen if she paused to think. “Nopony here wants to be hurt, and nopony wants to hurt another! There’s no need for any further pain here today!” “They shot that pony!” A stallion’s voice, angry and hot, rose up from the crowd, the speaker buried in its depths. “And you have every right to be upset!” Rarity said. She looked from pony to pony, trying to impart the weight of her words on each one. “His name is Twinkle Smith, and I consider him a friend, but more violence will only lead to more hurt friends! I am willing to give the shooter forgiveness, but it—and all my efforts since arriving in this wonderful city—will be for naught if we start a bloodbath here today!” She scanned the crowd pleadingly, raising her voice. “I come from a land where ponies knew each other as friends before all else, where mistakes once made are forgiven and forgotten, where ponies live together in peace, and war and poverty are nothing more than frightening stories we tell our foals—and I’m trying to bring that magic to you, but above all else, it mustn’t be through violence!” “What would you have us do, Countess?” a mare in the front row mocked. “Ask politely for better lives that the city has made clear it has no intent to provide? Bow and scrape and beg as they turn the snow red with our blood?” “Are you really so thirsty for savagery?” Rarity snapped, meeting the mare’s glare. “Did a single one of you even think to ask what I wanted before coming out here to try and impede my trial?” She let the words hang for only a moment before pressing on, driven by a surge of heat inside her. “I came willingly to the dungeon, and willingly to this courthouse, and I will not have any more blood spilled on my behalf!” She was breathing hard, both stunned at the unexpected force in her voice and relieved by the wide-eyed expressions looking back at her. The anxious energy that had just been threatening to overflow had faded, replaced with a startled mix of guilt and confusion. “Countess.” Piaffe’s voice behind her drew her attention, and Rarity looked back to see the path to the courthouse cleared, the protestors and bluecoats watching each other with suspicious glares from opposite sides. “Let’s go, before they find something else to get upset over.” Rarity followed the Captain up the path at a brisk trot, glancing back to see the bluecoats falling back into a tighter line, blocking any further entry. River Pie and the other protesters that had been caught in the brawl watched her go in silence before being absorbed back into the crowd, Twinkle Smith’s limp form suspended on their backs. Piaffe held one of the old wooden doors open, beckoning Rarity in before shutting it closed behind them. The tumult of the city and the hundreds of watching eyes were cut off by a soft click, leaving them in oddly serene silence as Piaffe led Rarity inside.