Chaos had befallen Friesland.
The barons had all but crushed resistance outside the inner wall; only a few remaining pockets of bluecoats continued to fight, their final struggles marked by the crackle of their guns and the thin white clouds left behind by their powder. The rest had all either surrendered or retreated deeper into the city, leaving the baron troops to stream through the streets in their vibrant liveries. Most remained in the shadows of their banners, guided by the shouts of their commanders. Some broke off in small groups to loot and pillage, breaking through the hastily barricaded doors of homes and shops as the panicked denizens within fled through back exits, leaving only broken wares and fresh fires behind.
Even with those opportunists abandoning their ranks, the invading force was thick enough to fill the streets. They towed in cannons and tore apart the wooden mansions in the outskirts, gathering the material in courtyards to form the skeletal outlines of battering rams. The barons had made their breakthrough, and they were wasting no time preparing for the next stage of the siege.
On the wall, the Frieslanders, unwilling to bombard their own city, had abandoned their massive cannons in favor of their rifles. Marksmares poked out all along the old crenellations, throwing scattered shots at the troops below with bitterly hissed insults, though few landed on target. Reinforcements trickled in to fill the gaps, but the sense of desperation on the wall was tangible. With so many troops occupied taming the protests in the city center, there simply weren’t enough hooves to spare.
Rarity took it all in with a grim frown as she stood atop the wall, the hot wind from below drying her mane hairs and drawing a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. Bodies surrounded the breaches along the city border, with even more abandoned in alleys and on street corners. How many lives had been lost while she struggled within the walls? And what of the violence she’d caused herself, threatening the city from inside and making it easier for the besieging army to go about its gruesome work?
She pursed her lips and took a deep breath, the tang of smoke stinging her nostrils. Focusing on her failures would accomplish nothing. She had given the ponies of Friesland her best—truly, everything she had—and that was all that could be asked of her.
Now, she would give them peace.
Rarity looked to each of her friends in turn. Pinkie Pie on her left, bruised and dirtied and yet still bouncing in excitement, her wooden wheels clattering against the stone. Pontius stood on her right, his head held high as if to challenge any Frieslanders that might think to move against him or his wife. Rarity brushed a hoof over his, drawing his attention and giving him a grateful smile, and he smiled back, the expression immediately shattering his cold facade. Whitehorn stood apart from the three with his eyes on the city, expression distant, but he turned and gave her a small, reassuring nod when he felt her gaze on him.
Governor Rhea was there as well, darkly surveying the streets below. Slowly, she looked up to Rarity, lips twitching. After several seconds, she looked away, waving a hoof to signal her consent.
Rarity’s horn glowed, and the soft tinkling of her magic filled the air behind them as a long white flag floated off the stones.
She let out a shaky, relieved breath as she watched the flag catch the wind, rippling within her magic. The sunlight filtering through her aura from the west turned it from pale blue into a twinkling rainbow.
A chorus of cheers rose up from below. Around the jubilant baron troops, bluecoats fell against their positions with sighs or curses, some glaring hatefully down at the invaders while others looked to their peers with hesitant smiles.
The hard part, Rarity hoped, was over. Now she just had to somehow broker a lasting peace.
“We should go,” Whitehorn said, beckoning towards the door to the nearest tower. “If we’re quick, we can begin negotiations today.”
Governor Rhea narrowed her eyes. “I see no need to rush the imminent destruction of my city.”
Whitehorn answered her with a disarming smile. “Governor, our only goal here is to bring peace back to your city as soon as possible. I’d hope you’re not the type of mare to delay out of petty spite, but if you are, we can walk as slow as you wish. One day won’t make a difference.”
Rhea’s lip curled back, and she brushed past Whitehorn with a sharp whip of her tail. With a quick glance back to Rarity, Whitehorn followed.
Pinkie let out a strained whine. “Eeeh… that wasn’t very nice of him.”
Pontius grunted. “We’ve defeated the city with fair siegecraft. It’s unbecoming for her to act so foalish.”
“Sympathy, darling,” Rarity chided. “I’m sure she’s doing her best to carry herself with grace, but I don’t envy her position. Though I also don’t appreciate Whitehorn prodding at her. Now come along. Our job here isn’t finished yet.”
Rarity followed after Whitehorn and Rhea with a measured gait, her two companions at her sides. No doubt Titus would be his usual bullheaded self at the negotiation table, but she wouldn’t allow him to jeopardize the peace with his brutishness.
She’d tamed the city. Now she would tame the barons.
“This is it?”
Rainbow narrowed her eye as she peered through the long window of the Argo’s observation deck. The glass was already collecting frost along the edges, and was cold to the touch. She raised a hoof to the smooth surface, feeling the chill against her skin. A shiver ran down her spine, but not from the cold.
Beside her, Applejack pursed her lips. “It’s so… empty.”
There was no other way to describe it. They’d finally reached the ice sheet marked as The Grey on all their charts, but after travelling for so long with only “the Frozen North” as a destination, Rainbow had come to the realization that the Frozen North was a very big, very featureless place.
The ice went on as far as she could see, stretching endlessly across a barren horizon and gleaming with reflected sunlight. Only scattered islands of dead rock—the peaks of towering northern mountains that trumped even the Canterhorn in height—dared to rise above the surface, the once-mighty giants reduced to craggy hills buried under a glistening blanket of wet snow.
The hiss of steam from behind drew both mares’ attention, and they turned to see the rest of the crew filing in. Sea Sabre led the way, her lips set in the same stern frown she’d worn since agreeing to continue north.
“Good, you two are already here.” Sabre took a position near one of the corners, spinning to face the rest of the room. “We need to discuss our next move.”
“Don’t see what th’ rush is,” Flint grumbled as he set his cider down on the pool table. “We had a good game goin’.”
“The ‘rush’ is that we’re in the middle of what is most likely the most dangerous region in Equestria, with no clear destination and only a vague sense of an objective.” Sabre turned to Rainbow and Applejack. “Twilight told you to meet her in the Frozen North, and here we are. If you have suggestions for where we go from here, I’m listening.”
“Well, uh, heh.” Rainbow let out a dry laugh as she glanced out the window. “I was kinda hoping it’d be obvious when we got here.”
“There’s nothing here but ice,” Sunfeather said, nodding towards the window. “It’s not good for the gears.”
“To be frank, I reckon Twi didn’t quite know what she was lookin’ for up here neither,” Applejack said. “Whatever it is, we’ll have to find it the same way she does.”
“Somethin’ tells me that mare’s got a few tricks we don’t,” Flint said. “Th’ Grey’s huge, aye? Even just searchin’ above th’ ice there’s no tellin’ how long it’d take, or if we’ve got supplies t’ last.”
Sabre nodded. “And we can’t dive to search underwater. We might be able to crack the ice from above, but the submarine would be trapped under a fresh layer before we even reached the seafloor.”
Trails raised a hoof. “I might be able to scan under the ice from above. And with all those mountain peaks out there, I could even reach the bottom around them.”
“Didn’t you say it would’ve taken you days just to scan all of Ponyville?” Rainbow asked. She let out a frustrated huff. “We have so much more ground to cover here.”
“Maybe if we wait, Twi’ll come to us?” Applejack suggested.
“We’re not going to just wait,” Sabre said. “Anything could be lurking here, maybe even capable of threatening an airship. And that’s assuming that Twilight didn’t die en route.”
Rainbow stomped a hoof. “She wouldn’t!”
The room fell silent as Rainbow glared into Sabre’s calm red eyes, daring the other pegasus to repeat herself.
Trails cleared her throat. “Dash… we can’t—”
“No!” Rainbow snarled. “She wouldn’t leave us! After everything she’s been through, everything we’ve been through, I refuse to think for even a second that she would let herself die! I’m never giving up on her!”
Flint snorted. “That ain’t how death works.”
“I don’t care!” Rainbow’s tail flicked out behind her as she stalked past the rest of the crew, ears flat against her head. “You guys can do what you want, but I’m going out looking for her!”
The door hissed open, and Rainbow pushed through the swirling steam without looking back or waiting for any response. What did it matter what they said, anyways? The only thing they could do was keep looking, and she could cover more ground than any airship, and faster. A cocky smirk came over her as she quickened her pace. She’d probably find Twilight and get back before they even finished arguing over what to do!
She made a beeline for the cargo hold, fluttering up to her cloudroom and grabbing her wingblades off their rack. They might slow her down a little and make it harder to fly, but Sabre’s warning about the potential dangers of the ice still lingered in the back of her mind. She secured each blade tightly before making a few experimental flaps of her wings, testing the reassuring weights.
Her ears twitched at the sound of the door opening, followed by Applejack’s concerned voice calling up at her. “Rainbow? Y’all left yet?”
“Not yet.” Rainbow poked her head out her doorway with a suspicious frown. “But that doesn’t mean you can stop me!”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “RD, y’know I’m on y’all’s side in all this, right?”
“Yeah, but sometimes you’ve got a real weird idea of what being on my side means!”
“It means I want to find Twi just as much as you do!” Applejack snapped. “But it’s just about killin’ me seein’ y’all like this all the time! I know you’re upset, RD, but ya ain’t gonna get anythin’ done if ya keep pushin’ ponies away!”
“We don’t have time for this!” Rainbow jumped down to the floor below, jerking her head to the side. “Let me go.”
Applejack grimaced. “C’mon, filly. Let’s talk it all out with the others before ya go flyin’ off into who knows what.” Her voice grew strained. “What am I supposed to do if ya don’t come back?”
Rainbow blinked. Her shoulders slumped as the realization sunk in that Applejack wasn’t trying to keep her from saving Twilight; she was just worried.
Rainbow stepped forwards and pulled Applejack into a tight hug. “I’ll be careful. But I have to do this.”
Applejack sighed as she returned the hug. “Yeah, I get ya. Hang on just a sec.”
Pulling out of the hug, Applejack trotted for her room, disappearing through the curtained doorway. She came out a few seconds later with a thick grey scarf in her muzzle, which she deftly wrapped around Rainbow’s neck.
Rainbow looked down. The scarf was broad enough to cover her shoulders entirely, and it hung down just past her knees. “What the hay, AJ, this thing is huge!” She wrinkled her nose up at the faint smell of oil hanging on the fabric. “And what’s with the smell?”
“It’s, uh, Flint’s.” Applejack let out a dry laugh. “Seein’ as we’re up in the cold and all, and neither of us have really put much thought or money into our wardrobes, so he figured I could use it. Y’know.”
Rainbow arched a brow as she looked up, seeing the slight blush on her friend’s cheeks. “So are you two like a thing now or…?”
“Consarnit, Rainbow, a stallion can give his mare friend a scarf without gettin’ all romantic-like!” Applejack snorted, adding in a quiet grumble, “I reckon even Winona couldn’t find a romantic bone in that pony’s body.”
Rainbow blinked. “You said marefriend.”
“Landsakes, I’m his friend, and I’m a mare! There’s a gap between them words!” Applejack grabbed Rainbow’s shoulders, pushing her towards the door. “Don’t ya got somewhere ya wanna be? Or did ya wanna sit around talkin’ about my love life all day?”
The pipes vented steam as the door clunked open, and Rainbow grinned as she let the flustered cowpony shove her out into the hall. “So you admit that Flint’s involved in your love life!”
“I ain’t admittin’ nothin’!” Applejack stepped back, giving an exaggerated wave as the door began to shut between them. “Bye! Be careful! Don’t do anythin’ ya’d normally do!”
Rainbow snickered into her hoof as she turned away, making for the nearest hatch. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about a pony like Flintlock being close with one of her best friends, but it was fun to tease her over it either way.
Taking a quick moment to adjust the scarf around her shoulders, Rainbow reached up and spun the hatch open, revealing the open bay where the ship’s submarine was secured. The cold arctic wind rushed in without hesitation, and she was thankful for Applejack’s gift as she stepped onto the narrow catwalk outside and locked the hatch shut behind her.
Now out in the open, Rainbow stepped into open air. The roar of the Argo’s propeller was ripped away by the whistling of the icy wind, and after a couple seconds of freefall, Rainbow spread her wings and pulled up into an easy glide.
She took a deep breath, adjusting to the shock of the cold air in her lungs as the Argo drifted gradually away. It was still moving, but she’d spent all her youth on a moving cloud city; finding the ship again later barely even registered to her as an inconvenience.
Within seconds the sound of the engine had faded into a distant buzz, and soon even that was inaudible under the gusting wind. The cold air slipped between her feathers and nipped at her hooves, but she knew how to deal with the chill of altitude.
Her wings pumped at her sides, driving her over the featureless ice and stoking the warmth of exercise in her veins. She kept her eye on the distant line where the white ice met the pale blue sky, scanning in either direction and squinting to see through the mist of her breath. She traded height for speed, looking down to scan the black faces of each craggy island as she passed for any sign of life or color.
Nothing.
Rainbow didn’t have the best sense of time, but she was intimately familiar with the strain each mile traveled put on her body. After the first ten, she tilted her wings to the right, leaning into a gentle northward turn. Was there some pattern she could discern from the islands? She knew they had to be the peaks of submerged mountains, so perhaps she could find some hint in their formation. Maybe she could find a ridgeline and go to search the valley beside it, or she could follow it until she found something.
The wind shifted, whipping her scarf across her vision, and she stopped to shake it free with a frustrated scowl. She turned a slow circle, eyeing each island carefully.
Nothing.
She gave a vicious shake of her head. Twilight was the smart one, not her! Maybe if she was here, she’d be able to find the clues Rainbow needed; maybe it was even how she’d found the way to whatever hidden key was waiting for her among the ice. Rainbow’s scowl turned to a grimace. What if the mountains were the only clue, and they’d never find where Twilight went, because Twilight was the only one smart enough to decipher it?
“No! You’re being stupid.” Rainbow shook herself before pumping her wings once more, muttering under her breath. “You’ll find her. You’re the most awesome pony in Equestria. It’s just a matter of time.”
Twenty more miles rolled beneath her, and Rainbow still saw nothing but rock and ice. She was facing east now, and the sun cast long shadows before her. For a brief, insane moment, Rainbow imagined herself as the last pony alive, a mare on an unending quest to fly the breadth of the entire Frozen North, driven to an impossible task by her unwavering determination.
Was this how the last survivors of Cloudsdale had felt? Everything she’d ever heard in the future indicated that the great cloud city had been destroyed along with the rest of Equestria, though it didn’t make much sense to her. If all these flying islands could still exist, then surely her home should’ve survived as well? Had the clouds just suddenly fallen apart, leaving all the pegasi living atop them to fly above the rising ocean until their wings grew too weak to carry them? Even if the city had been destroyed, the population should’ve been able to take refuge on the leftover clouds.
Had some traveling pegasus returned home only to find empty sky? Maybe they’d done the same thing she was doing now, flying endless circles across empty horizons, searching in vain until they finally gave in. Until they died, alone.
Finally, something caught her eye. She slowed, squinting down at what looked like a ring of small pockmarks dug into the ice around one of the rocky islands. She flew lower, and with a start she realized that what she was seeing weren’t pockmarks but the shadows of strange, round bumps sticking up.
She flew two full laps of the island as she bled altitude, observing the bumps from every angle. They looked to be covered in a layer of wet, hardened snow, though she still couldn’t make out the details of what lay hidden underneath from so high. There were no markings on the outsides or any other irregularities around them.
Taking one last look at the horizon, Rainbow swept in for a landing. The ice was slippery and shockingly cold, and she almost lost her balance before she brought herself to a stop. She kept her wings flared out for stability as she approached the nearest bump, squinting through the mist of her breath.
Although they looked relatively small from above, now that she was up close Rainbow could see that each of the strange shapes was about the size of a small Ponyville cottage. Were these what Twilight was looking for? She glanced back, raising her voice.
“Twilight? You here?”
Only the wind answered back. She shivered as the chill of the ice crept further up her legs.
Pursing her lips, Rainbow turned back to the weird, icy orb in front of her. She lifted a hoof and gave it an experimental tap.
Her ear twitched at the faint sound of the impact. Was it hollow? She leaned in, pressing her ear up to the surface.
For a moment, she thought she could hear a faint rumbling inside, but it was impossible to tell over the wind and the beating of her own pulse. Pursing her lips, Rainbow pulled her hoof back and struck the ice again, harder.
It was definitely hollow. And the rumbling had stopped.
A chill crept down Rainbow’s spine. An animal instinct reared up from the bottom of her mind, screaming its panic.
Fly!
Rainbow pushed off with all four hooves just as the ice beneath her blasted apart with an ear-splitting crunch like the breaking of bones. Heavy chunks of ice pelted her belly and her wings, throwing her into a spin, and she cried out as she smacked back into the ice and was sent sliding across the surface.
She snapped her wings out, digging the pointed ends of her blades into the ice to arrest her momentum. Using her makeshift icepicks for support, she shakily climbed back to her hooves and turned to face her attacker.
Still half-submerged in the water, all Rainbow could see was the massive pair of chipped horns sticking out of its head. A thick curtain of sleek hair drooped down over its face and much of its body, hiding the details of its form, but she could still see the pairs of blunt, hooked claws on the ends of its forelegs as it dragged itself onto the ice.
Rainbow’s eye widened as it drew up to its full height, at least three times her size. It paused, sizing her up as it drew heavy, rattling breaths. She pulled her blades out of the ice and spread her stance, waiting for it to make a move.
The beast snorted, stomping on the ice before it and sending long cracks across the surface. Rainbow’s tail lashed out behind her as she scratched at the ice with a foreleg, flaring her wings.
“You think you can scare me?!” Rainbow let her anger slip into her voice as she shouted her challenge. “C’mon! Step closer! See what happens!”
The beast roared as it charged, the ice crunching beneath it with each step as it hooked in with its long claws and threw itself forward. It moved surprisingly fast, crossing a huge distance with each bound, but Rainbow was faster. She flew up and to the side, dodging around the bloodstained tip of its horn as it tried to gore her, and raked her blade along its body.
She grinned as she felt the resistance of its flesh against her wing and heard its pained howl in her ears, only for her expression to falter as the thing dug its claws into the ice and turned on the spot. It charged her again, the thick ice spiderwebbing in its wake, and she just managed to fly up out of its reach as it passed through the air where she’d been hovering.
A sharp crunch reached her ears, and Rainbow twisted to see that the monster had embedded its horns into one of the pale orbs rising up from the ice. It snorted and stomped, sending shards of ice flying around it as it tried to free itself, but Rainbow didn’t wait for it to succeed. She snarled as she darted down onto its back, drawing another dry roar from its throat as her hooves struck the coarse flesh around its shoulders, and drew her wingblades back for a killing blow at its neck.
Just as she was about to strike, the monster jumped, forcing her to use her wings just to stay balanced atop it. Its horns remained stuck in the ice, but when its massive weight crashed back down, the ice underneath it finally gave way.
Rainbow yelped as the jolt of the impact raced up her hooves. She lowered herself against the monster’s back instinctively and, still recovering from the sudden shift, she felt icy water rising around her legs.
A shuddering gasp escaped her. It felt like her legs were on fire, and the shock of the sheer cold overwhelmed her. She blinked, and she was underwater, looking up at a jagged hole in meter-thick ice, every muscle seizing up with debilitating shivers.
No. Her hooves were caught in the knotted hair of the monster beneath her, dragging her deeper into the killing ice. I can’t die here.
Clenching her jaw, Rainbow focused on the fiery anger rising up inside her. It would be so stupid to die like this. To survive so much, to come so far, to cross such a distance searching for Twilight only to be killed by some stupid monster. It couldn’t even beat her! She’d had it dead to rights, and she wasn’t going to let it kill her on accident. She couldn’t leave her friends behind. She wasn’t going to die like this!
Bubbles flurried around her as she let out an enraged roar, channeling all her willpower into moving her wings. Her pegasus magic wrapped around her, prying the icy fingers from her bones.
It was enough to keep the worst of the shivering at bay, and Rainbow’s legs began to respond again. She pulled them free from the monster’s hair, her eye focused on the circle of light above her even as darkness crept into the corners of her vision. She pushed herself up with every limb, every muscle focused on the singular goal of raising her out from the darkness.
Something caught her tail.
Her fury redoubled. She screamed with the last of her breath, reaching back with a wing and slicing through the long rainbow hairs.
Free of any grip, Rainbow rocketed up towards the surface. A thin coat of ice had already reformed on top of the water, but she didn’t waver. She crashed through the ice and out into open air, opening her lips to gasp in a deep, freezing breath.
Rainbow tried to flap her wings and gain more altitude, but now her muscles were burning both from the cold of the water and the exertion of her escape. The best she could do was extend her wings out and try to catch the air, but the soaked feathers did little to slow her fall.
She grunted as her hooves skidded over the ice and pain flared up her legs, but the sound of ice crunching behind her promised that if she stopped she’d die. Over the chattering of her teeth, the heaving of her breath, and the rush of her blood, she heard the monster roaring behind her, and she could feel the impact of its claws as it chased her through the pale mist hanging over the ice.
Of course she could never beat the thing in a hoof race; she could feel it closing the gap with each crashing bound. She just had to stay ahead of it for long enough that she could dry her wings and take flight. She pumped them as she ran, both propelling her forward and flinging off excess moisture with every flap.
Come on, Rainbow! She shifted her weight forwards, throwing herself across the ice almost too fast for her to keep her hooves under her. You’re not dying here! You have to save Twilight! You have to kill Gava!
Her lips twisted into a snarl at the thought of the griffon’s sneering beak, and the rest of the world began to bleed away. It was just her, the monster, and the image of the creature she hated more than anything waiting in the distance, looking back with a cocky smirk.
Rainbow’s drying wings began to catch the air. Her steps became longer as each flap began to push her off the ground. The shadow of the monster’s horns fell over her.
She cried out as she set her hooves, coiled up, and jumped. A horn scraped against her leg, drawing a hiss of pain as she beat her wings and fled into the sky.
Rainbow clawed for altitude, spurred on by the ragged roars from beneath. When she finally felt safe enough to turn and look at the monster, it was jumping and stomping in frustration far below her.
It hurt to laugh, but she embraced the pain. “Hah!” Rainbow winced at the stinging in her lungs as she pointed a shaky hoof down at the thing. “T-thought you c-could c-c-catch me, huh? N-nothing can c-c-catch Rainbow D-Dash! Oh, it’s so c-c-cold!”
Rainbow grimaced as she wrapped her hooves around herself, the shivers returning to full strength now that the immediate danger was gone. With a groan of dismay she realized that she’d lost the scarf Applejack had given her during the fighting, leaving her body bare to the elements.
She really needed to get back to the Argo.
She turned a slow circle, ignoring the continued complaints of the monster beneath her. She wasn’t sure exactly what direction she’d run in after nearly drowning, or how far, but if she found the weird ice orbs then she’d be able to get her bearings. She flew higher, warming herself with the heat from her muscles.
A glow appeared on the horizon, opposite the sun.
Rainbow frowned as she focused on it, flying higher. Slowly the light seemed to lengthen, and with a blink of realization she saw that it was some kind of tall, slender structure, catching the sun’s brilliance and reflecting it back on the ice all around it.
As she climbed higher, further from the reflective ice, she began to make out more details. The strange beacon was some kind of massive spire, a facade of blue crystal towering over its surroundings. And then she saw the balloon of an airship crest the horizon, trailing tendrils of swirling purple smoke as it circled the tower.
That’s where we need to be.
Rainbow turned away sharply, her near-death forgotten as she pushed herself through the sky with fresh energy. She needed to get her bearings, get back to the Argo, and lead it here.
Twilight needed her. And Rainbow Dash never left a friend hanging.
The water was getting shallower.
Twilight hadn’t noticed it at first, so engrossed in the process of testing and note-taking as she investigated her powers of compulsion over her new pet spider. She had been brought out of her study-haze once, briefly, when Midnight noted the presence of a solitary railroad curving through the mountains, but only long enough to let her other half guide their body along the track before sinking back into her work.
She’d learned much, and after hours of relaxing experimentation and iterating a few drafts of her written findings, Twilight had finally pulled her attention back to the world around her to find that she could see the surface.
Ah, welcome back, Midnight quipped. That’s been there for almost an hour now, you know.
How long has—Twilight blinked. Oh.
Yes, I was wondering how long you’d go before finally looking up. Or perhaps noticing the light all around us.
Twilight was too focused on taking in her surroundings to bother with acknowledging the jab, and after so long with Midnight’s constant prodding in her ears she would’ve barely registered it anyway. The rails they were following hugged the mountains here, with a wall of jagged stone to her left and a sheer cliff on her right. Actual sunlight filtered down from the ocean surface, lending some color to the craggy terrain around her, and a small gasp escaped her as she spotted vibrant mounds of coral clinging to the stones. Small fish fled into hidey-holes as she passed, poking their heads out in her wake, while larger ones swam the valley to her side in sparse, scattered groups.
There were no bones or ruins here.
Where could this railroad possibly lead? she wondered. We’re so far north, beyond the furthest Equestrian border, and these mountains are so high! Who would’ve built rails on this kind of terrain with no destination?
Not a pony smart enough to survive the task. There must be something here. Most likely, it’s the very same thing that the weak princess came searching for.
She has a name, you know. Twilight shot Midnight a reproachful glance. I’d appreciate it if you used it.
Why? She is a corpse, and without any accomplishments to speak of. She does not deserve a name.
Twilight pursed her lips, but didn’t rise to the bait. Cadance isn’t dead. And she’s a good friend!
Midnight didn’t respond, but her skepticism was apparent across their mental connection. Twilight sighed.
They walked in silence for a time, observing their surroundings as they followed the rails ever higher up the mountain.
I noticed something. When you were doing your tests.
Twilight arched a brow, turning towards the spot in the side of her vision where Midnight seemed to be lying on some invisible, floating platform. Yes?
The apparition seemed strangely hesitant, looking down before speaking as if to consider her words. When you order Scylla, she responds.
Twilight cocked her head. Well, yes. I noticed that, too. I’m hoping there might be some pattern to the responses, but it’s impossible to tell with such a small sample size.
Midnight narrowed her eyes. She responds to us the same way we speak to her. In our minds. Through our darkness.
Twilight quirked her lips. Were you paying attention when I was taking notes? I already got all this.
Think, little flower! Midnight stomped a hoof, and Twilight could hear a dull thud even though there was nothing but empty water underneath it. We are able to command her with spoken orders through our darkness, and she can speak back! Remember when we fought Spike, and his own darkness made an assault on our minds?
Twilight blinked. After a few seconds, her eyes widened. You don’t think…
He was trying to dominate us, as we dominated those spiders! Midnight stood, stalking through the water to Twilight’s side. This power is not unique to us. Any of our kind are capable—or vulnerable—to the same.
But that would mean, all this time—Twilight looked into Midnight’s bloodshot eyes, seeing her own realization reflected back at her—all these monsters we’ve faced, even the seaponies—
We’ve been at risk of losing ourselves to them. Midnight nodded with a self-satisfied smirk. Now you see.
A shiver passed down Twilight’s spine. She looked back to where Scylla was following dutifully behind them and let out a thoughtful hum. Fascinating.
No! Twilight blinked, and Midnight was hovering in front of her with a frustrated scowl. Dangerous! We should kill the spider, before it attempts to manipulate us.
What? But we just got her! And I still have so many tests I can do! Twilight paused before coming up with a third, more appropriate argument. And she hasn’t done anything wrong!
Is it your pet now, little flower? You realize it only listens to your lab reports because you tell it to, yes?
Ugh! You’re being ridiculous! Twilight rolled her eyes as she stepped through her dark reflection. No matter how we feel about her, she’s useful and she’s not a threat! She can scout ahead in dangerous places, hunt for us while we—
Bah! Fine. Midnight’s cold weight settled on Twilight’s back, and she leaned in close to breathe her next words into her ear. But if the thing dares to betray us, I shall ensure it lives just long enough to regret its actions.
She’s a she! Twilight snapped. Midnight only laughed in return.
Then they crested the rise ahead of them, and Twilight drew up short.
The craggy ascent that Twilight had taken for a mountain came to a stop in a sudden plateau that stretched before her far into the distance. And in the center of that plateau, shimmering with colorful patterns of captured sunlight, was a magnificent tower of smooth blue crystal.
The railroad tracks came to a stop only a few dozen meters away from the ridge—perhaps at the site of a long-decimated train station—but Twilight paid them little mind. Without hesitation she pulled Scylla in close and channeled her magic, flinging herself across the seafloor with a crackle and a flash.
She came out of the teleport in a wide avenue paved with diamond, flanked on either side with angular buildings carved from translucent emerald, ruby, and sapphire, all twinkling with the sunlight filtered through the ice above. Rough-hewn, equine statues dotted the street, each one posed as if rearing up or galloping. They were far less polished than the rest of the city, and colored a menacing purple. Long, sharp trails of crystal jutted out to their sides, looking almost as if some painter had called them into being with pained, hurried strokes.
What is this place? Twilight gaped up at the towering palace in the center of the city, taking in the way it channeled the sunlight like a beacon before reflecting it out over the city almost like some ethereal, rainbow shield. An entire city of crystal?
This must be what we’re looking for. Midnight walked a slow circle around one of the nearest statues before jerking her head towards the palace. I can sense a powerful darkness in there, like the Beast-Queen of Canterlot, but far worse.
Twilight nodded. We’ll have to be careful. She approached the statue next to Midnight, inspecting its craftsmareship.
A chill crept down her spine. These aren’t statues.
Ah. Midnight let out a thoughtful hum. This is a powerful magic.
Now that she was close, Twilight could just make out the very real, flesh-and-blood pony encased within the jagged shell of shadowy crystal. It was difficult to pick out the precise lines of the face, but the wide, terrified eyes of the mare frozen before her caught the light with an eerie glimmer.
Are all of these—? Twilight went from statue to statue, a deepening pit of dread forming in her gut as she found a pony in each one. Some looked as if they’d been running for their lives, while others wore the grim visages of soldiers, the shapes of their helmets and spears still recognizable as they stood petrified in some ancient battle. Sweet Celestia.
We should keep moving, Midnight said, starting towards the palace. The thing that did this may still linger.
Right. With a gulp, Twilight turned to follow Midnight’s lead.
Midnight glanced back to the crystal spider chittering along at Twilight’s side. Scylla, lead us forth.
The spider chirped her assent before speeding her pace, Twilight’s magic moving unbidden to split their shield into two. Twilight shot Midnight a sideways look, but said nothing.
As they traveled deeper into the city, the petrified crystal ponies became more common, and then were joined by giant, jagged spearheads of black crystal that stabbed up out of the ground. The dark protrusions didn’t reflect any light at all, and where they disturbed the smooth diamond of the street or pierced damaged buildings alongside, even the crystal around them seemed to lose some of its luster. Twilight began to cast anxious looks over her shoulder, wary of some monster waiting in ambush, but even the pings she sent out returned only more crystal—or bodies trapped inside it.
The city was large, but the path Scylla was leading them down traced a straight line to the palace in the center, and it didn’t take long for them to reach it. Four massive vaulted legs formed a square base, with wide, towering arches on each side giving pedestrians free reign to walk under its shadow. In the very center, above where intricate patterns of multi-color crystal had been worked into the shape of a snowflake, two thin, tapering columns of crystal waited. They reminded Twilight of a stalactite and stalagmite, with perhaps a pony-sized gap between their pointed tips.
It almost felt like there should be something between them, but the space remained empty.
Scylla turned around, sensing that she had fulfilled her given objective, and returned to Twilight’s side.
Where do we go from here?
We will most likely find what we seek in the tower, Midnight suggested, looking up at the conspicuous gap. But we should prepare thoroughly before we brave it.
Twilight arched a brow at her doppelganger’s back. What, no bluster about us being unstoppable together?
Midnight’s tail flicked behind her as she let out a low growl. There is a difference between fearlessness and arrogance, little flower. If you wish to chide me for not charging into uncertain peril, then you are free to lead us into it in my stead.
Twilight pursed her lips. Sorry. It’s just unlike you.
Shaking her head, Twilight trotted to the opposite side of the tower and cast her gaze across the city. More ruins. More crystal corpses. Had even this distant, unknown corner of her world been left dead and cold by whatever fate befell Equestria?
A fuzzy shadow passed over her, and Twilight looked up. She squinted in confusion as she picked out a smooth, rounded silhouette floating lazily above the ice.
Is that… an airship?
As it turned out, taming the barons was something easier said than done.
The negotiations were taking place in a well-stocked tavern near the edge of the city, miraculously untouched by the fighting despite the burned out and collapsed ruins of its neighbors. A squad of bluecoats waited outside in a disciplined line, their rigid posture and stern faces belying the exhaustion evident in their dirtied uniforms. Baronlanders marched through the street before them, jeering and laughing and displaying the spoils they’d already looted from the city, but if the Frieslanders took any offense from the mocking, they did a fine job hiding it.
Rarity was far less skilled in such matters. She was seated on a blanketed pile of loose cobbles across the street, pointedly ignoring the soft smudges of rock dust on her white dress. She scowled at the foalish behavior on display before lifting her mug to her lips and taking an unladylike draw of cider.
It wasn’t her first choice. She would’ve preferred something smoother, perhaps a relaxing glass of wine or a daiquiri, but finding cider was infinitely easier amidst the chaos of a reorganizing army.
And after spending hours locked in a room with Governor Rhea and a trio of barons all bickering over who got what, she really needed a drink.
“Are ye well, my Lady?” Pontius stood beside her, surveying the street as if he was on guard duty. “Ye appear unwell.”
“Just tired, darling. And you know you could just call me Rarity, if you wish, hmm?” She narrowed her eyes at the tavern’s door. “I think I’ve had quite enough of titles for some time now.”
“Oh. Ah.” Pontius cleared his throat. “If it pleases ye… Rarity.”
She gave him a warm smile, and he looked away with a soft blush. “Well, if we dally out here for too much longer then we risk the peace being struck without us. Shall we?” She took one last drink before setting her cider aside and rising to her hooves.
Pontius walked by her side as she crossed the street. “To be frank, my—Rarity, only Celestia’s intervention could get the ponies in that room to come to an agreement without our aid.”
“True. But I wouldn’t be surprised if the barons got it in their heads to simply overpower Rhea and force her hoof. Brutes.” Rarity shot Pontius a sideways smirk just as the sound of Pinkie’s wheels clattering over the potholed stone caught her ear. “Oh, is Pinkie back?”
“Rarity!” Pinkie’s shrill sing-song voice gave just enough forewarning for a few idle soldiers to leap out of the way before she skidded around a corner, muzzle stretched into a wide smile, and quickly galloped up the street. “I found Fluttershy!”
On cue, Fluttershy stepped into view, much of her body and her wings hidden behind a long cloak and a young brown bear bounding along at her side. She kept her hooded head down, long mane brushing the street, as she hurried to catch up. The baronland troops all along the street shifted from boisterous merrymaking to quiet, polite conversation as she passed them, and some even stepped away from their peers to greet the blushing pegasus with gentle greetings or waves.
Pinkie drew up as if to stop, but too late. She giggled as Pontius—now somewhat familiar with her antics—braced himself and arrested her rapid approach with a quiet grunt.
Rarity was more focused on Fluttershy, however. She welcomed the pegasus with a warm smile as she walked up. “Fluttershy, darling! I do hope the siege camp wasn’t too rough on you in our absence?”
“Oh, no, thank you, Rarity,” Fluttershy answered with a demure smile. “Brownie kept me company, and the soldiers are all very nice.”
“So I see,” Rarity said, scanning the street. Although the soldiers had loudened some after Fluttershy passed, their behavior was still far from the rambunctious rowdiness it was before. She looked back to Fluttershy with a teasing smirk. “Perhaps you could explain how it is that your presence gets these troops in line when their own officers seem incapable of it?”
“They know I don’t like it being very loud, is all.” Fluttershy sat down, smiling as Brownie nuzzled himself between her forelegs. She waved to Pontius as he freed himself from Pinkie’s hug. “Hello, Pontius.”
“Lady Fluttershy.” Pontius dipped his head. “It is good to see ye’ve earned the respect of the troops so quickly.”
“Indeed it is,” Rarity agreed, “though I admit I’m somewhat surprised. No offense, dear, but truthfully I’d been rather concerned about them bullying you while you were on your own.”
The corner of Fluttershy’s smile twisted into a small grin. “And we all thought you’d be helpless when those diamond dogs dragged you into their dens, but you’re stronger than that.” She hugged Brownie against her as she looked away. “I guess, um, I can be strong, too. N-no offense.”
Rarity blinked. For a moment she was so shocked at hearing that kind of ribbing in Fluttershy’s bashful voice that she wondered if she’d imagined it. My, she’s changed so much!
But then, perhaps all of us have.
Rarity shook herself. “Well, darling, as much as I’d love to trade stories of our times apart, I’m afraid Pontius and I really must be getting back to the meeting.”
Fluttershy looked to Pinkie. “Is Pinkie not going?”
“Nope!” Pinkie blew a loud raspberry. “Those stuffy stiff-n-stuffs in there think I wouldn’t have anything meaningful to contribute! Me! Hah!”
Rarity exchanged an amused glance with Fluttershy. “Either way, I quite look forward to catching up later. Ta for now, girls!”
With one last wave, Rarity and Pontius turned for the tavern door. He stepped forward to hold it open, and she thanked him with a graceful nod before crossing inside.
With the curtains drawn shut, the door closed, and the one table remaining on the floor illuminated only by candlelight and a quietly crackling fire in the hearth, the inside of the tavern might have inspired a certain sense of dread, or perhaps mystery. Indeed, on first arrival Rarity had almost expected the negotiations to take place during some kind of masquerade ball.
But then the talking had started, and all sense of atmosphere had been promptly murdered by an endless tirade of bitter argument. That was perhaps six hours ago. And it was still going.
“Ye’re daft in th’ head if ye think I’m gonna let ye get all that t’ yerself!” Count Dane slammed a hoof against the table as he yelled. His beard was notably shorter than when Rarity saw him before the siege, the scruffy hairs charred and blackened at the tips, and he now wore a set of chainmail under his shoulder cape. “Twas my hussars that led th’ charge int’ th’ city, and ye know yer musketeers woulda been helpless without ‘em!”
Count Armet, the only baronlander at the table not wearing armor, merely arched a brow. He remained seated, but the edge in his voice was clearly audible. “Aye, yer hussars were vital t’ th’ battle, as were my musketeers, as was every soldier in th’ fight, but I’d hardly say they were irreplaceable.” He raised a hoof to cut off Dane’s heated response. “If ye were t’ speak of those truly vital, ye’d speak of my cannoneers and sappers. We’d never even reach th’ wall otherwise.”
Countess Silkie, her mussed up mane no doubt the fault of the helmet resting on the table beside her, let out a loud snort. “It’s good we’re speakin’ of vital, then. I’ll gladly accept th’ glory fer victory, considerin’ both yer armies’ve been growin’ fat on rations from my villages.”
“Bah!” Count Dane waved her away with a hoof. “We’re payin’ ye fer th’ supplies!”
“I’ll accept that argument once th’ first bits finally show up.” Silkie smirked. “Until then, ye two remain indebted t’ me.”
Governor Rhea, who’d sat quietly smoldering as the three nobles argued around her, drew attention with a forceful clear of her throat. “Perhaps it would be easier for you to decide how to split the glory once we’ve actually reached a peace agreement.”
Rarity let out a quiet sigh. Here we go again.
All three barons were offended by the suggestion, but Count Dane was the loudest. “Ye know exactly what we’re gettin’ outta th’ peace! Yer city belongs t’ us now, Frieslander!”
“If that’s what you believe,” Rhea growled, “then perhaps I should lock myself back within its inner walls and let you bleed for it.”
The counts faltered, exchanging glances with each other. Everyone in the room wanted to avoid the bloody battle that would be required in order to truly earn an unconditional surrender. Count Dane sat back down with a bitter grumble.
Rarity looked to Pontius, leaning over to whisper. “If we don’t find some way to resolve this, then they will fall back on bloodshed, and all our struggle will’ve been for naught!”
Pontius nodded gravely. “We must somehow satisfy the barons without destroying the city.” He pursed his lips, glancing back towards the door. “If only my father was here. The others hold much respect fer him, and he could stop their petty bickering.”
“Couldn’t you speak for him?” Rarity asked. “As his heir, you must hold some sway.”
Pontius grimaced. “I might, aye, but they don’t respect me as ye do. They see me as a child. Nothing I say would be taken as my father’s word.”
“But we know you’re no child, don’t we?” Rarity gave him an encouraging smile. “I suspect your father would love nothing more than for you to step out of his shadow and become your own stallion, and after what we’ve been through in the city, I have faith that you’re ready for that.”
Pontius blanched. “But… Rarity, what I do doesn’t matter. It’s how they see me.”
Rarity stifled a giggle into her hoof. When she looked up the young pegasus was looking down with a fierce blush, and she pulled him into a reassuring hug, bringing her muzzle to his ear. “What you do is far, far more important than how ponies see you, darling. And you should never let the latter influence the former.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before pulling back to look him in the eye. “Now, follow my lead.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond before turning away and approaching the table. If he had any lingering doubts in his mind, she expected his chivalry would spur him into motion once she’d put herself under the spotlight.
She greeted the table with her most polite smile. “I do hope I haven’t missed too much in my brief absence. Have we made any progress?”
“We’ve lost progress,” Governor Rhea said, glaring at the barons. “As usual, it seems baron greed can’t even wait for a peace to be struck before they begin squabbling over who gets which slice of the corpse.”
Count Armet scoffed. “These are important parts of th’ negotiation! How can any of us agree t’ peace when we cannot be assured that we’ll be properly compensated fer our losses?”
“Compensated?” Rhea echoed acidly. “You besieged my city! It’s far from our obligation to compensate you for your trouble!”
“Darlings, please.” Rarity lifted a hoof, cutting off what she could tell was yet another pointless circular argument. “You came here for Nettlekiss, did you not? And I’m sure the Governor is more than willing to withdraw her protection.” She shot a pointed look at Rhea. “Right?”
Her lips tightened, but she nodded. “I am. My cousin is not worth my city.”
“And we would’ve been happy t’ leave ye t’ yer walls if ye’d done as much when we arrived,” Countess Silkie said, pointing a hooftip at the city mare. “But ye challenged us, and ye forced us t’ spend blood fer yer compliance, so now reparation must be made. ‘Tis not an unreasonable claim.”
I suppose we’re all ignoring the fact that the Frieslanders lost lives too, then. Rarity shot Rhea a sympathetic glance, but didn’t voice the thought. It would only make the peace between the two sides even more tenuous that it already was.
“I can understand your want for… reparations,” Rarity said, trying to hide her disdain at the idea of the aggressors being paid for their actions. “But surely there’s no need to butcher the city for it!”
“Butcher it? Nay.” Count Dane shook his head. “But th’ only way t’ ensure we’re paid what we deserve is t’ take th’ city fer ourselves. Ye’d have t’ be mad t’ trust a Frieslander t’ pay ye a fair earnin’!”
“What if there wasn’t a Frieslander in charge?” Rarity suggested. She walked around the table as she spoke, subtly giving Pontius a pointed look while all eyes were on her. “A baronlander could supervise the city, ensuring you receive your compensation—” she looked to Rhea “—without bleeding it dry.”
Armet let out a thoughtful hum. “But with whom could we entrust th’ task? Any one of us, or our vassals, would be sure t’ favor one party unfairly.”
“I shall do it.”
All eyes turned to Pontius. He stood firm, meeting the skeptical and suspicious gazes leveled on him. Rarity gave him a reassuring smile when he looked to her.
“Young Pontius?” Countess Silkie asked curiously. “What do ye know of runnin’ a province?”
“And how could we trust ye t’ pay us fairly?” Count Dane added, his suspicion clear in his tone.
“Have I ever been known to lie to ye?” Pontius asked, meeting the older stallion’s stare. “Ye all know me to be an honest pony, and I give ye my word to lead the city justly. I’m not some puppet fer my father, but even though he’s not here, I can speak fer him on this matter.” Count Dane leaned back with a grunt, and Pontius turned to the other nobles. “Duke Titus has no wish to destroy the city, or to loot it, but to ensure the benefits of its resources can be felt all across the island.
“It’s true that I’m not as experienced as many of ye in these matters, but my father’s taught me much, and I’m well capable of learning from the city ponies.” He glanced to Rhea before continuing. “I’m sure the governor would be more than willing to assist in an advisory position.”
After a brief hesitation, Rhea nodded. “I would.”
“Hmm.” Silkie leaned in, crossing her hooves on the table. “But if we cannot take th’ city fer ourselves, then what does it offer us in return fer our losses?”
“Shares,” Rhea answered quickly. “We can grant you shares in our largest guilds. Our wealth will be yours.”
“Shares?” Armet echoed, looking around the table in confusion.
Silkie rolled her eyes. “It means ye get th’ profit, but ye don’t have t’ manage it. It’s a good deal. It has my support.”
Count Dane snorted. “What worth is guild profits t’ an honest baron lord? I want land!”
“You can get your land from my cousin,” Rhea countered. “Or the fields around the city. But you won’t get a single inch within our walls without fighting for it.”
Count Armet nodded. “Guild shares’re quite valuable, Dane. We’ll get more in th’ long run than we ever would from lootin’ th’ city center.”
“Bah! Fine.” Count Dane leaned back with a scowl. “But if th’ city doesn’t give what’s promised, I’ll be holdin’ th’ two of ye accountable.”
For a moment, the table lapsed into silence. Rarity, who had been watching the exchange with bated breath, finally spoke. “So we are agreed, then?”
Silkie nodded. “Aye. Unless any of ye have last objections?” After waiting to receive nods of assent from everyone at the table, the countess looked back to the bar, where a single bespectacled unicorn sat in silence. “Whitehorn! Draft th’ treaty, just as we’ve discussed it. I’ve had enough of this place fer today. Shall we convene here again on th’ morrow?”
“It suits me,” Armet said, rising to stretch his legs. “Fer now, I bid ye all farewell.”
With a quick bow across the room, Armet made for the door. Silkie was close behind, pausing beside Pontius to give him a reassuring pat and smile before following the other noble outside. Dane was the last to leave, his messy beard twitching as he grumbled under his breath with every step.
Rhea stood as well, looking to Pontius. “You meant what you said, about keeping me on as an advisor?”
He nodded. “I’m sure ye know much about the running of the city that I wouldn’t. Yer exile would only cause the city needless harm.”
“You see, darling?” Rarity offered up a tentative smile. “Surely this peace is better than the alternative.”
Rhea pursed her lips. “In that regard, only time will tell.”
The governor’s shoulders sagged as she made for the door. She paused as she reached it, took a deep breath, and raised her head high before stepping outside.
Finally, the table was empty. Rarity exchanged a proud glance with Pontius before turning to Whitehorn, who was nursing a clear glass of whiskey he’d poured for himself at the bar.
“You can write the deal, right?” she asked. “Do you think any of them will back out?”
He smiled before giving a small shake of his head. “No, my Lady. I expect all that remains is the formalities of signing. Aside from some last damages from the more opportunistic baron troops… the city is safe.” He raised his glass to her in toast. “Nettlekiss will see the wisdom of surrender once her Friesland support pulls out. Thanks to you, the island will be at peace once more.”
“Goodness.” Rarity let out a shaky breath as her hind legs dropped out from beneath her, and she leaned against Pontius for support. “I—we came so close to disaster. Perhaps it’s silly of me, but somehow I keep expecting some new crisis to arise and throw us into the fire once more.”
Whitehorn snorted. “Even if that were to happen, we could face it. We make a good team.”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose we do.” Rarity glanced up towards Pontius. “We all do.”
For a moment, none of them said anything. Pontius rested a hoof over Rarity’s, and she didn’t pull it away.