The Scramble for Equestria (A Pre-EAW Story)

by Radical Centrist

THE BI-ANNUAL AFFAIRS: 1888

These are trying times, for you all at least! Us publishing companies have always been in 'tried' times burdened by all those taxes! (Not to mention all those unlicensed communists that leach off our sales!)

-And you are probably all scared, confused and questioning whether you angered your god to deserve such a punishment like this. Or not. Or maybe you are currently contemplating if you are even alive or not!

Luckily for you, dear readers, regardless of what is currently floating your fear-laden boats! We have the means to tow it to shore safely, for we, The Times publishing company and Punch Magazine, alongside innumerable other reputable paper companies have partnered to deliver the crazy happenings of today and the foreseeable crazier tomorrow!

So expect the usual satires and comedy expected from Punch Magazine and especially await our informative style from Time's newspapers! While some of you 'intellectual' viewers may pale at the addition of Punch's contents, which 'your' kind regard as an appeal to the brainless masses, therefore unpalatable to your oh-so refined tastes, believe us, you will appreciate their presence soon enough. After all, some comedic relief in our current sea of endless despair, fear and confusion is an astronomical relief for our poor, exhausted logical psyche.

Finally, news from France gives us an anchor to latch ourselves onto, giving us a firmer grasp on our ever-loosening grip on reality! For it can be recorded today; correspondent to our prior records, proving our space-time continuity, as the presumably 67th Paris Commune was declared, surprisingly far later than expected, but occurred nevertheless 2 weeks after what we and others dubbed, 'The Great Change.'

In another bonus of relieving familiarity, the Paris Commune was resoundingly defeated by the nearby French garrison, whose soldiers, according to local newsletters and journalists, 'flew' into the city. That's right! We have the fantastical ability of flight! -For which so many before us have coveted for and fantasised for, like our philosophical titans, the Greeks! -It's not all positive though! As we will shortly discuss the limitations levied by our governments, so keep on reading!

As usual, the descriptions of the battle follow the same usual mahogany: Fiery youths, mostly from universities, rampage along the city streets. They shout about some mundane jargon about inequality or oppression. They flash weaponry. They threaten the existing order while destroying property in abandoned restraint. The poor, confused citizenry fled. The army is called, they unleash a swift volley and the misguided youths scatter, restoring order.

A caricatured drawing of the events that transpired in Paris is shown below. The 'rebel,' is depicted as being a young, presumably foolish teenager, considering his baggy, poorly-maintained oversized Napoleonic-style uniform.

He is shown kneeling, begging at an adamant soldier while showing an overexaggerated expression of cowardice and youth for clemency. The latter is shown resolutely pushing the teen away with an overstretched arm, pushing against their face. A rifle is held in his other hand, its barrel smoking suggesting casualties on the 'insurrectionist's' side.

Caption:
Revolutionary: "Please! Spare my life!"
French Soldier: "Worry not! I wouldn't want to take away your father's right to beat your arse!"
Sorry for the cheesy dialogue. The magazines back in the day had really primitive humour. Not terrible, per say, but pretty generic.

Peculiarly, the caricatures drawn still illustrate humans, despite their new 'physiology'. It seemed the artists of the magazines were still adapting.

We have been blessed with wings! -Or probably cursed with them. We at Times-Punch & others Publishing, or 'TPP' for short, are inclined to believe the latter, if the heading wasn't obvious enough.

Why?

Well first, read the heading again and ask yourselves why... No? Still no clue? Oh, you uncultured swine! -Have you not heard of the famous Greek tale? What are our schools for?! They're supposed to teach you this!

Not to worry, for we will summarise the story so:

Icarus. Fellow of Daedalus. Wax wings. Flew too high. Melted his wings. Fell to his death. Boo-hoo.

Although a myth, it tells us an ever-relevant lesson in restraining our temptations! Especially now, -since we now really have wings! Not wax, yes. But we can still fly with them!

While so far, flying too high hasn't caused our gooses to combust into flames, or melt our wings, it is our humble opinion that we should not be trying to test out our limits. At least not so soon, or without prior training.

But first, we are obligated to inform you of all of the reasons against the said practice from our governments. We pray you do not chafe nor grumble at this news, for we also agree with the following measures to safeguard your, and other's safety. SO HEED IT.

All reasonable rules, right? We wouldn't want anyone crashing full-speed into buildings, would we? Or god-forbid, other people! Who would wipe clean all those twice-big blood stains?!

Now, with the common sense from the government aside, we at TPP believe that while those 12 13 points are to be abided by strictly, we are of the opinion that it is as far as the governments should intervene in regards to flight rules.

Now, this doesn't mean we endorse anarchy! Far from it, as we believe that the people should decide what other 'laws' should be added. Actually, not really 'laws', but rules. Unspoken, unwritten rules.

Our 'wings' are not some artificial construct that can be regulated by some, central, overbearing government! Like how we learnt how to use our limbs to write, walk and manipulate on our own*, we should have the Liberty to create further rules, guides and lessons for the use of our wings!

*Context: Charles Darwin's "On the Origins of Species," published in 1859, had already been widely accepted by the time and the fact that we evolved from apes was generally accepted by the wider populace and especially among intellectuals for obvious reasons.

Their 'Ministry of Aeronautics, Airspace, Flight and other Airborn Businesses' ugh, we'll just call it the MAAFAB. Even saying its name is irritable! It is just another ploy by the noble cronies and groupies from London to fill up their own coffers and fatten themselves with our hard-earned coins by nepotistically appointing their own sons or friends into positions of government! -Positions they created! -Which will do nothing at its best, and its worst, debilitate us!

So down with the wage-thieves! We must rid ourselves of yet another meaningless money-sinking institution!

We have the utmost confidence the people will create far more in-depth regulations on flights! -Through norms and familial rules!

We cannot expect the people to listen to the government like Daedalus expected Icarus to listen to a higher authority, himself. We, the familiar of Icarus must discipline ourselves with restraint. Only then, will we achieve the natural evolution into casual flight.

...Is what a raggedly dressed man said a day ago, as he near-assaulted, and at best, harassed the citizens of London to... Touch the clouds?

An inspiring quote sure, like we didn't hear it from our fathers enough... But he was right!... Not our fathers, but the dishevelled man! WE CAN TOUCH THE CLOUDS!

It wasn't long until everyone nearby then those around them, UNTIL THE WHOLE OF LONDON were flying up to grab a piece of the clouds! Biting them, moulding them; hell, some even managing to turn them into rainclouds! Some of the creative ones even zapped themselves! But like all good things with a lot of demand, it was short lived, as all the clouds above London ran out! I know! An impossibe, achieved!

But not all could participate in this 'great experiment', as many among us without wings could only watch on with jealousy in the quickly dampening streets of London.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be not all fun and games, as some of the well-read intellectuals of London were literally foaming at the mouth, -a common sight to all by now, no doubt.

Babbling incoherently, too-fast, something about how "Clouds aren't meant to be that low," "How are you condensing them so fast into rainclouds," "Making lightning isn't that easy-, my god what if we use them for power?!" and other self-monologues, at least according to the interviews and testimonies of passer-byes.

As usual, by now, several coppers arrived at the scene with their-now standard equipment straight-jackets to escort any intellectuals undergoing mental breaks into a mental asylum, hopefully, temporarily.

There, they could not disrupt the ignorant bliss and tranquillity normal folks had confined themselves to, or potentially kill themselves in despair. However, unexpectedly, most of those in 'brain-shock' that day recovered quickly, many when interviewed, citing that their previous experiences with said ailment and their supposed "Abandonment of any semblance of logic and reality," had allowed them to recover in record time.

The journalists of our publisher are proud of them. They have adapted well.

But if you or your loved ones are experiencing similar ailments and are not recovering, do not lose hope! Local churches are now distributing cannabis to assist any 'highly logical' people to 'normalise,' however, due to the lack of manufacturing capacity caused by demand, most will need to be smoked raw instead of being taken orally as pills!

In the aftermath, only one straight jacket would need to be used, and one permanent reservation to room Z-G-D-1304 of the recently expanded London Mental Institution booked.

Strangely enough, it would be the ragged man to be detained. He had the audacity to trade-mark touching clouds! Sure enough, he would be quickly restrained, muzzled and carried away, never to menace our society ever again, we hope.

A caricature of a plucked chicken in a patchy-holed business suit is shown, his eyes wild and unfocused, his wings and legs flailing wildly between two coppers whose backs are turned and are holding the straight jacket in place.

Caption:
Insane Person: "I TRADE MARK THE SUN! THE AIR! THE CLOUD!"
Copper 1: "Hey, where's his lion-half?"
Copper 2: "Huh? Isn't this the escaped cock?"

The brightest minds of Oxford, Cambridge and other prestigious schools, including notable individuals and intellectuals all over Britain and beyond convened today, of all places, the London's St Paul's Cathedral. Their purpose being, to discuss the questions we have all been asking! -Thankfully! We've got some responses...

Unfortunately... They're the farthest from 'answers', especially considering the 'questionable' quality of their recorded responses, which calls into question their mental faculties and their current right to hold their positions in our most notable educational institutions.

We did not lie when we dubbed this convention the 'Highest Debate'... Not only due to its significance and future repercussions... But also because of the Liberal use of cannabis during the meeting, abundantly made available by the churches, especially common in a Cathedral.

I mean, you really can't blame them. They are all coping best they can, and while some of you viewers may revel and feel pompous by the fact that you don't need to rely on some vice due to your perceived mental fortitude.

You must remember, no offence, that these minds that have gathered today are instrumentally smarter than any of you viewers, and therefore are more prone to insanity due to the sheer amount of information they process everyday.

Due in part to this, while you, the viewer, may process one problem at a time, these intellectuals notice every imperfection at once. Apparently, that is enough to break them.

While you may rightfully consider that a flaw, you must recognise that these very same complex minds have advanced our societies instrumentally, and so, you should not slander them, for they turn our societies 'round.

The meeting went very smoothly, with only one brief distraction occurring when a desperate priest barged in, fearing a fire in the Cathedral due to the massive billowing of smoke out of the openings.

...

Barely anyone yelled during the convention. Every individual participating acted most properly, allowing others to speak in turn and every 'topic' was concluded with an orderly vote to determine any given side's victory. Who knew it only took some funky-looking green leaves to turn everyone so civil?

To reflect this civility, we have taken the liberty to bless you, the readers, an excerpt of a discussion regarding whether we should still be referred to as humans.

To spare the speaker from embarrassment, we have shrewdly chosen to not disclose anyone's name from this discussion.

Here it is:

"Hey man... If we are, like. Souls and shit, since y'know the experiment, and shit, y'know? Figuring out that, y'know, we're more than just our bodies an' shit, y'know? And we think, y'know, or, I guess, associate an' shit with humanity and all that with our souls y'know, with god, jesus, spirit, body and all that y'know, it would be weird to call ourselves something entirely out of our realm man, 'humans' aren't our humanic avatar man, we are the soul, -hang on, I already said this, shit, -ah... Right. We think humans are us. Not human equal body. We still human because we, us y'know?"

"Naw-naw! We're minds, not souls man. But I see your point, in like, saying that we don't call the vessels of our minds, y'see, as humans, but the mind itself, like, being the brain as humans, so probably, possibly, maybe, it would probably mean, like it changes really nothing, since like, we're still us in our brains an' shit, y'know?"

"Yeah, yeah, bruv. An' we can say hands and claws as same right?"

"-Hooves as well, right bruv?"

"Yeee, fuckit, nofftthing makes sense anywahis."

...

Here at TPP, we wish them all good health, and hope for their immediate recovery to their usual selves.

Hear, hear the unicorns of Britiain and beyond, FOR WE HAVE FAN-BLOODY-TASTIC MAGIC! It is definitely going to be a hot topic among the church, whose millennia-old doctrine against paganistic rituals and beliefs in magic will presumably make them an enemy against investigating our powers, which, so far, can only be described as being 'magical'.

But the true losers will definitely be our scientists, whose poor, abused minds will be further bombarded by this sudden revelation.

It first began as a rumour. News of disparate people levitating small objects with glowing horns had begun at first, being met with disbelief, and sometimes a recommendation to a room in the nearest mental asylum, but far too numerous reports of such happenings have confirmed it! WE GOT MAGIC! We are specifically talking about unicorns.

While many scientists had suspected something of the sort, but never fully admitted to it being 'magic', but instead, referred to it as an 'unknown influence/variable'. They used said term to explain the impossibility of the pegasus among us in being capable of flight, despite their comparably small wing-body size ratio.

Extremely preliminary tests that have now been published, therefore, we have access to, describe the processes by which pegasus seems to be able to fly. They explain that by the use of some 'unknown influence/potential', the pegasus can create an updraft of air beneath their wings to become airborne. It would be later discovered in the same study that griffons use a similar process to fly, albeit with less of that elusive 'unknown potential' due to their comparably larger wings.

Now, the proponents of said published study are justifying that, through the use of the same 'unknown potential', unicorns are able to perform what people report as 'magical miracles'. This has created further discussions on whether every other species that we have been transformed into can perform similar 'miracles' by utilising the vexing 'unknown potential'.

Thankfully, already several new terms superior to the mouthful 'unknown potential' have been forwarded by the scientific community and the public at large. The most popular is 'Werg', a primitive root of other words such as the Greek term, 'Ergon' that roughly translates 'to do'.

We at TPP are confused as to why calling something 'magical' could be so frustrating for the intellectuals of our society, but we will humour them in calling it whatever they want, as long as they continue to churn out their fantastical inventions.

Before the rumours were even confirmed of our newfound abilities among our unicorn brethren, it seemed secret societies had already been formed to practise said 'Werg' out of prying eyes.

In contrast, flight seems to have been seamlessly adopted by the people at large due to its sheer usefulness and wastefulness of not exercising it as a means of transportation. We even have scant reports that armies all over Europe are creating entire divisions of airborne soldierly.

The Vatican has been unusually silent about all the happenings in Europe, as no expected condemnation of practising 'Werg' (Not magic!) has been declared by Pope Leo XIII, not even by his Cardinals.

To some Catholics, this is expected, due to Leo XIII's reputation as an intellectual who espouses free-thinking. However, the great silence is still greatly unexpected for an institution that only a few hundred years ago, was demanding the lynching and burning of 'witches'.

We at TPP suspect this is but a farce, a tactic. Delaying to first gauge the populace's reactions before announcing something that would mindlessly please them. Thankfully, we are no Catholics, so we will spared from the Pope's insulting pandering.

Regardless, this leaves a problem of what should be done with these mysterious societies. First, we would like to acknowledge that this discussion is far exceeding our pay grade, but we believe it is our sacred duty to you, to inform our audience and protect them from any possible dangers an external group may pose to them. In achieving this goal, we shall most generously inform you of the activities of such one 'Werg' society, as one of our journalists had been able to infiltrate and record their actions.

Said infiltrator will remain anonymous for good reasons! For what we will describe warrants it! -But most importantly! Do not doubt our words and make our brave journalist's efforts be in vain!

It all seemed like a bad dream. Like I had been somehow sent back in time, something not in the farthest of my speculations considering our latest transformation.

But I had reminded myself such was not the case. Where else would we find such fine porcelain other than modern Britain? At least that remained in the near-pagan room I found myself in, for even those pretending to be Gaels of England's long past could not resist a good cup of tea.

I at first thought I had wandered into a nudist society, as they had barbarously forfeited their clothes in favour of wandering naked in the darkly lit room. I cannot imagine the amount of sensual chafing and bumping that could've transpired! Thankfully, I had withdrawn from the practice, comfortingly alongside several other 'initiates'.

But most outrageous of all, they had allowed women to participate in this uncouth activity! Such a scandalous act, especially naked, will see all members shunned! I would see to it when I eagerly left, although, I had not shown it in an effort of secrecy.

It was a most surreal display though, when I still stayed. All the 'willing' participants had their bodies engraved with fierce paints, reminding me of the Gaels the Romans described while on our petite Island. But it seemed quite messily done, expected of such uncouth individuals, but also, it seemed, because our furs proved unwilling canvases of paint.

They danced wildly in what they described as 'rituals', apparently instructed from sparse parches of papers which the 'elders' among the societies swore they could read.

I miraculously held a laugh as they tried the best they could to somehow perform this 'ritual' while on all-fours. Some, I swore, were just flopping like a loose fish in a port market.

Utterly preposterous! I thought, for even the most daft scholar of Gaelic history knew the elders of old Briton had to know their scriptures by memory alone. But this was no surprise to me, for in my brilliance, I had already figured these savages for the pretenders they were long ago.

The only occurrence that impressed me was the action of a quite daring lady. Fair, she looked. I and many others still did not know how we could measure beauty considering our new physiology, but this was no time to contemplate, for she was, indeed, pretty at the moment.

Even in the darkness, her coat shined a beautiful deep sky blue, accompanied by a swept mane of a lighter complexion that striped in different shades horizontally. Her looks were accentuated by two rare purple eyes that twinkled with two silver specks that determinedly fought the darkness for attention.

What really caught my attention, however, was the identical engraving-? On either side of her flanks. They were decorated with a 5-pointed star, silver in colour. With closer inspection, it was attached to a thin wand of sorts. It seemed to be painted on with great detail, for they, as described, were identical and intricately detailed.

She confidently announced her name, fascinatingly speaking in third-person, momentarily reminding me of the habits of a certain great Caesar. But she was the least of his familiar, as she spoke with an unmistakable Highlander accent. Perhaps an appeal to Gaelic roots, but from her proficiency, I wagered it was not pretend.

She declared her apparent superiority and everyone around me seemed more than happy to flatter her with eager ears and lack of objections. I, meanwhile remained silent, as it was a duty as a gentleman like myself to listen patiently, especially to a lady, regardless of their hysteria.

Imagine my surprise when she proved she wasn't all-talk! For her 'Werg' wasn't just limited to unimpressive levitation nor illumination, as she impossibly misappropriated herself from one place of the room to another in but a flash!

Before I could even fathom the possibility of such an action through so-called 'smoke and mirrors', she, giving us little rest, managed to change the colours of all of our manes!

I became horrified, for I had grown to appreciate my golden mane that fitted well with my albino coat, making me the picturesque representation of the unicorn that presided within our glorious coat of arms. But now, it had become deathly black in colour, which, with hindsight, had elicited an overbearing reaction on my part.

It did not help that the fair lady was all-laughs now. It was only marginally better than her previous all-id* attitude.

Worst of all, I had no one to sympathise with since it seemed I was the only one who had been be 'attached' to my mane. I would have to last out the entire meeting with a scowl on my face, a growing worry manifesting in my conscience as my mane refused to revert in colour, regardless of time passed.

It was only at the end, that the alleged 'Great and Powerful' 'sorceress' would revert our colourisation. I cared little of those around me who sought the continued 'blessing', as I moved to quickly leave, only for the fair lady to suddenly transpose herself in front of me.

After an expected reaction from me, for a man suddenly being stopped by a lady suddenly appearing in a flash before them, she again laughed at my very ordinary reactions.

Why tell you all this? Because she, quite weirdly, as she is, informed me and the others of her intention to depart alongside the planned expedition organised, by one, Benjamin Disraeli.

I was confused of this, but considering everyone else's reactions, it seemed that the fair lady was a frequenter of this society, and probably an important member, as they bid their hesitant farewells and regret at her departure.

To prevent possible corruption of our great soldiery, I have informed my contacts to the admiralty to prevent any ladies of the features as I described them from entry into any expedition. For the interests of the British Empire, I implore any readers with similar connections to do the same!

We are not blind! Our government seems to have thought gathering hundreds of thousands of men along with ships, gun pieces and provisions will go unnoticed by the masses!

For those still unaware, the House of Commons has seemingly approved of a massive expedition from their last meetings. The destination? We do not know, but we are assured by the officials on the ground who are happy to talk that it is no war fleet.

Why the government is trying to launch an expedition in these troubled times, we do not know. You can be assured that we, too, also despair about the disappearance of provisions and goods that would be desperately needed at home, going somewhere we do not know. Some say in the docks that they are embarking on an exploration. Utterly wasteful, we should say, for this is no time for adventuring! All efforts should be focused at home, not wasted offshore for some fool's dream!

So march into your local docks! Protest these vanity projects organised by those snobbish nobles! Breach the lines and liberate the goods stocked in the ships! Don't you want to prevent starvation?! Do you want to save hour families from poverty?! Then do as we say and march alongside us! Towards the docks to stop the madness!

First off, we would like to apologise for the recent publication. Both to our valued audience and the most honourable members of government. It seems a messy rabble of Socialists had infiltrated our major distributors to circulate their drabble at large to our beloved London public.

In light of this, we plead for our audience to ignore the recent messages and again, we profusely apologise for what had transpired. We at TPP shall work to further increase the securities within our publishing centres. You can be assured that this will never happen again.

Furthermore, please dismiss any absurdist rumours or claims that the very same Socialists have spread about us. That somehow the TPP have conspired to monopolise the publishing industry or has cooperated with the government to control popular sentiments or opinions. These claims are all unfounded and have no basis in reality, like the mouths that spoke them!

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For those who are still worrying, especially since the Socialist's fearmongering of the preparing expedition, do not be. We would first like to pass on the word from the House of Commons, that they had no intentions of hiding the expedition.

Of course, they wouldn't, for in these trying times, trust is more precious than gold, and our most honourable members of the government would not dare break the sacred bonds that hold our fabric of society together.

To respect this bond, we, the people should repay the favour by trusting our officials wholeheartedly, and believing that whatever they are planning will ultimately prove to be our salvation. This is no time for division! So we must not doubt, but trust our fellow man!

Speaking of a trustworthy man, the most honourable Lord Disraeli and Sir Gladstone have appointed the best among us all! -SIR FLASH! Or professionally, Sir Harry Paget Flashman, to head one of the Western expeditions leaving from the ports of Plymouth.

As always, we have asked for an interview with the prestigious Sir Flash; the foremost charger of the light brigade, defender of Piper's fort, hero of Custer's land stand and victor of Islandlwana! But most unusually, he refused to talk, instead being diverted to a government-appointed aide. Said aide spoke of how the now-world-renowned hero of Britain, especially among the ladies, had valiantly volunteered himself to head one of the three expeditions to discover virgin land.

By our guess, he did so to add to the recently-empty possessions of the British Empire, for we have lost the crown jewel of the Empire! -Only left with its loyal soldiers who seem to have been transported with their new-mother nation.

We pray for Sir Flash's success and foremost his safety. His success? We are assured of that fact. He will need no prayers to bring prosperity to our people, for that is a pre-determined guarantee! We simply pray he would not go the way of Admiral Nelson.

A band of Greek irredentists, claiming to be acting independently have taken over the government offices of Istanbul, formerly the capital of the Ottoman Empire. The latter's sovereignty has all but disintegrated ever since the 'great transformation', its great holdings within the Middle East and Africa having vanished.

This seems to have emboldened these hot-headed radicals to proclaim the restoration of Constantinople, with very little fanfare or resistance from the substantial Greek local population. These 'independent liberators' then subsequently requested for the government in Athens to formally annex their territories, presumably wanting it to return as their capital.

Predictably, the power brokers of the Balkans, namely Russia and the Austria-Hungarian Empire have unanimously denounced this blatant attempt at a land grab. Russia especially has decried the Greeks, forgoing the subtleties that the convention the emperor of Austria-Hungary had proposed would provide, to directly dispute the claims of the Greeks for their former capital.

This is quite predictable. Ever since Peter 'The Great' had declared that every Tzar of Russia should "Take Constantinople," the subsequent heads of state had drooled for it like rabid dogs to claim that legacy. We are simply surprised that they are displaying this desire so shamelessly.

We are still yet to hear an official response from the Greek government. Perhaps they may forever be silent? Abandoning those rowdy 'liberators' to the fate of the Russian bear. Time will tell.