//------------------------------//
// Chapter 28 
// Story: Sharing the Nation 
// by Cast-Iron Caryatid 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 28


 —  Candesca — 


Of all the things that Celestia Candesca had thought that she'd see in her lifetime, cute pink pony-sized dragons in maid uniforms had not been on the list.

Well, no, that was a lie.  Of all the things that Celestia had thought that she'd see in her lifetime, cute pony-sized dragons in maid uniforms had not been on the list—and she'd been right.  Candesca, on the other hoof, was another matter entirely, and in the short time since her genesis they'd been working towards—or at least hoping for—something like this.

She just hadn't expected the realization of that goal to come with a realization about herself, or for it to be so... eye-catching.

Apparently, though, being half dragon came with more than an off-putting appearance; it also came with hormones and the awareness that her appearance wasn't off-putting at all, nor was that of the new help.

It figured, really, that Discord's little addition to Celestia's attempt at balancing the scales in that regard had managed to change the stakes entirely.

Of course, it wasn't as if Corona wasn't also... not off-putting.  She was certainly anything but, if she did say so herself—but that was just the thing; Corona was essentially herself, and it would be a while yet before she would be able to see her as anything else.

Besides, even if she did see Corona like that, it probably wouldn't help the current matter any.  Really, though; yes, she'd been involved in the decision to put the dragons in skirts in order to make them seem less threatening, but who had decided to make them look so... whatever that was.

Admittedly, the first impression she'd had on first seeing one of them had not been any kind of terror, so maybe it was working.

What, precisely made the uniform seem so scandalous, Candesca wasn't quite certain.  There was something, she was sure, but neither ponies or dragons typically wore clothes and it wasn't as if bits and saddles were involved, so she was coming up blank.

Then again, it might just be her.

Candesca's eyes were finally torn away from the dragon maid dusting the throne room windows by Corona storming into the room and then stopping mid-step, poleaxed at the sight.

Well, okay; it was not just her, clearly, though she wasn't certain that that counted.

Corona's wandering eye was shaken loose by the passing of a pony in armor, which wouldn't normally be something of note save for the fact that pony guards were few and far between in the castle these days, their numbers still recovering from the recent shocks, and the fact that this pony was not a guard, nor were they wearing the traditional golden plate of such.

No, the pony in question was another maid, this one wearing an armored petticoat in stark contrast to her draconic co-worker, perhaps as protection from her draconic co-worker.

Well, whatever it took to keep the castle staffed, she supposed.

Corona and Candesca met each other's eyes in essentially the same moment, no doubt having taken just about the same amount of time to come to the same conclusion, though Corona still had a look of displeasure about her.

"Is something the matter?" Candesca asked, making an effort to keep her eyes on her twin and not anywhere else in the room.

It wasn't nearly as useful for avoiding distractions as she might have hoped, given the places her mind had gone in the last few minutes.

Corona, for her part, didn't seem to notice and she resumed her irate strut, though it was somewhat subdued by the momentary preoccupation.

"Quite," she said, stepping up the dais and taking a seat on her recently commissioned throne, the pair of them having been made from melting down the previous Celestia's throne.  "I was using my light to check on several matters, and what I saw was... concerning."

"You're more than concerned," Candesca observed.  "In fact, I'd say you are quite heated over whatever it was.  Has something happened at the lair of the once dragon lord?"

Corona shook her head.  "No, no.  That is one of the locations that I looked in on, but things there remain quiescent.  It's news from Ponyville that has me worried and rather displeased.  Specifically, that of Spike and his friends... and Ember and her friends."

Candesca took the meaning of Corona's phrasing immediately.  "Oh dear," she remarked.  The personal implications of such a rift were concerning, of course, but the personal problems of ones who decide to call themselves an empress tended to become problems for everyone—and this, right when they were trying to make her a role model for integration.  "How bad is it?"

Corona couldn't seem to sit still, so she got up from her throne and began to pace.  "Do you recall that time when Lulu couldn't find the harp that Princess Opal gave her, so she blamed me—or rather, she blamed us...  That is to say, she blamed Celestia?"

Candesca winced, placing a hoof over her side where, of course, no scar remained, nor had there been for over two thousand years.  "That bad?"

"Somewhere between that and Nightmare Moon," the sister with the rainbow mane deadpanned, earning her a raised eyebrow from Candesca since it was quite unlike them.  "Yes, I suppose that is hyperbole, but seeing as she used the Ring of Ashmund and attacked them outright—though it was short-lived—you can see why I might be agitated."

"Is there something you think we should do?" Candesca asked.

Corona stopped to think, then shook her head and sat back down.  "No, and perhaps that is the real reason that I am agitated," she said with a sigh.  "Spike did the right thing to walk out, and it is heartening that he is not alone.  Perhaps they will reconcile their differences once Ember has calmed down.  Nothing unforgivable was said, so it may well be that nothing comes of this in the end.  Still, it is... vexing that I cannot even send a letter of support."

"You're not Celestia, you know, and neither am I," Candesca reminded her.  "You don't have to behave in every way that she did; we are different ponies, after all."

"We're hardly even ponies," Corona said, her eyes wandering very briefly to the very clear proof of that, which was bending over wringing a rag into her bucket.  "But that is not the point.  One does not have to be Celestia to know that such a letter out of the blue would imply things that are not entirely reassuring."

"But true," Candesca pointed out.  "You do, in fact, spy on them quite often, after all."

"You miss it?" Corona asked, curious.

"To the extent that it's possible to miss something that I have technically never actually done," Candesca answered.  "My celestial sight isn't that bad, but seeing through heat is... well, the subtleties are lost."

The dragon maid had progressed to rubbing down one of the plinths in the room.  "How... unfortunate," Corona said.

"Still," Candesca started before the silence could get awkward.  "There are many other ways that the information could have come to us."

"Less unsettling ways?" Corona leadingly asked.

Candesca shrugged.  "When one of the parties involved is a self-proclaimed empress, there is no limit to the speed that word can travel."

"I am fairly certain that the physicists would have something to say about that assertion," Corona observed.

"They have something to say about most of the things we do," Candesca reminded her twin.  "It's flattering, but I do wish they would stop, sometimes; it can't be healthy."

"I'm fairly certain they'd be right—this time."

"Observably not," Candesca insisted, asserting that, "I have heard of it already, and I did no such spying."  She perked up, suddenly having an idea.  "Perhaps I should send a letter, then," she suggested coyly.

"You go ahead and do that," Corona said, leaning on the armrest of her throne.  "I am going to sit here and... think."

Candesca raised an eyebrow at her sister, then over at the tail of a certain maid swinging this way and that in the air.

"Right."


 —  Twilight — 


The squabbling about the dragons having apparently picked up some magic from watching Twilight had only gone on for a few minutes, but it was already getting old.

"Yes, Rarity," she said, her exasperation showing in her voice.  "I think that it's a good thing."

Rarity's ruffles were getting worse.  "Twilight, there's a balance to these things.  I'm all for helping ponies and dragons, but you can't just give random beings that kind of power, or you'll be responsible if they misuse it."

Twilight stiffened and Luna wrapped her wing around Twilight's back in response.  "Rarity, stop," she sternly commanded.  "Think about what you just said for a second."

Rarity was taken aback by the sudden drop in Twilight's tone, but remained resolute.  "I'm well aware of my position, Twilight, but we are your friends, and even so, you know you weren't in the right mind when you made us demigoddesses."

Twilight shook her head.  "No, Rarity, I'm not talking about you.  I'm the source for all pony magic, remember?"

Rarity blanched, only then realizing how she'd put her hoof in her mouth.  "Oh my, I—"

Suddenly, a great booming roar echoed through the throne room.  Everypony present turned to the rear of the room to see a large yellow bear at least twice the size of a normal one.  The bear managed to look sheepish, then split apart into the two bears it looked to have been made from and slipped back out the window.

Fluttershy cleared her throat in the silence that followed, and everyone turned back to her in question.  For once, she met their gazes without hesitation.  "We can discuss this later," she insisted quite strongly.  "Something has happened with Spike, and Kindle is injured.  I... I think it was Ember."

Every eye in the room widened, but it was Rainbow Dash who spoke up first.  "Wait—I thought Kindle was what Ember was calling herself when she was hiding from her dad?"

"That was Tinder, dear," Rarity clarified.

Rainbow Dash was lost in thought for a second, thinking back.  "Oh, right," she said.

Twilight only slightly reluctantly slipped out from under Luna's wing, already feeling a chill from the lack in the crystal-lined throne room.  "Where are they, and—" she turned to Luna, "—are you coming?"

Luna nodded.  "This could be important, so yes."  Looking to the yellow chickadee that was still sitting comfortably on top of Fluttershy's head, she said, "If you'll lead the way?"


 — Ember — 


"That... that..." Ember stood in the middle of the ex-library, shocked and fuming.  "He—he can't do that!" she insisted, fully aware of how that sounded since he had, in fact, done that, and Kindle and Drift had gone with him—and for what?

Ugh, no.  Ember shook her head.  She couldn't let herself get distracted.  Spike would come back like he always did.  Right now she needed to find that book—the book was everything!  She didn't know where it had come from, but that book had put to words the problems she had with the dragon race.  That book had shown her not only how things could be, but it had told her how to do it by telling her about Ashmund's Ring.

It was more than that, though.  She'd had the book for weeks.  Even with her less-than-stellar literacy, that was long enough for her to read any normal book and pick out the important parts.  The book wasn't any normal book, though; it was more.  She'd read it for days and days and it had just kept on going, going further and further into depth on everything from the politics and histories of the different empires to their laws and bureaucracies, and all she had to do to find information on a subject was turn to a random page while thinking about it.

That was why she had never let anyone read it.  Yes, it was so dense and dry in parts that she needed as much time as possible to actually get anything out of it—information she needed if she was going to be a real empress—but she was also afraid of what would happen if anyone found out about how special the book was.   If word got out about such a miraculous book, word might get back to whoever had had it before her and they would want it back.

She was not going to let anyone take that book.

Except, someone had taken it, and she didn't know what to do.  "Damn it, why did Spike have to walk out on me now?" she cursed.  He'd know what to do about tracking down whoever had taken the book, and then she'd be able to deal with them.

Ember wasn't stupid or blind.  She knew how much she'd been leaning on Spike for help navigating pony society, and as an empress who had announced to the whole world that integrating with pony society was the way forward, that was pretty relevant.  It was a good thing he was such a pushover, or she'd be worried that he might do a better job at this whole 'being empress' thing than her.

Was he, though?

Ember had been surprised by Spike before.  Usually he seemed too timid to get anything done, like when she'd had to draw him out on whether it had been the right time to go public by using the Ring of Ashmund to challenge her father.  Other times, though, he seemed downright devious, like when he'd used his position to get the ring in the first place and do it an a way that they hadn't been able to argue against it when they found out, to the point that the queens had actually apologized for getting angry about it!

"Wait."

Was this another one of those moments when the sneaky, devious Spike showed through?  He'd had more reason to leave plenty of times before and he'd always stuck with her.  Why would he leave now, unless.  "...That sneaky little—I bet he did steal it!  And those other two must be in on it!"

Without warning, Ember suddenly felt something strike her cheek and she found herself on the ground with Carnelia standing over her, arm out as if she'd just slapped someone.

Ember reached up to her face and winced at the throbbing pain as the wet, warm feeling of blood made itself known.

Getting slapped by a dragon's claw hurt.

"Wh—wha?" Ember stammered, trying to figure out what was going on.  Was this...  Had all of her friends turned on her?  "So, it is a coup," she deduced, her expression darkening.  "I see.  He has the book, but you stayed behind to ambush me and take the ring."

Carnelia palmed her face in her bloody claw.  "Listen to yourself," she hissed, drawing out her 's' sounds even more than usual in her agitation.

"No, you listen," Ember said, narrowing her eyes.  "You shouldn't have wasted your chance."  Wasting no time, she made a fist in front of her, using the Ring of Ashmund to reduce Carnelia, too, back into a baby dragon.  "You won't get another."

Ember was struggling to get to her feet when she was struck in the back of her head, and everything went dark.


 —  Slag — 


Slag stood over the unconscious Ember holding a heavy cast-iron saucepan that now resembled a conch shell more than something that would be used to cook food.  She might have overdone it, but that was the kind of force necessary to knock out a dragon, and at her size she'd needed every muscle she had to stop Ember from doing something they would all regret.

"Oh, this is just splendid," Carnelia sourly stated, now equal in stature to Slag.

Slag dropped the saucepan, breathing heavy not from the exertion, but from the adrenaline.  "Well, what did you expect me to do?" she challenged.  "You heard her."

Carnelia rubbed at the bridge of her snout.  "Yes.  Still.  This is going to strain things more than it already was."

Slag scratched at her jawline.  "So, uh—you think we should take the ring so she doesn't, you know, murder us all when she wakes up?"

Carnelia let out a long, hissing sigh.  "As much as I wish there was another choice, I fear we must... especially if she wakes while we are securing treatment for her face."

Slag stepped over Ember's legs and bent over to take a look at it.  The dragoness was laying on her front, but her head was turned to the side and the injury was clear. Carnelia hadn't held back, and there were two deep gashes—one above her eye and the other below, digging into her snout.  It was quite nasty, but the bleeding wasn't life threatening.

"Eh, she'll be fine," she decided with a shrug.  She'd had worse fighting for scraps of ore in the dragonlands.

Carnelia looked at her through lidded eyes.  "Perhaps," she allowed.  "But I am uncertain if I would ever sleep soundly again should the empress's face scar.  She does not seem to be the most stable of dragons."

"Yeah, what the heck was that about, anyway?" Slag wondered.  "That was not what I signed up for—and it's nothing like she's been."

"Isn't it?" Carnelia wondered, though Slag wasn't sure if she was serious or just thinking aloud.  "She has shown, occasionally, that she is the jealous sort; it has simply never been salient."

"Ehh..." Slag looked doubtfully at the unconscious form of their so-called 'empress.'  "I dunno.  I mean, yeah, she was pretty big on herself, but that?  That wasn't jealousy—that was straight up paranoia.  Something really has to have gone wrong that we don't know about, either with that book going missing or in her head."

Carnelia thought about it and hmmed noncommittally.  "Nevertheless, we should secure the ring—and secure aid."

Slag wasn't one for delaying and she really did want to stay unmurdered, so she—actually, Ember was laying on top of her arm.  Not to be dissuaded, she grabbed the arm and pulled, but Ember was ten times her size and it didn't budge.

"Hey—" she shouted over at Carnelia, who was watching.  "Come over and help me lift."

"Certainly," she agreed, and came closer.  With the two of them standing next to each other, it was clear that Carnelia was slightly taller and thinner, lacking the dense muscle that Slag possessed.

On one claw, this made sense because that was how they'd been before Ember had changed them.  On the other, that was how they'd been before ember had changed them.  Afterwards, they'd all looked very similar—closer to Ember's ideal—though none of them had really compared physiques beyond what had been immediately obvious.

"You get her legs," Slag instructed, and side by side, they heaved.

It took some doing, and Slag was definitely doing most of it, but with effort they managed to get Ember onto her back, revealing the claw with the ring on it, which Slag went straight for, not knowing how long Ember would be out for.

The ring came off easily and it felt heavy in her hand—more so than could be explained by the fact that it spanned her entire palm, being sized for Ember's claw.  Slag had seen it from a distance plenty of times, but she'd never really gotten a close look at it.  It was, primarily ivory or bone, carved with something like an impossibly detailed mural around the circumference that had no doubt been done when it was at a larger size.  The rest of it was gold, which covered made up the inside and wrapped up around the edges, standing slightly proud from the surface of the bone.

It was a nice piece of work, but there wasn't much else to say.  It might be nice to see the carving at full size, but she wasn't going to ask Ember to show it to her—not after how she'd reacted with the book.

Shrugging, she held it out to Carnelia.  "Want to use it to make yourself a decent size again?" she asked.

Carnelia took the ring and seemed a bit more taken by it.  Frowning, she considered Slag's question.  "That depends..." she hissed, thoughtful.  "...She may be substantially more incensed should she see her sanction reversed."

"Her 'sanction' was that she was going to kill you," Slag reminded her in a deadpan tone.  "I don't think it's going to get much worse, and even without the ring she's still got physical strength, so if you're not going to, I will.  This is more important than my tail."

"Sound reasoning," she agreed and placed the Ring of Ashmund on her finger, the ring shrinking to fit.

At first, nothing happened... then Carnelia hissed—not as a form of speech, but in pain, gripping the claw that had the ring on it.  Slag was just about ready for Carnelia to turn evil or something, since it had been that kind of a day, when she realized whatever had happened wasn't ongoing and Carnelia was slowly returning to standing straight.

"Tartarus," Carnelia cursed.

Slag took a step closer, but hung back from actually approaching her.  "...You okay?" she asked.

"Yes," Carnelia said, stretching her claw and scowling at the ring.

Slag took another step, trying to get a look at the ring on Carnelia's claw; underneath the gold, there was red, and as she watched, a line of blood ran down her finger and dripped onto the floor.

"Grit!" Slag swore.  "You're not okay; what happened?"

"As I previously said: Tartarus," Carnelia stated as if that was a normal thing for Slag to assume.  "I suspect, somehow, that his blood is the gold the ring is made from."

"What."

Carnelia raised her arm as Ember sometimes did when she was using the ring, and she started to grow—then her eyes widened in panic.  "Wha—?  No!" she shouted, and in haste gripped the claw with the ring, trying to take it off.

Slag was confused at first, but as Carnelia struggled, she realized that Carnelia hadn't been growing.  At least, not all of her.  It was just Carnelia's hand that had grown, and it had grown monstrous—jagged and spiked.

Closing the gap in an instant, Slag tried to help Carnelia remove the ring, but it was impossible; the scales of Carnelia's claw had grown into sharp plates, trapping it on her.

Carnelia continued to struggle as the transformation crawled up her arm while Slag stood there, unable to do anything.  In her state, she probably couldn't even bite the arm off if it came to that.

Fortunately, it didn't come to that and the transformation died down halfway up Carnelia's forearm after a tremendous work of willpower.

"Curses," Carnelia growled.  "It has rejected me."

"It?" Slag asked.  "The blood of Tartarus?"

Carnelia shook her head.  "No.  The blood accepted me.  It is the bone that did not, and it seems that it is the bone which provides control."

Slag blinked.  "So, it's someone else's bone?" she concluded.

"Yes," Carnelia confirmed.  "Perhaps it is the eponymous Ashmund."

"You seem to suddenly know a lot," she pointed out, and overtly looked askance at the unconscious 'empress.'  "You don't suppose that Ember...?"

Carnelia looked troubled, but shook her concern away.  "Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  It may be the contrast in sides that has given me insight.  I do not expect that the ring fought Ember, so she may have sensed nothing from it."

Slag was trying to figure out where they were going to go from there when she remembered that they were supposed to be getting Ember some kind of medical care.

"Ugh," came the pained voice of Ember, sitting up and rubbing the back of her head.  "What hit me?" she said, looking up at the two baby dragons.  Her claw slowly moved from the bump on the back of her head to the wound on her face, still confused.

The moment when Ember spotted Carnelia's apparent age and her malformed arm was the same moment that she remembered what had happened before she'd been knocked out, and it was impossible to miss as her face twisted in apoplectic fury.

"Oh, spit."