4
===
With court in session, Nova and Crescent fell completely silent, watching as the judges made their initial statements and proclamations. Starswirl stared ahead the entire time, not even flinching when his face would appear on the large screen. The same went for the Empresses, who stared down upon the whole courtroom like statues.
Court proceeded with the opening salute to Equestria, the Empresses and eternal peace. The ceremony took almost two hours, carrying with it a dullness that draped the room and its occupants. Perhaps the only ponies not slouching in any manner were Starswirl, the representatives of Global Security and the Empresses.
The dullness ended, however, with a single statement.
“The defendant, Stabledon, shall now step forth.”
Nodding off up until that point, Nova snapped to attention. She subtly nudged Crescent, whose eyes were half-closed. He sat up along with the other fifty members of the project, looking to Stabledon.
Starswirl weakly rose from his chair and walked to the large, embedded insignia of the Equestrian Empire located at the end of the center aisle. Once he stood within the middle, the insignia—a platform that fit in between the tiles—levitated from the ground. It carried him—and him alone—upwards to be easily viewed by spectators on the higher stands.
Another platform rose simultaneously, holding a young stallion who wore a variation of Global Security attire. His platform ceased moving once he was in front of the judges’ balcony.
“Mr. Stabledon,” began the prosecutor, smirking, “are you confused about anything? Would you like for us to remind you why you are here?”
“There is no need,” said Starswirl, his voice croaking. “Although I am old by Canterlot standards, I am not deaf nor slow in processing basic information. I understand my position here today.”
“Is that so? Then do you understand the charges made against you, Mr. Stabledon?”
“I understand them fully,” he replied, blinking once.
“And your response?”
Stabledon fell silent, his eyes scanning the upper balcony that housed the judges. He stated, “I have not performed a single act of wrongdoing.”
Harsh murmurs erupted from the crowd, but they were silenced by a bang of the gavel.
His smirk developing into a frown, the prosecutor said, “Perhaps you would wish to re-think that answer. I think it’s fair to say that our onlookers here say otherwise.”
Starswirl shrugged his shoulders briefly. “I have, young sir. I have had plenty of time to think while under confinement. And I do not believe that I have overstepped what little authority I possess.”
“You are the highest-ranking member of your own project. You do have authority of some sort.” The prosecutor adjusted his eyepiece. “But, for additional clarification, what is your project, exactly? You are creating an encyclopedia, correct?”
“We are focused on creating a new spell-book. One that will encompass the millions of discovered spells of all categories across the galaxy. All project members are primarily unicorns, because they are the only type of equine that can use magic without technological aid.”
“Compiling millions of spells?” replied the prosecutor with a yawn. “How long would such a task take? Months? Years?”
“Years, by my estimate.”
“By your estimate?” interrupted the prosecutor. “Does your ‘estimate’ pertain to your results concerning...”—he glanced to the corner of his eyepiece—“psychohistory?”
“No, not in this case,” Starswirl replied, unfazed. “Accounting for the daily workloads of each member of the project, I know it will take decades to gather together a database of millions of spells.”
The prosecutor partially bared his teeth, but the expression faded as soon as it appeared. He asked, “And just how many equines of Canterlot does your project encompass, Stabledon?”
“I can guess that at least fifty are present here today—”
“Only fifty? Through our investigations, Mr. Stabledon, we have determined that thousands of equines—mainly unicorns—are part of the project.”
Starswirl narrowed his eyes at the prosecutor. “If you had let me finish, I would have gotten to that.” The prosecutor bit his lower lip under Starswirl’s glare, though Starswirl continued, “But in some ways, those thousands of unicorns are involved. Those young minds have all volunteered on academic grounds. Thousands of spell-casters have joined in searching for information, locating spells, and possibly even creating new ones if time allows. Yet the true compilation happens between the inner fifty members, who work tirelessly in creating a seamless compendium.”
“Uh-huh,” began the prosecutor. “Let us backtrack, Mr. Stabledon. You said, before, that psychohistory cannot be applied to your estimate. And yet isn’t that what your science is about? Predicting the future?”
Starswirl frowned. “That is its definition in its simplest form. Psychohistory, while it does ‘predict the future,’ does not apply to narrow searches or small groups.”
“So in what case is psychohistory valid?”
“The science is only valid in its application to the large groups of equines that make up society. It bases itself less upon individual mentality and more upon that of mobs. The mathematics involved are complex—having been formed, edited and altered throughout the decades—and only a fellow psychohistorian could grasp the most basic equations.”
“Oh, really? Then could another ‘psychohistorian’ step forward to elaborate, or confirm what you say?”
Stabledon gazed at the floor of the platform. “I am the first and the last psychohistorian,” he muttered, the screen-speakers amplifying his voice. “There were others with me who I had taught, but they have long-since passed on. And with the affairs of the project taking up my time, I could not find new minds to pass the technique onto.”
The prosecutor looked puzzled for a moment, but his eyepiece flashed. “If no one is left to confirm your findings, then how can we assess the validity of your predictions?”
“The validity of what predictions, young sir?” asked Starswirl.
The smirk returned to the prosecutor’s face. “For instance,” he said, jabbing his hoof out towards Starswirl, “your prediction that the Empire could collapse!”
“Ah, yes... that.” Starswirl shrugged his shoulders once more, though the motion was more drawn out. “In my opinion, psychohistory, by its very nature and tiniest workings, need not be confirmed. But are we not getting off-topic? It seems we are deviating from the issue that brought us all here today.”
Still grinning, the prosecutor said, “You are wrong in that respect, Mr. Stabledon. The council has evaluated your personal profile, and has determined that your method of prediction and your project are meshed together.”
“How so?”
Glancing at the judges above him, the prosecutor said, “We have obtained pieces of evidence, but the most prominent comes from you yourself. An audio recording.”
The screens went black, but the speakers worked, broadcasting static-less sound across each level.
“Mr. Stabledon, I’d hate to trouble you, but it seems we’ve run into a bit of a problem.”
Approximately half of the project members, including Crescent, turned to one of their own. The equine's jaw had dropped, but he quickly averted his eyes to the ground.
“What is it this time?” asked another voice—clearly belonging to Starswirl.
“A few dozen of our collaborators left a day ago—they turned in their resignation letters simultaneously. Most were tasked with gathering transformation spells while we focused on gravitational magic. To save us the hassle and focus, they planned on sending them to us altogether—it turned out that that wasn’t such a good idea to go with. This is a bit of a setback for the group.”
A brief wave of static flooded the speakers. “—How long?”
“What?”
“How many years will this set us back, do you think?”
“Oh… um… If we have to start from scratch, it could push our deadline back by a few years. Two at the very least. Don’t worry; we’ll work something out with them, if they don’t disappear first. I don’t think everything will be lost.”
The background noise ceased, as if the piece of audio already ended. But before the crowd could go back to muttering, the sound returned.
“You seem to be taking this hard, Mr. Stabledon.”
The voice belonging to Starswirl sighed. “There are a dozen other problems we are dealing with, and each brings with it a setback. The more that pile up, the worse it becomes. I am only stressed, but it will pass eventually.”
Another silence came, but no equine dared to speak.
“Stress isn’t good for your health,” said the project member. “I know you’re the most passionate of us regarding this project, Starswirl, but what’s really at stake if we don’t succeed in the end?”
“Our fates, Aura,” said Stabledon. “Perhaps the Empire’s fate, too.”
The voices stopped along with the static that hung in the background, and the screens resumed showing the important equines in the room.
Smiling victoriously, the prosecutor said, “As clearly defined in the recording—which featured your voice, Mr. Stabledon—the project is correlated to ‘the Empire’s fate.’ What could that mean?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is this project really a conspiracy set on destroying the Empire?”
The screen briefly panned by the judges’ balcony, showing that each equine it housed had narrowed their eyes towards Stabledon. The prosecutor smirked even wider as Starswirl lowered his head, staring at the insignia engraved into the surface of his platform.
Then Starswirl looked up quickly, his facial features stern. “You are wrong,” he said, a slight yet noticeable shift in his tone of voice. “You were wrong as well when you said that the Empire could fall. The truth is... the Equestrian Empire will fall. The calamity will not be caused by my hoof, of course, nor any hoof of the hundred thousand project members. The sheer idea of an infinitesimal amount of unicorns—compared to the quadrillions throughout the galaxy—destroying the Empire is laughable and completely insane.”
The prosecutor appeared dumbstruck, but he shook his head quickly and said, “So you deny the charges that you are committing treason?”
“I am,” said Starswirl. “I deny that my project is playing a part in the fall of the Empire.”
The prosecutor stepped back, shocked. His eyepiece flashed urgently, displaying whatever messages were being transmitted to him. “Then how could the Empire fall?” he said disbelievingly, not looking at his eyepiece at all. “The Empire! The single galactic society that has existed for over ten millenniums! Hundreds of lifetimes!”
Starswirl shook his head. “The Empire will fall because it is already in the process of falling. Already, at the very edge of the galaxy—far from the watchful eyes of the Empresses—the worlds of the periphery are decaying. The magical arts have been cast aside. This arcane decay will progress inward as the years pass. Within the next few centuries, Canterlot itself will be affected by those worlds. Without the guiding hoof of the Empire, galactic society will be engulfed in wars for thousands of years. The rate of technological progress will be dramatically reversed, sending all worlds into more primitive ages.”
The prosecutor appeared to be sweating. “How can any of us take anything you say with more than a grain of salt?”
“It honestly wouldn’t matter if you did or you didn’t,” said Stabledon with his own smirk. “The fall will happen regardless.”
“Then what do you propose we do, Mr. Stabledon, to save our Empire?” asked the prosecutor, his voice arrogant but leaking concern.
“We cannot save the Empire, yet—please!” Starswirl said loudly, quickly silencing the building commotion coming from the stands. “Let me continue! The Empire cannot be saved; no amount of unified effort on Canterlot’s part can prevent the fall. Still, we can lessen the period of chaos that will follow!
“The outer planets are decaying because they have forgotten their connections. The many arts Canterlotian unicorns have become acquainted with have been lost to time, as shown in numerous outer-world statistics on knowledge distribution. We must return this lost information to them through some means—and I have discovered a minimal, satisfactory way." Starswirl gazed down to the group containing Nova and Crescent. "My project—the group endeavor to compile the ever-expanding arcane sciences—will combat this problem. It will re-introduce the knowledge of magic to every worlds’ databases, so that even as advancements are forgotten, they can simply consult the compendium to rebuild what they have lost. And thus, the Next Empire will be formed from the scattered remnants of the last.” Stabledon turned his head to the nearest level of onlookers. “That is why my project is connected to my predictions.” He looked back to the judges. “That is why my project could have a stake in the Empire’s fate!
“My project is harmless. Whether or not it succeeds will not affect Canterlot in any way, shape or form anytime soon. Yet, its success could make the difference later on. In the end, though, it is your choice!” He looked up to the judges’ balcony, and both screens—including the one that constantly showed the Empresses—immediately changed perspectives to magnify the equines upon it. “Putting an end to my project will doom what we’ve come to know as Equestria to destruction. Letting it continue, however, could change that fate. Now that you know the truth, what is your decision?”
The judges and the prosecutor were silent, their eyes darting between each other. Stabledon waited, his expression unchanging, as they remained silent and leaned away from their microphones. Even as they muttered angrily to one another, they seemed blissfully unaware that their faces were being broadcasted to the entire courtroom.
All it took was one shout, and several more erupted from the crowd. The pent-up confusion that had developed in the masses burst out in the form of anger. Some insults were directed at Stabledon himself, others at the officials. Like a virus, it spread through the rows of equines on every level. Stabledon still stared at the balcony, while the prosecutor panicked, holding his hooves up to his eyepiece as it flashed brightly. Not even the loudest bang of the gavel could silence the rising commotion. Not even—
A piercing light! A shattering sound! Together they broke through the tense atmosphere of the room, reflecting and echoing from the marble walls of the entire chamber. It was a spell! The luminescence silenced everyone immediately, drawing their eye to the colorful, harmless blasts that stretched across the once-empty ceiling. When it ended, every equine turned to the highest balcony.
“This trial shall continue in private,” said Empress Celestia, her voice heard by everyone even though the screens and speakers had smoke billowing out from their circuitry. Her long horn illuminated the whole balcony, giving both her and Empress Luna an otherworldly aura. “All those not part of Global Security, or Stabledon’s project, will return to their daily activities at once.”
Hesitation gripped the crowd, but another flash of light burst; Luna’s horn now emitted a midnight blue color. Empress Luna added, “Do so quickly, effectively and safely, or you shall all face the repercussions for the violent behavior that Empress Celestia and I have had the misfortune of witnessing here.”
After a brief pause, the courtroom suddenly flowed like a well-oiled magi-collector, dispersing out in an organized manner while the colors of the Empresses’ spells hung above. Minutes later, once all clamor had ceased, Nova brought her head up and looked around. For a room that was filled to capacity minutes ago, the emptiness of the upper levels was ghostly. Stabledon remained standing, looking upward as if to lock gazes with the goddesses.
“Starswirl Stabledon shall be brought before us within the palace, in our personal chambers,” said Empress Luna. “The decision shall be made by our hooves, because of the breakdown we have witnessed in the court on this day.”
“With all due respect, your highness,” said the head judge, shaking away his shock, “you would be disregarding the established law by taking over so dramatically, unraveling our court system. There is no—”
The Empresses’ reply was instant and simultaneous. “Canterlotian Code of Courts, Article Four, Section Two.”
Frozen in place, the judge beckoned over a nearby pony with a holo-tablet. His face contorted as his eyes scanned the surface, but he bowed his head. “Yes, your excellencies.”
“Forgive me for interrupting, your highness,” said Stabledon, looking to Empress Celestia, “but my group must have adequate representation.”
“So be it!” said Empress Celestia. “Choose one, or choose all; it does not matter, for our minds have already been made. We await you, Starswirl Stabledon.”
And with those final words, the Global Security trial came to a close. Both Empresses turned their backs, walking into the dark hallway. The project members were led out of their row by nearby officers as the platform holding Stabledon lowered. The project members, and Nova, were lined up in two separate columns in the center aisle.
One of the judges walked with Stabledon, striding aggressively. “Choose your two representatives,” he tried to say with superiority, ignoring the bead of sweat running down his muzzle. “We will only allow two, for reasons of-”
“Security,” finished Starswirl. “No offense to your traditions, but I, along with every equine here, know at this point.”
The judge growled, but he backed away and paced angrily out of sight. Shaking his head after the judge's departure, Stabledon scanned the group, locking eyes with each equine.
“They will suffice,” he said, dragging his hoof in the direction of Crescent and Nova.
Wordlessly, Nova and Crescent stepped forward. Nova raised an eyebrow, and after looking over to Crescent and his fellow project members, she saw that they all wore puzzled expressions towards both her and Stabledon. Yet Starswirl’s reassuring look told otherwise. Before Nova could even open her mouth, she was ushered forward forcefully by the adorned palace guards.
“Starswirl... you should have chosen another unicorn,” she whispered, glancing back at the group of unicorns as they were led away.
Starswirl glanced at her. “Haven’t you always wanted to see the mystical Empresses, Nova?”
“I admit I did, but it was a foal’s dream. I’m not a part of all of this, so I shouldn’t have a say or play an important role. Excluding Crescent, there are forty-nine project members remaining who are far more qualified than I am as a representative.”
Stabledon, however, looked to path ahead. “And yet I would prefer to have equines I can fully trust. I have known you and Crescent longer than all the members of the project. For that reason, both of you are the best choices for this encounter—unless your time on Fillyan has changed you, which I doubt.”
Nova trembled and looked to Crescent for assistance. He also followed Starswirl’s example by not paying attention to their surroundings. “No, it hasn’t,” she answered, sighing in defeat.
“Then follow,” Starswirl replied. “And for your own safety, watch your tongue!”