...The city of Starfall was not sure what to make of their new Princess at first. Such was understandable, for she had been elevated by the sole sponsorship of their king-in-all-but-name, the High Elder Vega Lyrae, whom had built the city between his hooves through years of successful smuggling and piracy. Out of the dusts of the White Wastes, life blossomed under him.
And now, Vega Lyrae had willingly submitted himself to her, this newcomer, this oddity with feathered wings and a spire jutting from her brow. This... creature who was Equinocti, and yet not Equinocti.
But their former de facto leader had put his faith in Luna, and so his people cautiously attempted the same.
During her waking hours, the newly-crowned Princess would walk the streets of her city, learning the ins and outs of the rogues’ den she had inherited. She would mingle with the commoners, always with Chives by her side. I put aside my frustration at losing his valuable service as a butler, tempered with the knowledge that he was doing a greater good by his role as Luna’s first and senior Knight. Servants were replaceable. Friends, however, were not.
More often than not, the Princess spurned the court meetings altogether. The city’s elite frequently came to call on the squat longhouse that Vega Lyrae used as the center of government, only to find the freshly-erected throne vacant. Despite her new burden, Luna was as cheerfully indomitable as ever, refusing to be tied down by ‘fops and dandies.’
Luna relished the attention she garnered when she all-but-pranced through the twisting ways of Starfall. She loved the children, especially. While the adults would stare and nervously whisper upon the sidewalks, mystified by her presence, the younglings would always rush to her, undaunted by her station or appearance.
“Glory in them,” she once told me, “for the innocent smile of a foal is worth all the gold and silver in the world. They do not yet know the burn of hate or the bite of fear. And that is a wondrous thing, indeed.”
She would laugh and play with them, romping and frolicing through the streets like a child herself. The parents, after recovering from the initial shock of seeing their little one rough-housing with the Princess in the middle of the road, soon thawed to her presence. If their children could meet her without hesitance, then so could they.
Luna seemed to be made for the city; it was rough, loud, and confusing. She would crack filthy jokes with the dockworkers and sailors. She would gossip with the wives about their husbands. She could out-wrestle, out-drink, and out-belch every man in the city (and proved it, to my chargin), yet showed the grace to fairly judge a criminal, kiss an infant, and assist a stranger in need. She became their Warrior-Princess, and slowly, they began to love her for it.
One cycle passed by in this manner.
We journeyed around our star, orbiting the gem of Equus as we did. The dry season gave way to the wet season, and soon moisture collected about the ground in thick clouds of obscuring silver mist, melted ice that had thawed from it’s berth within the Maria. Starfall began a chapter of prosperity as never seen before. Those who held dissent to the Kingdom somehow found their way across the Wastes, be it by land, air, or subterranean.
They brought word of ill news — that the Kingdom was not what it once had been. The good King Starshade, as amiable and kind-hearted he might be, was an ineffective and weak ruler. In his lax grip, the government began to run amok, until again coalescing under a new banner of power.
The Elders.
The organization once devoted to the service of the people had become something twisted and monstrous. Knowledge, once pouring from their learned halls, was now kept secreted away like a precious valuable. Science, mathematics, architecture, art. Nothing advanced without their ever-watchful consent. Society had come to a grinding halt. Progress was now a commodity.
But still, we waited. Vega Lyrae and I both agreed that in order to successfully topple the oligarchy, we must strike swiftly, and with such force that they would be swept aside in an instant. To that end, convinced Princess Luna that the best course of action would be to remain hidden, a mere wisp of a rumor, until it was far too late to stop us.
As Highlord, I served as Luna’s chief lieutenant. While Vega Lyrae worked to assemble a fighting force out of the ragtag fleet assembled in his harbor, I saw to the political ends of our strategy. I met with the heads of Starfallian industry and society, as representative for my Princess, and was left to the task of earning their support.
Much to Chives’ grief, I had to embrace my bloodline, the noble substance surging through my veins granting me the title and standing required to attempt such a feat. They would not listen to a commoner, even if he or she was elevated to such a role. But a Lord... of royal blood and unmarred descent? I was, for all intents and purposes, the only true nobleman in Luna’s entire holding. Much to my displeasure, that meant it fell to me to represent our fledgling court.
I was not very good at it.
I grumbled, stuttered, and whined my way through that cycle. Being born into leadership does not automatically make one good at it. I was not charismatic, or particularly talented in the ways of oration, but I was faithful to my friends, and my peers in Court respected that.
Slowly, very slowly, a nation was forged in the depths of the canyon. Races of all kinds banded together under Luna’s black banner, in hope that this new source of power on the moon might bring forth a new tomorrow. They pinned their hopes on us, and we had sworn not to let them down.
Our first test came in the early days of the wet season. City scouts had reported seeing movement far off in the distance, nothing more than a large shape on the horizon kicking up dust. The reports soon changed, however, as the distance between the anomaly and Starfall closed.
An army.
And through my spyglass, I observed a familiar figure at its head. The very face of the Elder’s impunity for common law and their fondness for deception. The face that I had welcomed into my own home, unbeknownst that it might have been the last I’d ever see. I could not resist a tremble of fear as I observed the column that face led, a phantom from nights past...
Colonel Shaddo had returned...
~Highlord Cassius of House Andromeda, the First and Last of his Name