From the moment we came within sight of Cloudsdale, a sense of dread settled into my stomach.
My poor mood was no doubt exacerbated by the fact that Commander Celestia had requested that I remain in the company of Sunbeam Sparkle and her daughter. No doubt, she still hoped that the two of us might set aside our budding feud. Thankfully, Sunbeam chose to remain silent rather than o’erburden me with her company.
Upon the Commander’s arrival at Cloudsdale, we had proceeded directly to the Commander’s Residence. I could not help but note that, when compared to the Royal Palace in Canterlot or even the less ostentatious Chancellor’s Mansion in Manehatten, our residence for Commander Celestia seemed rather poor. It was not our way to indulge in needless luxury or waste space simply to make a larger domicile for our leaders. The Commander’s residence was of sufficient size to contain the Commander and those members of her staff she would need to keep close at hoof.
I also noted that several of the unicorns in the Commander’s party were glaring discontentedly at the size of the Commander’s Residence. No doubt they had imagined some preposterous palace in the clouds where they might lie about in idle luxury at the expense of other ponies. Such did seem to be the primary function of the Canterlot nobility.
It was not until young Midnight spoke that I understood that there might be another cause for their displeasure. “Why do the other pegasi have grander palaces than Her Majesty?”
I needed a moment to grasp the true meaning behind Midnight’s question, perhaps because I simply did not grasp how anypony could fail to notice the difference between a clanhold and a palace. I took action to correct the young filly’s misconception. “Those are not palaces, those are the holds of the great clans of Pegasopolis. They are larger than the Commander’s Residence because hundreds or thousands of ponies live there, whilst one only dwells within the Commander’s Residence.”
“But that one pony is the Queen.” Midnight gazed up at me, and slowly blinked. “Why do the clans think themselves so far above her?”
“We do not.” The very implication of such a thing offended me, though I tried not to show it. ‘Twas only natural that young Midnight would not grasp our ways. “There is no arrogance to it, ‘tis simply a matter of practicality. One pony requires far less space than hundreds. If we were to make the Commander’s residence larger than any of the clanholds the vast bulk of it would simply be empty, wasted space.”
“But then how will everypony know that she stands above them in the social hierarchy?” Midnight turned upon me with a confused frown. “Is it not traditional that those of higher social rank display such through the size and grandeur of their homes? If not, then why do the great clans have larger holds than the small ones?”
“We have larger clanholds because there are more ponies in our clans,” I answered her simply.
“And is not the size of your clans a clear indication of their power?” Midnight deftly countered. “And as such, having a larger clanhold than the Commander’s Residence clearly indicates that the clans view themselves as being more powerful than the Commander?”
“That is not the way of it.” I struggled to find a way to explain the subtleties of pegasus culture to a mere filly. “There are nuances of meaning which...”
After a few seconds of pained silence, Sunbeam finally entered the conversation. “So, ‘twould seem that the great Ephors of Pegasopolis can be outmaneuvered by a mere filly. Mayhaps I should allow my daughter to sit in your councils, that she might offer the benefits of her superior intellect.”
As often occurs when I am forced to converse with the Archmagus of Canterlot, I felt a sudden urge to test the keenness of my wingblades in a manner which the Commander would not approve of. Thankfully, we arrived at the Residence proper before I found myself forced to endure enough of her company to drive me beyond all reason.
We were met at the Residence by my fellow ephors, as well as all the Gerousia, including my father and the venerable Dawnburst Charger. As the Commander exited her chariot, her new hetairoi (1) formed ranks around her. I was pleased to see that Gale was amongst their number, bearing the traditional black armor of the hetairoi. Such a prestigious position was only fitting for my daughter, and it would also leave her ideally placed to keep me informed of all that passed within the Commander’s Residence during her stay in Pegasopolis.
1: The ceremonial bodyguard for the Commander of Pegasopolis, traditionally composed of the Commander’s personal friends and comrades-in-arms, or young soldiers in whom the Commander sees great potential. Celestia’s long absence from Pegasopolis resulted in the hetairoi being effectively disbanded—though Shadow does not explain how the new hetairoi were so quickly assembled, the most likely explanation is that Celestia simply chose suitable ponies from the prominent clans.
Archmagus Sparkle looked at the assembled collection of ponies, and let out a faintly annoyed sniff. “I would have thought that even the pegasi could arrange with a bit more pomp for Her Majesty’s arrival in Cloudsdale.”
I could not resist the opportunity to land a barb. “If that is your wish, Archmagus, then I am certain we could arrange a parade for your arrival which would easily exceed that which the earth ponies gave you ‘pon your departure from Manehatten.” That had the gratifying effect of silencing her entirely, though I regretted the words when I noted a haunted look in young Midnight’s eyes. I reluctantly dipped my head. “My apologies, that was an unworthy remark.” The fact that it was made to a pony who wholly deserved to be scorned did not make it any more acceptable.
“Think nothing of it,” Sunbeam answered airily. “If we were to apologize for every insensitive remark we made, we would find ourselves occupied for several days.”
She stepped out of the carriage, experimentally testing her balance on the clouds with her thunderforged horseshoes. “A most curious sensation indeed.” I confess that one of the less mature portions of my mind was briefly tempted to push her over so that her body would lie upside-down within the clouds, supported only by her horseshoes. Thankfully, I resisted such an impulse.
All proceeded into the Commander’s Residence, and the large formal dining hall within. ‘Twould seem that my fellow Ephors thought it best to welcome the Commander to Pegasopolis with a formal meal. Thankfully, the Commander’s dining hall had sufficient space to accommodate all the ponies who wished to attend the meal. A substantial portion of the Commander’s Residence was in fact devoted to precisely that. ‘Twas tradition that the Commander break bread alongside the soldiers of Pegasopolis. Swift Blade and I had already arranged to rotate units into the dining halls for each meal during the Commander’s visit. If all went according to plan—a sadly rare state of affairs—the Commander would have the privilege of dining with every pony of officer rank in Pegasopolis, and a substantial number of the common soldiers as well, before her return to Canterlot.
We had not even properly begun the meal before the first dispute arose. The act of eating is, in my opinion, something that should not be spoiled by the inclusion of politics. Sadly, it seems that I was alone in that opinion.
Several of the unicorns accompanying Commander Celestia were less than pleased with the current seating arrangements, of all things. It seemed a foolish thing to concern themselves over—while I was vaguely aware of Unicornia possessing their own seating customs, they were now in Pegasopolis, and ‘twas only to be expected that they would abide by our rules. The Commander would dine with her hetairoi, while the remaining tables would be organized by clan. The unicorns, not having any clan to dine with, would naturally be seated off to the side at a table of their own.
Voices were raised, chests were puffed out, and self-important declarations abounded on all sides. Eventually, Commander Celestia herself intervened, and gently put an end to the foolishness. She would remain seated with her hetairoi as a Commander should, but would allow the unicorns accompanying her to take places of honor at the various clan tables.
At first I thought this a reasonable enough compromise, though I did not relish the prospect of dining alongside a pampered unicorn noble. Then I espied the Commander speaking with Sunbeam Sparkle, and her eyes flicked over to my table.
No. She would not. Surely she would not...
She did.
There are times when the Commander has a most cruel sense of humor.
I suppose I could at least take some small consolation in the fact that my daughter dined at the Commander’s right hoof. However, my daughter’s place of honor would prove to be a small comfort if I had to endure Sunbeam Sparkle or some other noble dining alongside me as part of the exchange. Not even my father’s presence at my side could offset such unpleasant company.
For once, ‘twould seem the Archmagus and I were in agreement, as she clearly relished the thought of dining alongside me no more than I was pleased by her presence at my table. I was sorely tempted to make my objections known, but such a course would be unlikely to accomplish my goal. ‘Twas the Commander’s wish that Sunbeam Sparkle dine at my table, and I would not jeopardize the regard she seemed to have for me over such a relatively minor affair.
I suspect many of my fellow pegasi were no more enthusiastic at the prospect of dining with unicorns than I, for the Commander took it upon herself to say a few words. “I think it fitting, on a momentous occasion such as this, to celebrate the unity of Equestria through a gesture of hospitality. On this night, let us all dine together not as dukes, nobles, ephors, and geronts, but as ponies.”
My ire grew at that. ‘Twas offensive enough that I must dine with the Archmagus, but now I was expected to offer her hospitality as well? (2) Though perhaps this was her latest stratagem to put an end to the conflict between the Archmagus and I.
2: Hospitality in Pegasopolan culture was an extremely important social custom, incurring a number of duties between host and guest. Any violation of the rules of hospitality was an extreme social offense. The rules of hospitality would force an effective truce between Shadow and Sunbeam, and additionally require that they treat each other with the utmost respect for as long as Sunbeam was considered Shadow’s guest.
The Archmagus and her daughter approached our table but did not yet seat themselves, awaiting a formal invitation to do so. I was reluctant to fulfill the role of good hostess, but thankfully Father was at hoof to make good any lapse in decorum on my part. “Archmagus Sparkle, please grace me and my clan with the honor of having you as a guest at our table.” A wry smile crossed his face as he added. “You will, I hope, forgive me for not seeing to your place at the table personally.” He waved a hoof across his own milky-white eyes. “I am afraid such considerations are quite beyond me now. Please, take a place of honor by my daughter’s side.”
And now Father moved the Archmagus towards me along with the Commander. ‘Twas enough to make me wonder if there was some terrible conspiracy to force the two of us to endure each other’s company. Be this some manner of retribution for a sin I unwittingly committed?
“I thank you for your generosity, and shall endeavor to be a worthy guest at your table.” The Archmagus offered a tantalizing smile that was completely wasted on my father. Even when his eyes still functioned, he had never shown any interest in the company of mares.
Upon grasping the evident issues in flirting with my father, she promptly shifted her attention to me. I made a point of ignoring her efforts. I was quite certain that by this point she only made such gestures towards me because she took perverse pleasure in how such advances offended my sensibilities. Unlike Father, I’ve a certain level of interest in mares, but I prefer ones who are less vile and duplicitous than the reivers I had recently put down.
Thankfully, Father seemed content for the moment to take up the burden of speaking with Archmagus Sparkle, freeing me from any need to acknowledge her existence. Instead, I found mine eye drawn to her daughter, who was currently poking at the table and reshaping it to the best of her ability. Without the natural skills of a pegasus or any advanced magic, she could do little more than crude manipulation by poking the cloud with her shoes. Her persistence ultimately bore fruit in the form of several crude figures that appeared to be earth ponies.
I was about to offer a few words of praise for her efforts when her normally impassive face twisted in a sudden and hateful snarl as she smashed the model earth ponies beneath her hooves. While I am no scholar of the mind’s workings, that did not strike me as terribly healthy behavior. ‘Twould seem her experience in Manehatten had left some scars on young Midnight’s psyche.
Were her mother anypony else, I might have taken her aside and counseled her on the matter. However, Sunbeam Sparkle had not shown any great concern for her daughter’s well-being. She certainly seemed to be paying the filly’s current display no mind.
Any further unpleasantness was prevented by the arrival of our food. Compared to the culinary crafts of the unicorns or the richer meals of the earth ponies, pegasi cuisine has always been less sophisticated. ‘Tis an inevitable result of dwelling within the clouds. Every single food item must be brought up from the ground, from simple vegetables to exotic spices, and then there are the inevitable complications of storing food (3). The Ephorate was also quick to sacrifice certain luxuries of taste when negotiating the needs of Pegasopolis; better to have plain food than a lack of weapons and armor.
3: Storing large quantities of food cloudside is difficult, due to the issues of gravity and moisture. For that reason, most of the food supplies for Cloudsdale and other Pegasopolan cities were stored in large groundside granaries. Those logistical issues probably contributed to Pegasopolis’ social customs that favored large communal meals. It was far simpler from an organizational standpoint to have a few large meals than to portion out foodstuffs to every individual pony.
For the occasion, the chefs had prepared a hearty vegetable stew. Stews were a common feature of our own cuisine, given that the one element of cooking we possessed in abundance was water. My first sampling of it confirmed that it was as unadorned as our cooking usually is. I found it quite agreeable—the relative lack of seasoning and embellishment allowed me to simply enjoy the flavor of the vegetables themselves. However, I suspected that the refined palates of our guests would not care for such simple but enjoyable food.
To my vague disappointment, Sunbeam Sparkle showed no reaction upon first tasting her food, simply continuing to politely consume it as if it were any other meal. Pity, I had hoped that she might cause a scene and make a fool of herself in front of the Commander.
However, while the Archmagus proved far more composed than I had hoped, there were other unicorn nobles who proved quite willing to display a general lack of basic civility. A particularly haughty-looking white unicorn pointedly swatted his bowl of stew aside, upending its contents into the clouds. “This is servants’ food!” Though I did not recall the name of the noble at the time, I vaguely recognized him as the one who had remarked that Sunbeam’s foal-murder was fully justified due to the child’s tainted bloodline.
Sunbeam Sparkle spared a disdainful glance for her fellow unicorn. “And once more, Duke Polaris shows the grace, sophistication, and impeccable manners of the unicorn race.”
“I take it he is not your ally?” If Archmagus Sparkle had enemies, it might prove worthwhile to learn more of them. While I had little use for a pony who by all appearances displayed the worst traits of the unicorn nobility, we did share a common enemy. Prudence dictated that I at least consider the possibility of pursuing some level of cooperation in fulfilling our mutual interests.
“He is not,” the Archmagus confirmed. “He strongly opposed my appointment as both Archmagus of Canterlot and as the Grand Vizier of Unicornia.” She let out a disdainful snort. “Duke Polaris places far too much importance upon matters of breeding and bloodline, and far too little upon actual competency. He finds the idea that anypony who is not of the nobility might hold a position of importance in Unicornian society ... distasteful.”
While this confirmed that I would not wish to make common cause with this Duke Polaris, save at the utmost necessity, she revealed one intriguing piece of information. “You are not of the nobility?”
An amused smile crossed her face. “Ah, have I ruined your preconceptions of me? Does it spoil your image of who I am, to know that I was born in the simple home of a mere glassblower rather than a fine palace? That I have fought and struggled for every scrap of privilege I now hold, rather than simply being born with a silver spoon in my mouth?” (4)
4: Records indicate that the Sparkles were a reasonably prominent crafting family in Canterlot prior to Sunbeam’s meteoric rise through Unicornian politics. A master craftsmare could live quite comfortably, but they were still fairly low on the social totem pole. The relatively minor House Lulamoon held the glass manufacturing license at the time, thus making the Sparkles their employees. In the antebellum era, it was incredibly unusual for a nominal servant of a minor house like Sunbeam to have power over the heads of major houses, such as Duke Polaris.
Curiously, my first thought in reaction to this particular revelation was that it explained her tolerance for the less refined cuisine of Pegasopolis. The mind can work in mysterious ways.
The Archmagus’ smile turned mocking as she turned to my father. “Sir, I am certain that when you raised your daughter, you saw to it that she wanted for nothing, and had every opportunity to reach her full potential. Is that not so?”
“It is,” Father confirmed. “What parent would do otherwise?”
“One whose resources were too limited to allow for such, I would imagine,” Sunbeam Sparkle answered him. “For all the talk of how Pegasopolis chooses leaders solely on the basis of merit, I note that all of the current ephors are the children of great clans, and most of them boast ephors, geronts, and other high officials within their immediate family. Upon your own retirement, Shadow all but inherited your office, is that not so?”
“I abstained from voting on the matter,” Father answered tersely. “My fellow Ephors felt her to be the best choice of the available candidates. I will thank you not to question her ability, or my own judgment while you are a guest at our table.”
“I apologize, if my words gave offense. Such was not my intention.” Sunbeam dipped her head in a wasted gesture of humility. “I merely sought to engage in a philosophical discussion of differing systems of government and society, not to question your daughter’s competence.” She gave me an insincere smile as continued. “By all reports, she slaughtered the griffons most effectively. However, I cannot help but wonder if your own position as an ephor and paterfamilias of a major clan allowed her opportunities to hone her skills which other ponies did not enjoy.”
Much as I would have enjoyed proving her wrong, in truth I could not argue the point. Father saw to my education in both physical and mental aspects of warfare, and I have done much the same with Gale in turn. ‘Tis only natural that a parent equip their child for success in later life. ‘Twas hard to dispute that an Ephor and clan leader could offer their children more opportunities than an ordinary warrior.
However, the very matter of my daughter also showed the flaw in Sunbeam’s reasoning. One I was quick to point out. “It is true that many privileges come to the children of clan leaders.” The Archmagus turned to face me, a polite smile on her face as she listened. “However, we do not coddle our foals—if I received a superior education, it is only because I showed superior ability. And when ponies who show potential for greatness are found outside the clans, such as my own daughter, we are quick to bring them into the fold and offer them the opportunity to reach their full potential.” I fell silent for a moment to confirm my thoughts before stating my conclusion. “While ‘tis true that Pegasopolis is imperfect, ‘tis a far superior system to all alternatives I have seen.”
“Does not everypony think that of their homeland?” Sunbeam Sparkle countered. “And I might also point out that your entire society is incomplete. As with the other pony tribes, you are but parts of a greater whole. Without earth pony and unicorn support, Pegasopolis would not be viable.”
“One could say much the same of Unicornia as well,” I grumbled, returning to my stew so that I would not be required to answer her further.
“Indeed,” the Archmagus conceded. “Which is why it is my desire to make Equestria a single unified whole, rather than three incomplete parts.”
And I am sure the fact that doing so would substantially increase her own personal power had no bearing in her thoughts. Still, the revelation regarding the status of her birth was intriguing. Though it did not diminish my distaste for her as a pony, ‘twas difficult not to respect the qualities needed for a pony of common birth to rise to such heights in Unicornia.
Any further discussion on matters of government and society was forestalled when I noted the ancient Dawnburst Charger approaching Commander Celestia’s table, as always leaning heavily on his granddaughter for support. “Commander, I would ask something of you.” Despite his advanced age, Dawnburst’s voice was still deep and strong, though he spoke with the sort of careful deliberation that marked a mind which was on the verge of slowing.
The Commander favored him with a gentle smile. “Ask, Dawnburst.”
“I have heard rumors that trouble me.” The ancient geront paused for a bit to gather his thoughts, then continued. “It is said that the government of Pegasopolis no longer enjoys your trust or approval. I would ask you whether this is true.”
The question unsettled me, but I suppose it was not surprising that there would be such concerns. The Commander’s disapproval of our actions in Griffonia was no secret. That is not to mention other matters, such as the Clipping investigations that were soon to occupy my time now that Sunbeam Sparkle had arrived in Cloudsdale.
The Commander took a long moment to consider her answer, then replied, “I have every confidence in the Ephorate and Gerousia’s continued ability to govern Pegasopolis.” She delicately cleared her throat, and her voice shifted to a lighter, almost playful tone. “Now, let us speak of happier affairs. Neigh, let us not speak at all. The stew is done, and ‘tis time we moved to the best part of any meal: dessert. Your Commander wishes to feast upon cake until she can stomach no more.”
A painful silence descended over the hall. Even if we had the needed materials, baking is all but impossible with traditional pegasi cooking methods.
Commander Celestia’s face slowly fell as realization struck. “Ah. So be it. ‘Twould seem that certain adjustments will be required during my stay here.”
Swift Blade came to my clanhold the morning after the rather disastrous welcoming feast for Commander Celestia. His business was an easy enough matter to foresee: with Sunbeam’s investigation into Clippings set to begin, it was only natural that he would come to me to discuss the matter. Though he had taken the burden of organizing the investigation off of my hooves while other matters demanded my attention, the responsibility had been given to me by the Commander, and if aught went amiss I would share responsibility for the failure.
‘Twas a curious thing, but my clanhold felt oddly empty with my daughter absent whilst she attended to her new duties as hetairoi to the Commander. Though her absence was but temporary, I found myself noting it all the more. I have grown used to my daughter’s presence at my side.
I met my fellow ephor in the mess hall as we both broke our fast. Though a meeting between two ephors would naturally draw some level of idle curiosity, my clanmates gave us a respectful distance to conduct our conversation undisturbed. His drooped wings, troubled frown, and the way he barely nibbled at his own meal all forewarned me that this meeting was unlikely to be an enjoyable one. His words were quick to confirm my fears.“Ephor Kicker, I am most concerned about the course of this investigation the Commander has ordered.”
“Might you elaborate as to what those concerns are?” I took a bite of my own haybacon-and-cheese omelette. “I presume there are troubles beyond the obvious, such as having a self-confessed unicorn foalslayer interfering in Pegasopolan affairs and presuming to condemn us for mistreatment of foals.”
“Indeed there are.” Swift poked at his own omelette a few times before he continued. “The Archmagus is bringing in numerous Unicornian investigators to oversee the matter, rather than leaving things in our capable hooves. She claims that there is a culture of corruption in Pegasopolis regarding the matter of Clippings, and that only outsiders might properly investigate this issue.”
Much as I would have liked to agree with my fellow ephor, my mind went back to Gale’s story of her time in the Patrol. Though I am loathe to admit it, there might be some validity to the Archmagus’ position. If nothing else, the simple fact that I and every other pegasus in Cloudsdale believed this investigation to be a waste of time and effort that would produce no results showed that we were less than ideal choices for the matter. Would I do my utmost to uncover a truth I did not wish to face? I should like to think that I would, but ponies have been known to shy away from unpleasant truths, especially those that are not flattering to themselves and their societies.
I answered with careful deliberation. “Let her investigate however she pleases, save that she does not fabricate evidence or falsify charges. I would not have it said that we made efforts to impede her investigation because we feared what it might reveal.”
I did not speak the other half of my thoughts—that if there was anything to discover, I would rather see it dragged into the light of truth than hidden to preserve the good name of Pegasopolis. Concealing the crime might save our reputation in the short term, but it would ultimately do far more lasting damage to Pegasopolis. The acts of a few fools and deviants are one matter; ‘tis quite another when society and ponies of power are complicit in such acts. In concealing the crime, we would sully ourselves as badly as those who committed it.
“She has created a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Swift Blade opined. “By removing the gendarmes from the process and showing her lack of regard for them, she has all but ensured that they will not put forth their utmost effort.”
“Then we must do all that is within our power to ensure that the ponies under our command do not play into her hooves.” I occupied myself with my meal as I strategized. “It is no doubt her intention to use any perceived lack of cooperation from the Pegasopolan government to create a rift between the Ephorate and the Commander. Her ambition is such that she’ll not be content with anything less than the absolute control of all Equestria, by virtue of being the only pony in whom the Commander holds any confidence.”
“On that, we are in agreement.” Swift turned to his own meal, his appetite seemingly restored. “If she would seek to make us seem uncooperative, then let us make it clear that the Commander shall have our full cooperation on this matter. Steel Striker has already opened his clanhold to inspection, and I think ‘twould be wise for the other ephors to follow his example. Let us show all Equestria that we have nothing to hide.”
I gave a sharp nod. “I think that a wise response. You will inform the other ephors of our agreement on this matter?”
“I will.” Swift Blade finished the last of his omelette. “With myself, you, and Steel already pursuing this course, I cannot imagine Rightly and Bright will not move in step with us. If the Archmagus of Canterlot would sever us from Commander Celestia, let us show our loyalty to her is unshaken despite Sunbeam Sparkle’s manipulations.” Swift then fell silent, his determined grimace slowly fading into a troubled frown. “Though I do wonder ... why does the Commander continue to retain her services? ‘Tis obvious to all with eyes that Sunbeam Sparkle is naught but a schemer and a villain. Why is it that the Commander holds her in high regard, whilst her faithful subordinates must prove themselves to her?”
“You are not the only one who is troubled by that matter,” I confessed to him. “However, I am certain that the Commander has her reasons for acting as she does. We must have faith in her.”
“I confess that my faith is shaken.” Swift heaved out a sigh. “It is a troubling thing, when I can read of the reign of any previous Commander and find the current one wanting by comparison.”
“Mind your words, Swift Blade!” I was somewhat surprised at just how heated my tone was, and took measures to moderate it before I continued. “While Commander Celestia is imperfect, everything she has done, every action she takes, is for the ultimate good of Pegasopolis and all Equestria. Better by far to have a Commander who aspires to make a better world, and stumbles when walking that path.”
Swift let out a skeptical grunt. “High ideals are all well and good, but ‘tis growing harder and harder to overlook the more practical problems that beset us.”
It was sorely troubling, to hear one of my fellow ephors speaking of Commander Celestia so. “Let us be done with this. The sooner this matter of Clippings is resolved, the sooner we can all return things to their proper order”
Swift Blade looked at me askance. “Do you truly believe all these troubles will end when we resolve the matter of Clippings?”
I knew the answer to that, but I could not bring myself to say it.
Two days later, the inspection of the Kicker Clanhold began.
The clan was under strict orders to go about their daily business as if nothing unusual were occurring. I did not wish to make a production of this—best for all concerned if the inspectors arrived, completed their appointed task swiftly, and went on about their business. While I might have harbored some small fears that there were Clippings to be found somewhere in Pegasopolis, I knew with absolute certainty that there had been none within my own clan.
I met the inspectors at the entrance to the clanhold, accompanied by my father. The party consisted of three unicorns, along with a single pegasus gendarme who seemed mildly ashamed to be seen associating with the unicorns.
The apparent leader of the trio was white of coat and broad in the chest and shoulders; one of the better-built unicorn stallions I’d seen. The stallion carried himself like one who was accustomed to battle. That was an intelligent move of the Archmagus’ part—most pegasi would have more respect for a proper soldier than for mere functionaries. He offered a salute to my father and myself once he stood before us. “Ephor, Geront. I am Sir Radiant Day of the Order of the Unconquerable Sun, and I will be conducting the inspection of your clanhold.”
I returned his salute. “I am Shadow of the Ephorate, and this is my father, Cyclone of the Gerousia.” There was little point in wasting the breath of speaking our clan names. “Might I know the rest of your party?” I saw no reason not to address him formally—if nothing else, he had shown me and my father sufficient respect to have earned it in turn.
“It would be my pleasure to introduce them, ephor.” He turned to the mare of his trio, whose dull greyish-brown coat gave her an unseemly air. “This is Inspector-Sergeant First Glance of the Canterlot Royal Police.” The mare offered us a curt nod, but offered no further acknowledgement.
Radiant Day turned to the other stallion in his group, who was not of anywhere near the same physical stature as his commanding officer. “And this is Detective Gentle Heart, also of the Canterlot Royal Police, a specialist in foal cases.” The detective stepped forward and offered his hoof, only to drop it a moment later with a sheepish chuckle.
Radiant Day did not introduce the gendarme accompanying them, who had already begun to move off to side in effort to distance himself from the unicorns. Clearly Swift Blade’s fears that the gendarmerie would be less than cooperative in this investigation were well-founded. While the gendarmes would not outright disobey their orders to assist in the investigation, there are many ways for a soldier to display their discontent. I turned to Radiant Day. “I presume the gendarme’s orders were to escort you to my clan’s compound?”
“Indeed.” A slight frown crossed the unicorn knight’s face. “And ‘twould seem that those orders have been fulfilled to the letter.” That was an old device of the discontented soldier—to fulfill an order in its most literal meaning whilst exerting the barest of efforts needed to do so, and showing none of the initiative or good judgment that makes a true soldier superior to a mere golem.
I was tempted to pursue the departing soldier and have words with him about his less-than-sincere effort to do his duty. There would be little point to the exercise, though. What could I do, other than order him to cease his malingering? The true cause of his discontent, the presence of the Unicornian officials, lay beyond my power to control. Even if I could browbeat a single soldier into exerting his utmost efforts, it would only be a single gendarme out of the dozens assigned to assist in the investigation. It would have no more effect than dispersing a single cloud in the midst of a thunderstorm.
“Well,” Father spoke up, stirring me out of my thoughts. “Shall we proceed with this?”
“Yes, let us be done with it.” The gendarme’s departure had soured my mood considerably, and despite my best efforts to conceal it, some of my discontent showed in my tone. I took a breath and tried to calm my ire at circumstances beyond my power to influence, then turned to the inspectors. “There is much to do, and little time to see it done. I am certain you have many other tasks yet undone, so I’ll not occupy more of your time than needed to complete this inspection.”
“Nor will we occupy more of your own time than we require, Ephor,” Radiant Day answered me.
At that statement, First Glance gave a perturbed snort. “We’ll not take more time than is needful, but neither shall we be lax in our efforts.”
“Naturally.” Radiant Day spared an aggrieved look for his subordinate. I suspect that he might have been experiencing some difficulty in his command. While placing a warrior in charge of the inspection team was a prudent measure for ensuring a level of respect between the teams and the pegasi, it created internal problems. The unicorns traditionally left law enforcement in civilian hooves rather than simply including those functions within the purview of the military. Pegasopolis’ own gendarmes would chafe at being under the command of officers from other branches—how much more would these civilian law enforcement officials resent being under military command?
However, such concerns were a matter for Radiant Day and his temporary subordinates to resolve amongst themselves. It was none of my affair, and any action I might attempt to take on the matter would only serve to call attention to that very rift. Best then to simply let it go unremarked.
Father chose that moment to offer his own thoughts, with his usual level of diplomacy and tact. “Might I ask how this whole affair is to proceed? Will the three of you simply go about the compound, ensuring that all our young do, in fact, still retain the use of their wings?”
There are times when I suspect that Father enjoys the privileges that accompany old age and disability far more than he should. As a warrior, he had been required to mind his words, lest he give offense and find himself challenged to juris ungula. Now, as a geront and blind pony both, he could speak his mind without fear of retaliation. None but the most dishonorable would dare to raise a hoof against him. ‘Twas one of the most important functions of Gerousia—the right to speak those truths many find uncomfortable or even offensive without facing the threat of juris ungula.
An ephor, by contrast, needed to remain mindful of juris at all times. ‘Twould be far too easy for my words to give grave offense to somepony, and not all of those challenges could be ignored. Were Sunbeam Sparkle of Pegasopolis, we likely already would have come to blows over our disagreement. As it was, the Commander’s clear disapproval of the conflict and our own uncertainty as to who would prove the ultimate victor in such a clash stayed our hooves.
Radiant Day politely cleared his throat. “We had thought to begin with an inspection of your clan’s training facilities and methods. As this whole Clipping business is said to stem from ponies showing inadequacies during their training periods, it seems a reasonable enough place to begin. Afterwards, I would like to see the clan’s medical records, so that we might speak with any ponies who’ve suffered crippling injuries to their wings.”
First Glance nodded, pursing her lips. “While I suspect the vast bulk of them will be naught but normal injuries sustained in the line of duty, ‘tis standard procedure to speak with any potential victim. I’ll not leave any stone unturned in this investigation.”
“If I might, I would also like to speak with the clan’s foals,” Gentle Heart added. “Just a few simple questions, to confirm that there is nothing amiss.”
While this whole proceeding still displeased me, it seemed that at the least ‘twould be over quickly and without undue difficulty. The only potential point of conflict lay in the possibility that some of my clan’s young or crippled might speak some falsehood simply for the attention and notoriety that such a claim would bring. I did not think such a thing likely, however—Clan Kicker is far too disciplined to engage in such foolishness.
“Let us be done with it, then.” The words came out harsher and more dismissive than I’d intended, so I took a moment to attempt to moderate my tone. “The sooner we begin, the sooner we can finish, and you can move to more productive uses of your time.” ‘Twould seem my efforts at moderation had been less than wholly successful. ”I apologize for my tone, inspectors. Times have been most trying, of late.”
“It is quite understandable, Ephor.” His magnanimity only increased my opinion of Radiant Day. “These times have not been easy for any. We shall endeavour to see this matter concluded a swiftly as can be done without compromising the integrity of our investigation.”
“You have my thanks.” I offered them a slight nod. “Onward, then.”
I led them first to our training yards. More than two dozen colts and fillies of an age suitable to receiving proper instruction were in the midst of their exercises. (5) Half the foals were at practice against training dummies, while several others were working their way through a series of basic wing-blade maneuvers. A final trio of the youngest ponies stood off to the side, trying their hooves at various weapons to find whichever suited them best.
5: Formal military training in Pegasopolis began at the age of seven. However, it was fairly common for informal instruction to start even earlier, though that was usually little more than laying a foundation and training the young colts and fillies how to avoid hurting themselves while attempting to imitate their elders.
Stalwart was in the midst of practicing his true vocation. While he was a most effective sergeant and leader of ponies in battle, his greatest talent lay in the instruction of others. Many a common soldier or young officer had benefited greatly from his tutelage. Given the nature of the upcoming inspection, I had set him to the training of our young today, which he undertook with his usual effectiveness.
He was not alone in his task of watching over the rambunctious young colts and fillies—I’d set Nimbus to the task of aiding him whilst she recovered from the wounds she’d suffered at the talons of the griffons. ‘Twould allow her a useful way to occupy her time until she was ready to return to active duty, though I’ll confess that I had an ulterior motive: I’d seen a spark of potential in her in the battle at Lubeak, and there were few ponies better suited than Stalwart to bring a pony to the fullest extent of their natural talent. If I could make some use of her beyond that of a mere soldier, ‘twould be thanks in no small part to the efforts of Sergeant Stalwart.
Radiant Day and his two companions began their inspection by holding a brief conversation with Nimbus. After a few pleasantries, First Glance and Gentle Heart moved on to look to other aspects of our facilities, but I noted that Radiant lingered near Nimbus’ side, and the two would periodically exchange words as he went about his business. I noted that they were both of an age that was old enough to leave them mindful of duty, but desirous of the company of an attractive pony of similar age and appearance. Perhaps some good would come of this after all.
Whilst the inspectors looked over the facilities and my kinsmare, I sought out the sergeant. Stalwart was in the midst of helping a filly in her early teens with her stance, until I interrupted the exercise to have words with him. “How does the training progress? Will our new recruits be ready?”
“They will, m’lady.” The sergeant did not even turn his attention from his young charge as he answered me. “The current generation seems passable enough.” He paused to deliver a slight frown to his current student. “Or at least, they will be if Strata here can learn how to hold a proper defensive stance. Otherwise, they are like to die in their first battle.”
Strata met the sergeant’s grumbling with a resentful glower and the sort of obstinate stubbornness and absolute certainty in her own rightness that is all too common with ponies in their adolescence. “My stance is perfectly acceptable, ‘tis only your pedantry that finds fault in it.”
“Thou thinkest that I quibble over details of no consequence, then?” A smirk crossed the sergeant’s face. “Well, let us put the matter to the test, then. Take thy stance in whatever manner pleases thee.”
Strata did so, and I noted that her wings were too far back, and her head too high. If an opponent struck at her, it would be most difficult for her to block the incoming blow before it landed.
The sergeant seemed to share my assessment of her stance. “Thou art prepared, then?”
She nodded, and a second later Stalwart’s hoof caught her across muzzle. The teenager let out an indignant shout, and immediately swung at the sergeant to return the blow. Stalwart, whose combat stance was above repute, easily caught the blow and countered with a sharp jab to the snout. Strata’s eyes crossed from the force of the blow, and she fell to the clouds.
The sergeant let her lie for a few moments to ensure that his lesson had been fully absorbed, and then offered her a hoof up. The trainee took a few moments to wipe her bloodied muzzle and attempt to salvage whatever shreds of tattered dignity she could, then accepted the offer. “My stance still feels better than the way you instruct.” While her words were defiant, her subdued tone and the slump of her shoulders made it clear this was simply a last gesture of pride rather than a true effort to argue the matter any further.
“What feels right is often a poor substitute for what is right,” The sergeant answered her. “In any case, one of the goals of my instruction is to train you to the point that the proper way of doing things is what feels right to you. Now then, let us—”
Whatever the sergeant had intended to say next was lost as one of the inspectors approached us at a rapid trot. Gentle Heart took one look at the filly’s bloodied muzzle, and shot an absolutely furious glare at the sergeant. “Is it the custom of Clan Kicker to beat their children?”
“A beating?” The sergeant offered a bemused look at the indignant stallion, his voice laced with equal parts confusion and incredulity. “That was no beating, merely an object lesson in physical combat. Some younglings will not learn until they’ve acquired a few bumps and bruises.”
“Is that your position, then?” The unicorn let a righteously indignant snort and pulled out a silk kerchief which he put to use cleaning the filly’s bloodied muzzle. “You claim that you beat the girl for her own edification? How far would you go in that? There is a point where it ceases being instruction and becomes nothing more than abuse.”
“Abuse?” Now ‘twas Stalwart’s turn to grow indignant. “Now see here, sir, I’m well aware of precisely how much force to use when striking a child so that the lesson is imparted without inflicting any true harm.”
Strata seemed to recover from her surprise at the situation, and began attempting to ward off the unicorn attempting to play nursemaid to her. “The sergeant is correct. I’m quite unharmed.” A fresh bit of blood dribbling from her nose showed that her assessment was not entirely accurate.
First Glance saw fit to approach and insert herself into the conversation. “You are in the habit of striking young colts and fillies on a regular basis, then?”
“That is not the way his words were meant to be read,” I firmly cut in, lest the matter escalate any further. “Among the sergeant’s responsibilities is the instruction of our trainees in hoof-to-hoof combat techniques. ‘Tis to be expected that he is well acquainted with what level of force is to be used when instructing his charges, no matter their age.”
“I think I should like to see the medical records for your trainees.” First Glance spared a few moments to shoo off several curious trainees before he continued. “It might be interesting to learn how many young colts and fillies have suffered injury while under instruction of the sergeant.”
“Neigh.” What little tolerance I’d been willing to allow the inspectors was rapidly fading in light of the accusations they were leveling against one of my best trainers. “The sergeant is not mistreating any of the colts and fillies entrusted into his care, and I’ll not even dignify the ludicrous notion with a moment’s consideration.”
First Glance shifted her attention to me. “It is your intention then, Ephor, to obstruct the course of this investigation?” Her upper lip curled up in a faint sneer. “You forget, perhaps, that our investigation has been authorized by the Queen herself. You cannot hide from justice behind your rank and status.”
“Hide from justice?” I repeated the words incredulously. “I’ve nothing to hide, but what you suggest is naught but foolishness. The sergeant has treated his charges no differently than any other instructor, and far more leniently than some.” When my late father had undertaken my own instruction, I would have been quite fortunate to act as Strata did and receive only a bloodied nose for it. Clay Striker was not a very gentle pony, though every harm he’d done me had led to my betterment as a warrior. Father and I both still missed him dearly.
Gentle Heart interpreted my words in the most negative light possible. “So there are other clans which mistreat their foals even more badly than yours?
“Not amongst the pegasi. Mistreatment is mercifully rare, and swiftly dealt with by the clan.” My mind went back to a certain Archmagus of Canterlot. “Meanwhile, in Unicornia a foalslayer can be publicly honored for her deeds.”
At that point Father stepped between the two sides, moving slowly with a single foreleg extended, as if he were searching. “If I am to separate the two sides and send both to opposite corners of the compound, this investigation shall be significantly hampered. In no small part due to how long it takes me to find the corners in recent days.”
Father’s jest did offer a brief reprieve from the budding clash, if nothing else. More importantly, it finally seemed to draw Radiant Day’s attention away from Nimbus, and towards the budding clash between my clan and his subordinates. Reminded that he had greater duties than socializing with attractive mares, he all but galloped to the scene. “What passes here?”
Gentle Heart was first to answer him, leveling an accusing hoof at Stalwart. “He struck one of the foals under his care, in plain view of all!”
Radiant stepped up and looked over Strata’s injuries, such as they were. After a quick glance, he gave a thoroughly unworried shrug. “I suffered far worse in the training yard in my day.” A faint grin quirked the corners of his mouth. “If a soft and pampered unicorn noble can suffer through such wounds, I am sure the battle-hardened warriors of Pegasopolis can endure them as well.”
“Sir,” First Glance ground out with barely-concealed displeasure, “I think you dismiss the matter too quickly. It bears further investigation.”
“Our task,” Radiant Day firmly reminded his subordinate, “is to investigate whether there are Clippings occurring within this clanhold. Not to question every single aspect of Pegasopolan society. The Archmagus’ instructions were quite clear: we are here to investigate actual cases of mutilation and severe abuse, not to waste time chasing after the cause of every minor little bruise. Even if their training methods were overly harsh by our standards, which I’ll note that they are not, it is none of our concern.”
Gentle Heart opened his mouth to voice an objection, but Strata put a hoof against the stallion’s chest, and roughly shoved him back. “Have a care when you accuse any within my clan of mistreatment,” the filly growled. “Such could easily be seen as an insult grave enough to require juris ungula as an answer. I do not think you would enjoy that.”
The implied threat in those words cowed Gentle Heart and First Glance both, in part because the words came from the very filly they purported to protect. Radiant was quick to seize upon the opportunity to reassert control over the civilians under his command. “If we are quite done with this diversion, there is much actual work to be done. Let us go about it.” The unicorn knight set off at a brisk pace, which the two civilians scrambled to match.
As they departed, I heard a faint wistful sigh from the general direction of Nimbus. Father did not fail to note it either. “Ha! ‘Twould seem that Nimbus is smitten!” The young mare’s cheeks flushed at the accusation, but she did not deny it. “No matter,” Father continued, “she is of an age where such things are to be expected. Besides, he did have a rather handsome voice. Were I a decade or two younger and in better health, I might try to claim him for myself. Pity my eyes do not allow me to appreciate the rest of him.” He trotted over to my younger kinsmare and offered a teasing grin. “Tell me, Nimbus, didst thou find him fine to look upon?”
“I did not think to look upon him in such a way, sir,” Nimbus mumbled, the blush putting the lie to her words even as they left her mouth. “But if asked to comment, I would say that he was not uncomely.”
“Surprisingly well-built for a unicorn,” Stalwart commented.
“That he was,” I agreed. “Though too young for my tastes. Of an age with Nimbus though, and judging by his actions, at least as taken with her as she is with him. Mayhaps ‘twould be proper for me to make inquiries with his family. I would not have it be said that I have been remiss in my duties as materfamilias by not making suitable arrangements to wed the clan’s young.” (6)
6: While Pegasopolis did not practice arranged marriage, it was customary for clan leaders to contact each other regarding courtships. Usually, this was just done to ensure that the pony in question was not already in a committed relationship, and avoid other potential issues like incompatible orientation or attempting to court a pony who was still in mourning for a lost spouse/lover. Barring those issues or some other problem that rendered the courting party unsuitable, permission to court was almost always granted.
‘Twas perhaps a touch cruel of me, but as often happens in the wake of tension, we all sought a jest to calm our nerves, and Nimbus offered a ready target. ‘Twas a relief, to see her make the transition from soldier horribly wounded by griffons to an ordinary young mare flush at the prospect of love, or at least the beginnings of desire. Every warrior will at times benefit from remembering that there is more to our lives than the ne’erending battles to ensure Equestria’s safety. For a brief moment, I envied her.
My own efforts in that arena have been less than successful. I’ve had my share of brief liasons, but my efforts at securing something more substantive had not borne fruit. Then I had the misfortune of becoming smitten with a pony already wed. Rightly was not one who could ever be disloyal to his wife, and I could not even have the pleasure of hating Brave Charger or thinking her some unworthy harpy who had stolen that which I desired. She was too fine a mare for me to harbor such thoughts.
‘Twas a difficult thing, to see the mare who stood in my way perish ‘pon the birthing bed. For all that I wished to mourn her as any decent pony should, a treacherous part of my heart could not help but note that now the path before me lay clear. That even as Rightly suffered the pain of his losses, a part of my mind counted the days until the period of mourning would end, and I could make my interest known without feeling any guilt or being forced to listen to any clicking of tongues from Pegasopolan society.
“I’ve a sudden wish to see Ephor Doo.” I did not even realize that I had spoken the thought aloud until I heard the words.
To my surprise, Nimbus let out an amused little titter. “Truly? ‘Twould seem that I am not the only mare who is smitten with a fine stallion.”
I turned upon the young mare, and fixed her with a disapproving glower I normally reserved for particularly unruly soldiers. Nimbus immediately shrank back, her ears going flat against her head and her voice coming out as little more than a frightened squeak. “M-my apologies, m’lady.”
Father let out a snort. “Have mercy on the poor mare, Shadow, ‘twas a harmless jest.” I ceased my glaring, and offered a slight apologetic smile. Then Father spoke again. “Besides, she’s right.”
Father can be most vexing.
Upon arrival at the Doo clanhold, I found the Doos in a state of intense agitation. ‘Twas not so much a matter of ponies scrambling about or talking amongst themselves, but rather a sense of quietude that was most unlike the usually warm and welcoming clanhold. I would wonder at what caused such a dramatic shift in the clan’s mood, but I had premonition that the grim mood was a product of the very same thing that had upset me a short time previously. My clanhold could not be the only one to be visited by the Commander’s inspectors.
I found Rightly in his office, quite alone. That in and of itself was unusual—though ‘twould not have been odd for him to meet with me in private for a planned visit, when I simply came to his clanhold unannounced I would usually find him in the midst of seeing to the duties of clan leader and ephor. For him to idle away the hours in isolation was both unusual and troubling.
I sealed the entrance behind myself after entering, and cleared my throat to announce my presence. Rightly looked to me and gave a vague sort of grunt in acknowledgement, but said nothing. Though ‘twas clear that he was not in a mood to speak, I did so regardless. “What has passed within thy clanhold?”
The words seemed to snap him out of whatever dark thoughts occupied his mind, and he remembered his manners, rising to greet me with a strained smile and forced politeness. “My apologies, Shadow, yesterday was most difficult. This matter of inspection has left me ... wroth. I do not consider myself an impetuous stallion, yet I find myself impatient to see the end of this farce.”
Those words surprised me. Rightly was not a pony given to fits of temper; by nature, he tends to be of a phlegmatic disposition. I cannot recall the last time I’d seen him so much as raise his voice, but now his shoulders were trembling with barely-suppressed fury. ‘Twas a most unsettling sight, and one I took haste to correct with gentle, understanding words. “I was less than pleased with their visit to my clan's compound as well.”
“The silence from the Kicker compound was almost typical,” Rightly observed after a few calming breaths. “I applaud thy restraint, or else thy silent expediency in removing the problem.”
“Indeed? Things did not seem so silent from within the compound itself.” Even as I said that, my mind went to the rumors I’d heard about the city on my journey to Rightly’s clanhold. “I have heard it said in the streets that Bright all but assaulted the inspectors sent to her clanhold.” I would not be surprised if that rumor were truth; Bright’s impulsiveness would lend itself easily to quick and violent action if she felt the honor of her clan to be threatened.
Rightly let out a snort that carried an atypical note of dark amusement. “I would have given many units of the groundsiders’ ... mondays, to have witnessed that.”
“Money, dear Rightly,” I gently corrected him.
Rightly let out an annoyed grumble and gave a dismissive wave of his hoof. The sight of him acting in such a manner brought a smile to my lips, and might have prompted a laugh had his own mood been less sour. As it was, I contented myself with gazing upon him, letting my loving smile convey all that my words could not.
Rightly returned my smile, and for a brief time all the troubles of recent days seemed far less burdensome. Sadly, ‘twas but a single tender moment, and all too fleeting. Rightly turned his gaze from mine, and a scowl darkened his countenance once more. “I would have preferred Bright to have begun at my clanhold. I had words with our esteemed inspectors, though I much desired actions. Cultural ignorance does not excuse their actions, nor exempt them from any consequences.”
My curiosity as to what could have pushed Rightly to such fury overcame my prudence. “What was said?”
Rightly’s forelegs shifted as his hooves ground the cloud beneath him into naught but loose moisture. After a long silence, he answered my question through clenched teeth. “I was questioned regarding my involvement in Brave's foaling. The Commander’s inspectors were...” Rightly trailed off, no doubt struggling to find a word that could convey the depth of his fury whilst remaining suitable for polite conversation. “They were kind enough to find me faultless in the passing of her and our child, though some still felt that the matter merited further investigation.”
My eyes went wide from shock, and I felt my choler rise. “Surely they did not?!”
“They did.” The words came out as a tight, furious growl. “There is no excuse for such a barb. None.”
I gave a sharp nod. “I am surprised none of thy clan sought juris ungula over the matter.” Had I been present when such slanderous words were uttered, I surely would have, e’en if it meant going against social custom by challenging a lesser.
“Many within my clan wished to do so, but I forbade it. I’ll not have the blood of the Commander’s chosen envoys shed within my clanhold.” Rightly’s wings moved in a slight shrug, as if even now he questioned the rightness of that action. “Though never have I been so tempted to allow myself a lapse in moral judgment. As it was, I had no choice but to remind their accompanying gendarme that his service was toward their protection.” He met my eyes. “This Unicornian jest played itself out 'fore the Commander sought dessert. ‘Tis past time it ended.”
“It has gone poorly.” I agreed. ‘Twas most chilling to think that the disastrous reception at my own clanhold was likely the most successful of all the inspections to date.
“Thou dost possess a talent for understatement, Shadow.” Rightly’s eyes narrowed, and the anger in his voice faded, with a note of inflexible determination taking its place. “We do not answer to the Queen of Unicornia, nor the Archmagus which holds her lead. Commander Celestia has forgotten herself.”
“Her intentions are just,” I argued in her defense. “The problem lies not in her desire to see justice done or our young protected, but in the execution of her policies. Or more specifically, the ponies chosen to bring her desires to fruition.” I suspect that this investigation would have proceeded with far less trouble absent the involvement of a certain Archmagus.
Even as the thought entered my mind, I saw the flaw in it: Archmagus Sparkle was many things, but she was not an incompetent. I would not hesitate to accuse her of plotting to improve her own lot at the expense of others, but the acts of the inspectors were too petty and pointless. They seemed the sort of small-minded cruelties inflicted by ponies of low character revelling in their temporary power over their betters, not the carefully measured movements of a master schemer.
“Did the Commander not choose and instruct her investigators? Does she not hold responsibility for choosing such unsuitable ponies?” Though it pained me admit it, his point was well-made. If I were to appoint an incompetent to a position of great importance, my own judgment would be questioned by those within my clan (7).
7: In Celestia’s defense, they had less than a month to throw the investigation team together. It would be rather difficult to properly vet all the ponies involved, or train them all in the intricacies of Pegasopolan culture. Though that does show that her timeline was unrealistically short, it probably would have looked very bad for everypony involved if there were any more Clippings before the team was finished getting organized.
Rightly fell silent for a time, then gave a single nod, as if he had resolved his mind. “I intend to summon the other Ephors and put an end to this madness before the fools provoke somepony and blood is shed. These foreign inspections undermine the Commander's words of faith in us. Though she may claim otherwise when asked, her actions show that she does not believe us capable of governing ourselves absent a leash held in the hoof of a horned taskmaster.”
Though I shared much of his opinion, I felt compelled to offer at least some token defense of the Commander. “There is some reason to think an outside perspective might be of value in uncovering those flaws within our own society which we might be blind to.”
“Whatever value an outside perspective might offer is more than offset by the acts of those chosen to provide it,” Rightly countered, stomping the floor.“Before this travesty, I might have been willing to work alongside the Commander’s agents from the other tribes; but I doubt I am alone when I say that this lapse in judgement shan't be allowed to happen a second time. We shall police ourselves, and pay no heed to the wagging of tongues in Canterlot.”
The anger in his voice, and fact that his bile was aimed principally at Commander Celestia, greatly unsettled me. “You judge Commander Celestia too harshly, Rightly. She has erred in this, but she tries to do what is best for Equestria.”
“Unicornia is not Equestria, Shadow.” Rightly scowled down at the floor. “Too long has she absented herself from Pegasopolis. Neigh, ‘tis not even that, for she was never truly ‘mongst us; in the time of the Two Sisters, we were Luna’s favored children. ‘Twould seem that even though we refused to support Commander Luna when she sought her sister’s overthrow, we are to be punished for that.” Rightly fell silent for some time, then hesitantly gave voice to his darkest thoughts. “I cannot help but wonder, now, if perhaps our ancestors did not make the correct choice.”
Those words shook me to the core. ‘Twas one thing to note where the Commander has erred, but ‘twas quite another to even entertain the thought of turning on her. “Rightly! I pray thee, do not speak of such things!”
“Peace, Shadow.” Rightly forestalled me with an upraised hoof. “Do not heed words spoken in anger. Though I am wroth with her, I would not truly wish to act against Commander Celestia. However, that such dark thoughts might even enter my mind troubles me greatly.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between us, as I struggled to think how I might respond to such words. Ultimately, I decided that no mere words could suffice. I stepped up to his side, closer than was strictly appropriate for a mere friend, but rather than object to my rather forward behavior, he simply met my eyes and gave a small nod. Emboldened by his tacit approval, I spoke. “I am ... saddened, to see thee so pained. ‘Tis like I have been wounded in turn.”
Rightly’s voice turned gentle, all anger fleeing from it as tender words left his lips. “I would not see thee so wounded.”
I finished my approach and hesitantly brought a hoof up, wanting nothing more but to touch him, yet hesitant to do so. Rightly made no move to stop the gesture, and the pain in his eyes told me he would welcome my touch. “I would ask for thy presence later, when I address our fellow ephors. Yet ... now, also.”
With his unspoken permission, I closed the distance and stroked his cheek. “I would be at thy side, whenever thou might require me.”
Rightly not only accepted my touch, but gently nuzzled my hoof in turn. “My thanks, dear Shadow.”
My heart soared upon hearing such words from him. “Always, dear Rightly.” I licked my lips as I gathered my courage to speak the most dangerous words I’d ever uttered. “I hope that a time soon comes when we might speak of better things than these troubles.”
“Such is my hope as well.” Rightly leaned towards me, so that our muzzles were separated by the barest of distances. “I would hear happier words flow from thy lips.”
“And I from thee.” I was sorely tempted to seek his lips with my own. Many would say that I would find no better opportunity for it, and ‘twas clear that we greatly desired to do away with the shackles of propriety. That we would like nothing better than to share a tender embrace and gentle kisses. But such a thing could not be, not when the wound of his wife’s death not only remained open, but had been freshly reopened and filled with salt by the callous words of Sunbeam’s inspectors.
We held our position for a time, silently sharing each other’s presence and taking what little comfort we could offer one another. Alas, we could not do so indefinitely. I reluctantly removed my hoof from his cheek. “We must not ... duty calls us both.”
“Aye.” Rightly closed his eyes, then took a deliberate step back from me, returning to a professional distance. “We must gather the Ephors, so that we might meet with the Commander as soon as possible.”
“Yes, of course.”
Before we could depart to begin that task, one of Rightly’s kin burst through the wall. “Forgive me milord, and lady Ephor.” The young stallion took several gasping breaths, as if he had just flown here at great speed. Once he’d recovered, he glanced between the two of us, his flushed cheeks showing that he clearly feared some retribution for intruding on our private conversation. My interest in Rightly was no great secret within my own clan—’twas quite possible that much the same was the case for Rightly within his. ‘Twould explain why I’d never been challenged upon entering the Doo clanhold and requesting private conversation with him.
Rightly nodded to the young stallion. “I trust thou wouldst not have interrupted us save for a matter of greatest need. Speak, then.”
“Milord, it is Valiant and some of the others,” the stallion gasped out. “They’ve cornered one of the inspectors in the central agora! I think they mean to claim her life for the insult she offered you!” (8)
8: The agora was a traditional Pegasopolan gathering place. While the agora began as a mustering ground for military units, during peacetime ponies would regularly meet at the agora to discuss political affairs, listen to epic poems and musical compositions, and generally mingle.
Rightly and I exchanged a single look, and nodded in agreement. Whatever our thoughts on the matter of inspection, we could both agree that murder could not be countenanced. Not even when those who would commit the act were of Rightly’s own clan, and performing the act in defense of his honor.
The two of us made all haste to the agora, accompanied by those Doos who noted their leader’s haste and thought to follow in our wake. It might have been wiser to briefly delay our departure in order to ask the stallion who’d reported the crime for more details as to where the ponies in question might be found—Cloudsdale’s central agora is not a small place—but in our haste we did not think to do so. In any case, we had little difficulty finding them, in no small part due to the substantial crowd that had gathered to bear witness to the spectacle.
Near a dozen pegasi, a mixed group of young mares and stallions from the Doo and Charger clans, were gathered around a single bloodied unicorn. The attackers shifted, and I recognized First Glance.
“This is an outrage!” The inspector shouted, attempting to maintain a brave face despite her obvious disadvantage. “I am an inspector in the service of Her Majesty, the Queen of Unicornia!”
A stallion in Doo armor who had the look of the ringleader of the attacking pegasi let out a derisive scoff. “Oh, thou art a servant of the Queen of Unicornia?” He repeated mockingly. “Well, ‘twould be a very fine thing, save for one slight issue. Though thee and thy kind do not seem to grasp it, thou art no longer in Unicornia. This is Pegasopolis.”
He struck the cloud beneath First Glance’s hooves, and it dispersed.
She fell.