“Duke Blueblood, be reasonable.” The white unicorn placed a hoof on the great table in the center of the council chamber. Her violet mane bounced slightly as she talked. “The fortress of Sel-Paloth is the only thing standing between us and Grypha. You would have us abandon that protection?”
The duke, an older, refined-looking unicorn, shook his head. “Duchess Belle, I understand your concerns, but that 'protection' isn't necessary. Your fears are unfounded.”
“Unfounded?” The duchess scoffed. “Whether or not you choose to believe it, Blueblood, we stand on the brink of war. The griffon kingdom has been biding its time for decades, sitting on our southern border and waiting for an opportunity. An opportunity like the one you’re proposing.”
Princess Celestia sighed to herself. Emmet Blueblood and Celerity Belle were at it again. The Duke of Norhart and the Duchess of Whitetail had never been friends, but as of late their bickering had grown steadily worse.
“Celerity, it’s been six hundred years since the old Empire fell. The Kingdom of Grypha is just its corpse, still rotting in the desert. They have no industry, little trade, and useless land; the griffons are no longer a threat.”
The duchess’s thin veneer of patience cracked. “No longer a threat? Tell that to the families who are taken or killed every week by Gryphan raiding parties. Tell that to the soldiers who have given their lives to defend Southlund. Sel-Paloth is far from a symbolic posting. There is a threat, and I’ve been doing my best to fight it alone for the last ten years. I need more troops.” She glared.
Duke Blueblood shrugged, unimpressed. “I realize you have some history with the griffons, Celerity, but that little scuffle on the border six years ago was barely large enough to call a battle. If the griffons are continuing to harass our citizens, then go ahead. Send out patrols to guard the border. But remove the dedicated garrison. The crown’s coffers are low enough at the moment; we don’t need to spend another three million bits a year to maintain an outpost on the border of a dead kingdom.”
“A dead kingdom? You can’t be serious, Emmet. Don’t you remember the conquest of the southern city-states fifty years ago? They were supposed to put land between our nations after the war, but the griffons have gobbled them up like chicken feed.” Celerity straightened, clapping both hooves down on the table. “And now, the Duchy of Whitetail is the only thing standing between you and the Gryphan army. If we can’t keep the border secure, then the griffons will swarm north and wash over the southern plains, burning and pillaging. You’ll finally see the need for those three million bits, but by then, it’ll be too late.”
“Your warmongering has no place here, Duchess.” Blueblood scowled at Celerity across the table.
Belle raised her forelegs in frustration. “What, you want us to just close our eyes, cover our ears, and hope the griffons just go away? Emmet, you idiot, it doesn’t work like-”
It was time to intervene. “Councilors, please,” said Celestia. “Remain civil, or I will have you both escorted out.”
The room rustled as the councilors shifted restlessly in their seats. The council chamber was a huge circular hall at the base of the Sun Castle, the heart of Equestrian politics. The chamber was carpeted in red, and the walls were decorated with dozens of priceless tapestries. In the center of the chamber was a great circular, marble table. Around the table were arranged fifteen cushions, one for each of the delegates of Equestria’s provinces. At the head of the table was the throne, where the Princess presided over the council when it was in session.
Whitetail and Norhart sat opposite from each other, which was likely for the best. Putting Celerity and Emmet on the same side of the table might have led to blows. Celestia was mildly disappointed in the Duchess’s lack of control regarding Emmet. She’d trained Celerity better than this.
“Celerity is right about the griffon raids, Emmet,” said the Princess. “They fly over the border during the night and steal grain from the fields, terrorizing the Southlunders. An additional three million a year would be a small price to pay for the security of my subjects.”
“But Your Highness,” said the duke, frustrated. “The griffons see that fortress as an insult. It’s a reminder of the old Empire and everything they lost when it fell. Removing the garrison would be a gesture of peace towards Grypha, an offering of friendship between our nations, freely given.”
Duchess Belle could no longer contain herself. “Yes, freely given, and freely taken, no doubt. Followed by the rest of Southlund and the southern plains!”
Celestia’s eyes glinted with steel. “Celerity, that is enough.” The Duchess quailed under her princess’s gaze, mumbling an apology.
Blueblood pressed on. “Duchess Belle has always wanted to increase the size of our military. She means to antagonize the griffons into a full-scale conflict. It is painfully transparent that Celerity’s real goal here is to boost her own army’s strength at the crown's expense.”
“Strength for Whitetail is strength for Equestria,” said the duchess firmly. “Griffons live for a hundred years or more. Combine their lifespans with the tiny amount of land they were afforded after the Great War, add in six hundred years, and you have a serious overpopulation crisis. They don’t have the food to feed themselves. They need to expand, or they’ll all starve. I intend to make sure they don’t do so right into our homeland!”
Blueblood gestured with a hoof. “So let us broker a trade agreement with the griffons. Peace on our border in exchange for shipments of grain.”
“Griffons don’t trade, Emmet.” Celerity snarled. “They steal and burn. They don’t want allies, they want land and slaves to till it. Everypony seems willfully blind to the fact that they’ve been remilitarizing for nearly a century, which, I might add, is in direct violation of the Treaty of Everfree. We’ve let them get away with it for far too long, and now I’m hearing reports that their army is ten times the size of ours. We need to increase our standing military forces.”
The duke’s lips peeled back angrily. “Rumors and speculation. I have yet to see a verified report of anything more than scattered raiding bands from the griffons. Drop the pretense. You want to drive this nation into a war just to feed your own ambitions, Celerity.”
Princess Celestia motioned for the councilors to be silent. “Clearly this issue is larger than the fate of a single fortress.” She turned wearily to the rest of the council. “It is late, and tempers are running high. We’re done for today. This council is adjourned. We will begin again tomorrow at seven ‘o-clock sharp, as usual. Perhaps then heads will have cooled and we can discuss the matter more productively. Good night.”
The councilponies grumbled with discontent. The lesser duchies and other provinces were already starting to fragment along the lines that Emmet and Celerity had drawn. The fight over Sel-Paloth was just the latest round of the endless political war between Norhart and Whitetail. The two leaders had always hated each other on a deeply personal level, but their mutual loathing was beginning to bleed out into the nation’s political atmosphere at large.
Celestia had to watch her step. The entire situation was turning into a powder keg. One wrong move, one hasty judgment could send either Celerity or Emmet off into full-scale violence. There had yet to be any armed conflicts between the two duchies, but both Norhart and Whitetail possessed larger armies than the capital. This fact was not something that had escaped anypony’s notice in trade negotiations over the last several years. Celestia was not pleased with the current balance of power.
Briefly, she fantasized about dissolving the council entirely, and never again having to deal with Emmet Blueblood, but she’d decided long ago that her subjects needed free will above all else. Equestria was not a theocracy. The opinions and judgements of the ponies’ own leaders were of paramount importance, no matter her personal feelings.
She stood from her throne as the last few councilors filed out of the room and yawned. She turned to the royal guardspony at her side. “Inger, would you be so kind as to bring a cup of tea to my quarters?”
The red pegasus bowed deeply. “Of course, milady. I will have it there before you arrive.” He cantered off in the direction of the castle kitchens. She smiled after him. Inger was one of her favorite Firewings. He was deeply loyal and always dependable, although he did have a tendency to forget the spoonful of sugar in her tea.
The Princess looked around to make sure nopony was watching, then cracked her neck. She stretched out, tired from the long day of sitting on the throne listening to the councilponies bicker. She dearly wanted to sleep, but her day was not yet over. There was work to be done in her other office, that of the goddess of sun and moon.
* * *
She ascended the stairs in darkness, without torches to light her way. She could have climbed the steps if she was blind, so often had she walked up to the top of the tower. She made this trip twice a day: once in the morning, when she joyously raised the sun to wake the world; and once in the evening, when she lifted the moon with a heavy heart to begin the night.
She reached the top at last, pushing open the door and stepping out onto the little platform at the peak of the Sun Castle. It was a stone circle four meters in diameter, extending out from the doorway to overlook the entire city of Canterlot below. The sun was deep in the west, the violet sky foretelling the arrival of twilight. Celestia looked out at the land. From here she could see the very tips of the Drakkengard mountains to the west, the sunlight glittering off of Lake Alazure, even the tiny white line of the Great Road.
She had stalled long enough. It was time to complete her task. She stood at the center of the platform and reached out with her magic. She found the moon quickly. She was getting better at it with time, but it never felt as right as the sun did. The moon was not so hot, nor so large, nor so brilliant as her own charge, but it was important nonetheless. She seized hold of it, exerting all her will upon the vast white orb.
The sun disappeared as the moon rose. It was not full tonight, but it was waxing. It would be weeks yet before she could look up and see the shadow of the Mare in the Moon, but Celestia felt its eyes upon her regardless.
Oh, Luna.
It had been three hundred and twenty-two years, two months, five days, thirteen hours, and eleven minutes exactly since that fateful night, when her sister had fallen into darkness. She still remembered the moment, far away in her sister’s own castle at Lunaria, on a platform much like this one. The rage and betrayal in her sister’s eyes had stabbed her like a blade. Time had never really dulled the pain.
She gazed up again at the moon. Luna was up there somewhere, imprisoned on that white sphere. She had to be isolated, starving, and lonely beyond imagining. She might even be wholly repentant. Celestia couldn’t know. She would give anything to bring back her sister, to rule together as they had in ages past, but that feat was beyond her knowledge.
Closing her eyes, Celestia called out to her sister as she had when they both walked the Earth. Luna, can you hear me? I need your help. Her sister had not responded once in three hundred years. Tonight would be no different.
Luna, the kingdom is in danger. The provinces are ready to tear themselves apart, and the griffons are prepared to gobble up the pieces. I need you, Luna. Come back to me.
The stars gave no reply. She heaved a shuddering sigh, then turned back to the stairs to take her rest until the raising of the sun.