Inger stood watch by the great golden door. From the mountains to the east, the first few rays of the sun snuck over the snowy peaks. It was going to be another beautiful day, he reflected. He stretched his wings, letting the sunlight warm his cherry-red feathers. He intended to enjoy the last few warm days before winter set in. He scowled. Inger hated winter. The snow was wet and unpleasant, and the frigid air made flying difficult. One had to beat their wings twice as hard to get any lift in the cold. And the Firewings lived for flying.
In times of peace, as now, the Firewings served as Her Majesty’s personal guard. It was in this function that Inger found himself standing outside the cozy, warm castle at the crack of dawn, guarding the door against nosy peasants. He didn’t mind, though; it set Her Majesty’s mind at ease to have the Firewings with her, and Inger would gladly walk fifty miles through a meter of snow for the reward of Celestia’s smile. The Princess smiled so rarely these days that every one had become a treasure. He just wished that guard duty wasn’t so… tedious.
But perhaps it would be an eventful morning after all. Below him, on the steep mountain path that wound down from the castle into the city of Canterlot proper, a small gray pony climbed. Inger watched, intrigued. It wasn’t uncommon for some misguided commoner to try entering the castle without going through the right authorities, but it was rare to see a civilian at the castle at this hour of the morning.
The pony below finally reached the last flight of stairs, the sharp and straight steps that led right to the front gate of the castle. He paused, likely to catch his breath. Inger squinted to get a better view of him. He raised an eyebrow. Curious—it looked from here as if the pony had wings. If that was the case, why not simply fly up? Inger couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually walked the steps up to the castle.
Below, the pony began climbing the stairs. He was moving quite fast, taking the steps two at a time. As the pony neared the top, the wind took his mane and blew it aside, revealing a short, stubby horn. Inger’s face hardened, frowning. Pegacorn. Well, that explained why he wasn’t flying, at least.
The pegacorn reached the top of the steps at last and collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily. Inger watched dispassionately. At last, the pegacorn stood, shakily approaching the tall golden door. As he made to enter, Inger flared his wings and blocked his path.
“Halt, citizen.” Inger eyed the creature before him with distaste. “What is your business in the Sun Castle?”
“I have,” the pegacorn took another deep breath, “a message for the Princess. It’s urgent.”
Inger looked him over again. He was short, or perhaps the better word was stunted, and covered in dirt and sweat. The pegacorn cut an unimpressive figure. Wait, it wasn’t all dirt—Inger’s eyebrows raised. The pegacorn’s hooves were coated with blood.
“What’s the message?”
“I can’t tell you. I don’t even know myself. It’s for the Princess’s eyes only. I need to get this to her.” Inger frowned. “It’s urgent,” the pegacorn repeated.
The Firewing rolled his eyes. “Princess Celestia is an extremely busy pony. All letters must be submitted through the proper channels. The post office is open during weekdays from seven to—”
“No!” The outburst drew another frown from Inger. “I have to see her right away. Now. Please.”
“Look, pegacorn,” said Inger, dropping all pretense of civility, “Celestia doesn’t need to be bothered with your problems. Either put your papers in the mail like everypony else or—”
“I don’t need to be bothered with what, Inger?”
The Firewing jerked upright, swiveling around and taking a deep bow. “Milady!” Princess Celestia stood in the open gate, her hair flowing gently in the breeze. The quiet alicorn possessed a serene grace and beauty that stood in stark contrast to the pale imitation before them.
“What is going on here, Inger?” she asked politely.
“Nothing, milady. Just an intruder on the grounds; it’s not a problem.” Inger stood and turned back to the pegacorn, who was standing in awe at the presence of the Princess. “Off with you, peasant.”
Instead of leaving, the pegacorn opened his mouth and stammered. “Pri… Princess Celestia? I have a, uh, a message for you.”
“You’ll not bother Her Majesty, pegacorn.” Inger’s eyes narrowed and he stepped between his Princess and the grubby little stallion.
Behind him, the Princess gave a tinkling laugh. “Oh, Inger, you’re so fussy. Let him by, I don’t mind, really.”
“But milady—”
“Inger,” said Celestia in that gentle tone of rebuke he knew so well. “I always have time for my subjects.” She gave him a knowing smile. She turned to the pegacorn. “Tell me, little one, what is your name?”
“R-Rye Strudel, Your Highness.”
Strudel? The name sounded familiar to Inger, but he couldn’t put his hoof on it. Hadn’t he and Captain Firemane run into a Strudel at some point? He shrugged.
The Princess looked briefly surprised. “Strudel? How… interesting. Did your mother send you?”
“No.” The pegacorn pointed to the scroll at his feet. Inger saw with surprise that it had a black seal. “It’s from… from Dawn Sparkle.” The pegacorn’s face fell, and he scraped a bloodstained hoof across the ground.
“Dawn? She’s my most faithful messenger. Why would she send—” Celestia’s eyes widened as she saw the blood. “Rye… what has happened?”
“There were… in the Cottontail woods…” the pegacorn struggled.
The Princess forestalled him with a hoof. “I will hear your explanation, but this is not the place. Come with me, Rye. Inger, you as well. We’ll go to my private chambers where we may discuss this without being overheard.”
“But milady—”
“No arguments, Inger. Now.”
He sighed, frustrated. “Very well, milady.”
Inger and the pegacorn followed the Princess into the castle. As they entered the door, Inger signaled to the interior guard to take his place at the gate. Celestia led the way, walking through the castle. Inger stood close behind her, with the pegacorn trailing them both. They walked by the castle kitchens, and Inger’s empty stomach grumbled sympathetically, but the Princess whisked past without a glance. As they reached the bottom of the tower stairs, he heard the pegacorn groan.
“Not more steps…”
The Princess smiled. “My bedchamber is only halfway up the tower.” The three of them climbed, their way lit by the torches in the wall sconces. At last they reached the Princess’s quarters.
Entering the room, Inger saw the familiar sights. The fireplace flickered on the wall, illuminating the tapestry of the stars. The Princess’s writing couch and rug lay in the center of the room, from where she sent messages all across the kingdom. Her bed, a big four-poster piece of furniture, sat in the corner by the window. The sheets were thrown about in disarray, as if somepony had spent another restless night tossing and turning. Inger felt a pang of sympathy for the Princess.
The door shut behind them, glowing with the white aura of the Princess’s magic. She turned to them, all business. “Rye, give me the message.” The pegacorn obediently set the scroll at her feet and stood back. Her horn shone, and the scroll flew up to her face. The seal ripped open and the message unfurled. The Princess’s eyes scanned down the letter, absorbing its contents.
Inger waited patiently for her to finish. Beside him, the pegacorn fidgeted, glancing around at the room. Inger rolled his eyes. Civilians.
The Princess gave a sudden, tiny gasp. She put a hoof to her mouth, her eyes wide, as she continued reading. Inger was growing very concerned. At last, she finished, and rolled the scroll back up. Without warning, she twisted her head and sent the scroll flying into the fireplace. It crackled as the scroll burned.
The Princess turned to the pegacorn, deadly serious. “How did this letter come into your possession?”
Swallowing, the pegacorn began to describe the events of the night before in a shaky voice. He told the Princess that he had awoken in the forest—Inger was curious why he’d been there in the first place, but the Princess didn’t push for clarification—and his encounter with Dawn Sparkle. Inger was a bit surprised. He’d met the unicorn before. She didn’t seem the type to go running through the forest at night.
Then the pegacorn told them about the hooded attackers. He described the fight, brushing over the details. He had the familiar look of somepony hovering on the edge of shock. Inger had seen it all too often.
“I didn’t have time to get help for her. She wanted me to get this to you right away.”
“Griffons? In Cottontail?” Inger was incredulous. Celestia silenced him with a sharp look, then motioned for the pegacorn to continue. The creature mumbled a brief description of his run up through the city and their meeting.
“Dawn, she… I think she wanted me to tell you she was sorry.” The pegacorn hung his head. “I didn’t have time to bury her. I honored the body the best I could.” He stared at the floor. Inger shifted uncomfortably.
“Thank you, Rye,” said Celestia, closing her eyes in pain. She gave an infinitely weary sigh. “Dawn was a brave pony and one of the best friends I have ever had. I will… I will see to it that her family is notified. Her husband and children should know that she died serving her country.” She took a moment to find her voice again. “But there are more pressing matters.”
Inger and the pegacorn both looked up sharply. The Princess had that look she got whenever she was thinking fast. She paced, turning around on her rug. “Dawn’s letter is the report I requested on the Gryphan army’s strength and movement. It’s worse than I’d feared.” She took a breath and continued. “The griffons are mobilizing. Dawn reports that forces from all over Grypha have gathered at a massive war camp on the Equestrian border. She speaks of thousands of warriors, tens of thousands.”
With a sinking feeling, Inger said “The Celestial Army is only a few thousand strong. Even the Duchess of Whitetail has only three or four thousand ponies at her command. How are we supposed to fight a force of ten thousand griffons?”
“It’s closer to thirty thousand. They have enough warriors to easily march over the southern plains unopposed. Enough to break any army we can muster in a single battle.”
Inger broke in. “How can they feed that many troops? Grypha is a desert. They already have to import most of their food from the Wild Lands to the east.”
“You’re forgetting about the griffon campaigns in the south fifty years ago. Those little nations set up after the Great War were supposed to be a barrier between us and the griffons…” She sighed. “Instead, they proved little more than easy targets for Gryphan expansion. They aren’t ideal farmland, but they’ve given the king of Grypha enough breathing room to organize this massive army. Hundreds of square miles of land have fallen under his control. And now he wants Equestria.” Celestia’s eyes hardened. “He must not be allowed to have it.”
Inger paused, thinking. He glanced over at the pegacorn, who was doing his best to look very small. Why was he still here? The Princess should have dismissed him before discussing the situation with Inger. She often talked politics with her guards, but he could think of no reason for the commoner to remain. “Well,” he said, cautiously. “Surely the Celestial Army will not stand alone in this? What of the other provinces?”
“I have no doubt that Celerity would eagerly leap into battle with us against the griffons, Inger. But Emmet…” The Princess shook her head. “Duke Blueblood is firmly set against war. He wants us to slash military spending everywhere, and devote more of our resources to trade.” She looked weary. “In another day and age I would happily agree, but with the griffons at our borders I’ve been loath to weaken us any more than we already are.”
The pegacorn spoke suddenly. “Just ignore him, then.” Inger spared him a scowl, but the Princess simply shook her head.
“The situation is delicate. Emmet has a force larger than the Celestial Army at his command.” Celestia gave a black laugh. “Equestria’s national army is perhaps its smallest.”
“Can we fight the griffons without Norhart?” asked Inger.
“You misunderstand. The hatred between Emmet and Celerity runs deeper than you can guess. Emmet thinks Celerity is on a power trip, trying to grab as much authority as she can from the council and the crown. She thinks he is a stuck-up, backwards old fool, desperate to relive the glory days of Norhart. Neither of them are quite right about the other, but... there are kernels of truth there.” She paused, shaking her head again, and continued. “If we do march on the griffons, if we do declare war, and Celerity follows us…”
“Then?”
“Well… Emmet may do something rash.”
The pegacorn spoke again. “Your Highness… you’re the Princess! Can’t you just order him to step in line?”
She laughed again, mirthlessly. “One of the great ironies of power, Rye, is that the more of it I have the less of it I dare use. Emmet already complains that I do not give the provinces enough leeway in their own governance. Ordering him to march to war would play right into his hooves. He and the other northern provinces could lock the council in argument until the griffons kill us all. And if Celerity heads into battle anyway, then my worst fear could come to pass.”
Inger swallowed. “Even Blueblood isn’t that crazy.”
“You underestimate his hatred for Celerity.” She braced herself. “If we go to war, then Blueblood will secede.” There was a short, tense silence.
The Princess continued, “The Duchy of Norhart is the second largest in Equestria, and many of the other provinces will follow him: Helmfast, Greenway… it would be an absolute catastrophe. Celerity would retaliate, and Equestria would be ripped apart by a civil war between Norhart and Whitetail, all while the griffons swoop in to wipe out the survivors. Hundreds of thousands of innocent ponies would be killed in the fighting. It would be the worst disaster since the Fall. No, we cannot risk open war. Not yet. Not while Emmet remains opposed.”
“But… Princess…” the pegacorn stuttered. “You’re the sun goddess. Can’t you… I don’t know, smite the griffons with your magic or something?”
Celestia’s face darkened, and she turned aside. “The power of the gods is not unlimited, Rye. The last time that Luna and I went openly to battle was eons ago. At the making of the world, the gods and the dragons warred against each other for dominion over the Earth. The land was torn asunder as fire rained from the skies, and dragons and gods alike were destroyed in the chaos.
“We were victorious in the end, but we paid a heavy price. The natural cycles of the world had been broken; the weather could not sustain itself, and the sun and moon no longer rose of their own accord. My sister and I suggested that the task of managing the weather be given to the young race of the pegasi. To the unicorns, we gave the responsibility of raising the moon and sun. And finally, we tasked the earth ponies with healing the Earth’s shattered lands.
“We left this world and the mortals to their own devices. We no longer trusted ourselves with its care, and decided to let the younger races determine their own fates. We departed from the Earth, not intending to return. But the peace was not to last.” Her eyes darkened. “Thousands of years passed, and the ponies fought amongst themselves. The unicorns proved unworthy of the trust we had placed in them, using their magic to control the other races. The strife between the tribes caused the never-ending winter and led to the creation of Equestria, but the discord and chaos sowed the seeds for something worse.
“An evil god, born from the disharmony of the pony tribes, rose up from the ashes of the north. He was the greatest enemy the world had ever faced. The ponies were powerless against him, and Equestria suffered under his cruelty for a century. My sister and I returned from our exile to put an end to his reign of madness, but our power was no match for him.” The Princess seemed lost in time. Inger and the pegacorn both stared, entranced.
“We searched the world for many years, seeking the means to defeat him. At last we found it; hidden not in some cave or mountain, but in the hearts and minds of all life itself. We harnessed that power and created the Elements of Harmony. In a great and terrible battle we defeated the enemy, and sealed him in a prison from which he will never escape.
“The ponies, though most of them were good at heart, had shown us that they were not ready to be the caretakers of the sun and moon. My sister and I assumed our duties as the goddesses of the day and night, ruling Equestria ever since to prevent another endless winter.”
“If the Elements are so powerful,” said Inger, who had only heard this story once before, “Why don’t we use them to fight the griffons?”
“They are the Elements of Harmony, Inger. And right now, there is so much disharmony in Equestria, I’m not sure if they will even work. But even if I knew for certain that I could harness their power, I would not.” The Princess grew distant. “They have only been used twice, and they carried a price. A steep one.” She looked out her window at the blue sky. Inger knew she was thinking of the moon.
“Using them again might have terrible consequences. That kind of power should not be used lightly. We must turn instead to conventional means to defend ourselves from the threat of Grypha. I must work through mortals.” At that, she gave the pegacorn a strange glance.
“Milady,” said Inger, “We don’t have enough troops to defend against an invasion of this size. We need allies.”
“Yes, Inger, I concur. But who?” She turned. “Many nations signed the Treaty of Everfree, but how many will hold to it? The dragons still slumber in Wyrmgand, and their aid would be doubtful in any event. They hold no love for me or my people. The zebra tribes are too far away to send help in time, and the buffalo would most likely aid the griffons instead of us.”
“What about Sleipnord?”
Inger and Celestia both looked at the pegacorn. He shied back nervously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. My friend Cranberry was telling me about how Sleipnord was a land filled with warriors—it just leapt to mind.”
The Princess put a hoof to her chin. “Hmm… the Nordponies have long been allies of Equestria.”
“Surely you can’t be serious,” said Inger. “Our nations may have been close once, but it’s been a long time since the fall of the Empire. The Nordponies are extreme isolationists. I’d be wary of letting any Nordpony warrior set hoof on Equestrian soil. Besides, those savages are too busy killing each other to gather an army.”
Celestia frowned. “You give them too little credit, Inger. The Nordponies are valorous and unmatched in battle.” She nodded slowly. “Yes… the more I think about it, the more this seems the correct course of action. A messenger must be sent to the thanes, to secure their aid against the griffons.”
Inger restrained his frustration, and sighed in defeat. “Very well, milady. I will summon a courier.”
“No!” said the Princess. “We cannot send an official messenger. The royal couriers are being watched, if Dawn Sparkle’s fate is any indication. And the greater danger of civil war is equally present. Celerity and Emmet have eyes in the courier service, and no hint of this alliance must reach their ears before we have unified against the Gryphan threat. Celerity feels much the same regarding the northerners as you do, Inger.” She looked calmly at the pegacorn. “No, we need to send an outsider. Somepony with no ties to the crown, somepony that nopony will be closely watching. Somepony like you, Rye.”
Inger choked. So that was why she hadn’t told the pegacorn to leave. “You can’t send him!” he exploded, as at the same time the pegacorn stammered protests.
The pegacorn’s eyes bugged out, and he shook his head frantically. “Me? Princess, I’m not a—I mean, I’ve never—”
Celestia held up a hoof, quieting them both. “Trust me, please, both of you. This is the best course of action available to us right now.” She looked at the pegacorn. “Rye, will you do this for us?”
“I don’t…. I’m not sure I’m really the pony for the job…” The pegacorn’s eyes swiveled back and forth. “Shouldn’t you send a carrier pegasus?”
“Flight would attract too much attention. My agent must travel on hoof. I need an inconspicuous messenger.”
The pegacorn laughed nervously. “I’m not exactly inconspicuous.” He gave an anxious flutter of his too-small wings.
“I have faith that you can get the job done, Rye.”
“I can’t. I’m no hero, Your Highness.”
“You’d be surprised how often heroes say that.” She smiled gently.
The pegacorn shook his head in denial. “I’m not the pony you’re looking for.”
“Are you certain, Rye? Do you truly think yourself unworthy of the task I lay before you?” Her eyes pierced into the pegacorn. “Or is this the ponies of Canterlot I hear talking?”
That clearly struck a chord somewhere deep inside the young stallion. “I…”
“You can do this, Rye. Prove it to them. Prove it to yourself.”
“I… yes. I will. I accept this charge.”
Inger spluttered. “Milady, I must protest. You can’t give a mere foal a mission this important!”
“I’m not a child,” said the pegacorn, irritated.
The Firewing ignored him, still fuming. “This is ridiculous. We can’t place all of Equestria’s hopes on an untrained civilian and send him off to Sleipnord alone.”
“And I am not,” said Celestia evenly, raising her eyebrow at Inger. “You’re going with him.”
Inger gaped. “You—I’m—” he gibbered, dumbstruck.
The Princess nodded, a wry smile on her lips. “Yes. I will make the preparations. The two of you will leave tomorrow night, under cover of darkness.”
“Princess,” said the pegacorn. “Pardon me, but… how are we going to convince the thanes to help?”
Celestia’s horn glowed brightly, and there was a sharp crack! A set of scrolls appeared in the air. “These are copies of the ancient treaty signed by all the nations at the end of the Great War. When the Empire fell, the Nordponies were among those who agreed to join us against them should the griffons ever rise again. These documents will bind them to the word of their ancestors.”
She looked kindly at the pegacorn. “I’m sorry, Rye, you must be exhausted. You haven’t slept since the attack in the woods, have you? Inger, please show him to the guest rooms. I need to plan. I will see you both after the council session tomorrow.”
“Yes, milady.” Still simmering, Inger bowed deeply. He nudged the pegacorn, who followed suit. The two exited the chamber, the door sliding magically shut behind them.
As they walked down the steps to the castle below, the pegacorn paused. He looked at Inger curiously. “She kept calling me Rye. Does she use first names with everypony?”
Inger continued down the stairs. “Yes,” he said, his tone lightening as he thought of his Princess. “Her Majesty cares about every pony under her rule as if they were her own foals.” He looked at the pegacorn. “Do you understand why we follow her?”
The pegacorn looked lost in thought as they descended. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I do.”