//------------------------------// // 6. The Duchess // Story: The Age of Wings and Steel // by DSNesmith //------------------------------// Celerity Belle was past the point of frustration. The council had been deadlocked for over two weeks about this fortress. “Blueblood, if we don’t put more funding behind Sel-Paloth's garrison, we’ll be caught completely flat-hoofed by the griffons.” “I think you mean to say, you will be unable to keep the southern provinces in line.” “This has nothing to do with me, Emmet.” Celerity glared at the blonde unicorn over the council table. “It has everything to do with the griffons who threaten every day to move northward into my land.” “Our land.” Annoyed at her slip-up, Celerity dismissed the correction with a wave. “If we don’t step up our recruitment drives and pour some money into the army, then soon it won’t belong to either of us.” “The military budget already constitutes a grotesque third of the kingdom’s expenditures, Celerity. We can’t even afford to keep the roads cleared of grass anymore. We need to reduce that spending—on Whitetail soldiers, especially.” Celerity fumed. “You won’t be able to spend the money we’d save if you’re pulling wagons in some griffon slave camp, Emmet.” The Duke buried a look of anger under a mask of boredom. “Belle, your transparent efforts to boost yourself above the rest of the provinces are growing tiresome.” “Enough.” Both of them turned to the Princess, who sat on her haunches in the great, golden throne. “This bickering has gone on for too long already.” Celerity gazed at her old teacher with frustration. If only the Princess would listen to her, the way she used to. Ever since Celerity had taken her seat as the Duchess of Whitetail, it seemed like the Princess had turned deaf to her counsel. Celerity couldn’t understand why she allowed Blueblood to spew his nonsense every day. “Duke Blueblood. Councilors. There is news I must share.” The Princess looked as if she were arguing with herself. She shook her head; apparently one side of her thoughts had won. “The griffons are mobilizing for war.” With a triumphant “Ha!” Celerity clapped a hoof to the marble table. “You see, Blueblood?” The Duke was unfazed. “From whom did this information come, Your Majesty?” “Dawn Sparkle. She is—was—my best scout, and one of my most reliable couriers. She reports that the griffons have assembled a vast army in the dunes of the Saladi desert, and that they are moving north.” “How large an army?” asked Celerity, smugly waiting for the figure to throw in Blueblood’s face. “Thirty thousand griffons.” There was a dead silence in the council chamber. Even Celerity put a hoof to her mouth. “Oh, goddess…” “I’m right here, Celerity,” said the Princess with a faint smile. The joke was old and worn, but it still drew a weak chuckle from a couple of the councilors. “We need to move quickly,” said Celerity, her mind churning into overdrive. “Lord Weatherforge, how soon can you have an aerial force mobilized?” The pegasus, leader of the province he was named for, looked up at the ceiling as he ran over a few calculations. “I think I can have seven hundred pegasi for you in a week, maybe more.” “It might be enough.” Celerity already had a plan, but she would need to iron out the details later. “Blueblood, we’ll need your army to reinforce our own strength in the south.” “You would have me turn my own soldiers over to your command, Celerity?” Emmet gave a long, forced laugh. “I don’t think so. Not all of us are so eager to jump into your war.” He looked around at the councilors. “I ask this assembly, who here stands to gain more from a war with Grypha than Celerity? She would steal your armies, use them up against the griffons, and then bleed your coinpurses dry to fund her own as she dominates the south. I will have no part in this madness.” “You can’t just ignore the griffons, Emmet.” Celerity restrained herself from throwing any more vitriol at the lord of Norharren. If she needed to sweet-talk Blueblood for his troops, she could do it without gagging. “We have not even tried diplomacy. War is not the only option, here. Let us send an agent to speak with the Gryphan king. Perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement instead of a wasteful conflict.” Celerity was no longer even surprised by the depth of Blueblood’s denial. “How long has it been since you read the history of the Great War, Emmet? Maybe you recall what happened to the emissaries we sent then?” They’d returned without their tongues, if she remembered correctly. Or perhaps it was their heads. The Duke shrugged uneasily. “It’s been six hundred years. The griffons will surely have learned that violence is not the only solution by now.” Deciding he was a lost cause, Celerity turned to Celestia. “Princess, can we count on your support?” Celestia looked torn. “Celerity, for me to declare war, the whole council must be in agreement.” “You can override that if you wish.” Celerity knew the legal theory better than any in the room, except perhaps the Princess herself. “You have the authority to draft every pony in Canterlot if you want.” Celestia frowned. “That kind of power should not be used lightly. The situation is not yet as desperate as that, Celerity.” The Duchess slumped back, her efforts frustrated once again by royal indecision. The Princess used to seem so decisive. What had changed? Maybe it’s you who’s changed, Celerity. She shook her head. “We need to prepare. The griffons are coming, whether we’re ready for them or not. I intend to be the former.” She looked around the council chamber. “Are we done here? Some of us need to begin sending word back to our provinces to warn them of the oncoming invasion force.” Troubled, the Princess nodded. “Very well. We will convene tomorrow to discuss the matter more fully. I beg you all to think of Equestria’s best interests. The griffons will be merciless. I must urge you to consider that war may be our only option.” Blueblood huffed. The Princess gave him a pleading look. “I will see you all tomorrow at seven ‘o-clock. Good evening, councilors.” * * * “He’s an idiot.” “Mmhmm.” “An absolute idiot.” “As you say, milady.” “He’d rather run the country into the ground than help me defend it.” Celerity stamped a hoof. “Please, milady, I can’t help you if you won’t stand still.” Her coltservant and attaché, Weatherly, fussed around her neck. He was helping her remove the dozens of layers of clothing that constituted her normal council attire. The outfit was a bit cumbersome, but it was well-worth it for the effect it had on the other council members. The two of them stood in her chambers in the Sun Castle. She stayed in these rooms with the rest of her entourage whenever she was called away from Whitewall City in the south for extended council sessions. The room was upholstered in the colors of the Whitetail Duchy, streaks of purple on clean white. The sigil of her house, a quadruplet of exquisite diamonds, was carefully detailed on a tapestry above the fireplace. It was a little home away from home. Unfortunately, her neighbor down the hall was Emmet Blueblood. “All he thinks about is money, money, money. He still thinks that he can buy his way back into the glory days of Norhart.” She scoffed. “As if any amount of gold could purge that kind of corruption and incompetence.” “Now, milady, I know several nobleponies from Norhart. They’re not corrupt in the least.” Weatherly gently removed her tiara, carrying it aside to place it on the dresser. Celerity sighed in frustration. “I know, Weatherly. He’s just so… frustrating. And the Princess is no help at all.” Weatherly looked up uncomfortably. “The Princess wants whatever is best for the kingdom, milady.” “What’s best for Whitetail is best for the kingdom,” insisted Celerity. “We practically are the kingdom. Over a quarter of Equestria lies inside my Duchy, and the blasted griffons are barking at my doorstep. If we don’t pull together a real army fast, they’re going to swarm up through Southlund and past the river before we know what’s hit us.” “Whitetail has the largest army in Equestria, milady,” reassured Weatherly. He unclasped another chain, sliding off a layer of her gown and hooking it over a hangar. “Even without aid from Celestia and the northern provinces, we’ll be able to fend off any griffon attacks.” “Weatherly, Whitetail has about four thousand employed soldiers at the moment. The griffons have around thirty thousand. You do the math.” Her aide paused for a moment. “Did you say thirty thousand?” He sounded faint. “We’ll be overwhelmed instantly unless Celestia and Blueblood quit dithering and give me the troops I need. I have to strengthen my borders.” “Perhaps Cloudsdale would be willing to help?” “Lord Weatherforge has already agreed to give me as many pegasi as he can spare. I think we can also count on the aid of Westermin, as well as Breton and Rivermeet. Not that they’re worth much.” Weatherly removed another layer. Celerity made a hrmm sound, still thinking. “Helmfast is securely in Emmet’s camp. Those two have been scratching each other’s backs for decades. Norlund and Greenway will follow Helmfast’s lead like they always do.” The stallion suppressed a chuckle as he took off his lady’s necklace. “What of the others?” “The only one that matters is Easthill. A good half of my soldiers are still armed only with their hooves. We need Easthill’s steel production if we’re going to equip them well enough to fight the griffons.” Weatherly raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Good luck convincing him to join you without the Princess’s backing.” “Yes, he is a loyal fool, I’ll give him that.” “Loyalty isn’t foolish,” said Weatherly quietly. Celerity sighed. “No, of course not. Forgive me, Weatherly.” “How about Everfree?” “Lord Everfree rules a ghost province. Ever since the Fall…” They both paused as a chill seemed to sweep the room. “Ever since the Princess took over the task of raising the moon, Everfree has been effectively deserted. There are hardly any ponies still living there, and certainly no army. No, he’ll be of no use to us.” Her expression turned grim. “I’m worried, Weatherly. This could tear the council apart. Blueblood might just be crazy enough to go to war against us if we push too hard for this.” Shocked, Weatherly dropped the garment he was hanging up. “He wouldn’t! How could anypony weaken the nation at a time like this? We need to stick together to be strong.” Celerity looked at her aide with an uncertain expression. “Weatherly, I…” Her eyes fell to the floor for a moment, before looking up at him. “I’m not so sure that’s true, anymore.” “What… what do you mean?” “Have you ever wondered what it might be like? Being our own, separate nation?” “No, milady,” said Weatherly, his voice concerned. “The Princess is the rightful ruler of Equestria.” “That she is,” said Celerity. She thought of her days as Celestia’s protégé. “That she is.”