//------------------------------// // Chapter III // Story: Relinquish the Sun // by Error732 //------------------------------// "We have to surrender. We can't risk the threat to Equestria." The words echoed through Canterlot Castle's circular conference room, bouncing off the marble columns and silver-framed mirrors, against tapestries embroidered with depictions of Equestria's history, and into the ears of dozens of ponies seated at the table which dominated the room, Celestia among them. After over an hour of discussion, the moods of those gathered were polarized between anger and boredom, with those in the former camp fighting to be heard and those in the latter struggling to listen. Celestia, charged with moderating the debate, managed to maintain her patience, but a part of her had found the dragons more pleasant company. The speaker himself, Boutonniere, sat at the center of an entourage of other Canterlot gentry, each of them wearing some combination of fine silks, feathered hats, ruffled collars, and disdainful expression. Boutonniere himself, a white unicorn with neatly coiffed maroon mane, wore a three-piece suit, complete with a red necktie and a black jacket whose tails ended just past his cutie mark, a single red rose. "Surrender? You're acting like they've already declared war," snapped Jet Stream, from the center of the Cloudsdale delegation. "We shouldn't be lying down just because the dragons want something we have. If they want something of ours, they'll have to fight for it. And we have to be ready to fight back. In a month's time, we can gather a force of ponies that no dragon would cross." Jet Stream, whose appearance alone might have offended Boutonniere and his ilk, went the extra distance with his harsh tone. With short-shorn black mane, grey wings and coat (interrupted only by a white cyclone on each flank), Jet Stream advertised his contempt for Canterlot's stuffed shirts every time he leaned back into his chair with crossed forelegs, exchanged dismissive glances with his fellow pegasi, or rolled his eyes as Boutonniere began to speak. Boutonniere snorted, "You'll pardon me if I'm not willing to gamble the safety of Canterlot on the wings of your militia, but we simply have too much to lose. We must be willing to negotiate." "'Negotiate?' The dragons are asking for Princess Celestia, leader of all Equestria, to give up her most important duty. That's not even appeasement; that's idiocy! Respectfully, your highness—" Jet Stream nodded briefly at Celestia, still silent. "—if you give them what they want, you'll become their puppet. They're testing us! They want to see how far we'll bend over backward to please them. And that's why we can't do it; it's a display of dominance. When the lion roars at you, you've got to roar back. If you turn tail and run, you'll just be dinner. "Now, I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Equestria needs a standing aerial task force. With your permission—" "Oh, enough with your pet project," Boutonniere shouted over him. "No force can guarantee the capital against a dragon threat. If Canterlot is attacked, we could lose thousands of years of Equestrian history in the blink of an eye. The libraries, artifacts, and culture here cannot be transported, and this is the first place the dragons would strike. That's to say nothing of the ponies that live here, though perhaps Jet Stream is unused to the idea of permanent residence, since he is accustomed to his hometown merely floating away when the need arises." A new fury entered Jet Stream's eyes, and a clamor rose up from his company. "You pompous, overbred coward! How dare you—" "That will be enough," interrupted Celestia, silencing one half of the room and waking the other. "I think we all understand your opinions on the issue at hand; we don't need your opinions of each other." The feuding delegates exchanged curt glances, then bowed their heads in deference to Celestia. Returning to a softer tone, Celestia continued, "I'd like to hear any other thoughts the council has, if there are any." A slim earth pony volunteered, "I have a few, if I may." Rye Smile, the brown coated, grey maned mare, spoke in a subdued but clear monotone. Though her cutie marked matched the first half of her name, her face seldom matched the second, remaining blank through most of her speeches. "Our crops won't grow if we don't have night and day. If we abandon the cycle that the Princess provides us, most of them—our apples, our wheat, our oats—will die. Even if some of them do survive, there won't be enough to feed everypony. Neither Cloudsdale or Canterlot can survive without a food supply. Equestria's farmlands, from Ponyville to Salt Lick City, might survive, but its metropolises certainly won't." A solemn mood quieted the room. Boutonniere scowled, "That's a very colorful bit of fortune telling, but you're forgetting the disaster that would come from a dragon attack! I've commissioned research from the Canterlot libraries, and . . ." He went on at length about the known interactions with dragons, until he was interrupted by one of Jet Stream's crew, at which point the debate decayed into a back and forth on threat assessment. Celestia's eyes strayed from the speakers to a tapestry across the room from her. The broad, rectangular textile depicted Celestia banishing Luna—no, Nightmare Moon—and ushering in the daylight over Equestria. The castle was filled with similar artwork, all celebrating the imprisonment of her sister. As she recalled, this particular piece had been gifted to her some hundred years prior, to honor her commitment to her ponies. Every artist in Equestria seemed to think she wished to celebrate tragedy, that the worst thing she'd ever done to her sister was the best thing she'd ever done for Equestria. The debate crawled onward at the suggestion of stockpiling food. Celestia's thoughts left it behind. She considered the life she'd be accepting if she obeyed the dragons' demands. She'd be giving up on her sister, probably forever. Equestria would not mourn Luna; they already celebrated her exile every Nightmare Night. And why wouldn't they? Nightmare Moon was one of the greatest threats to Equestria of her time, and her return would renew that threat. The Princess of Equestria should agree with her people's sentiments, however much Celestia did not. To the kingdom, the loss of Luna would go unnoticed, anyway. The broken days and nights would almost certainly take priority of their concerns. The hours would lack definition without scheduled dawn and dusk. There would be no easy way to schedule the seasons, no Winter Wrap Up . . . "We'd have to cancel the Summer Sun Festival," she said aloud. The words had left her without asking permission; a moment's inattention had been all they'd needed to get away. The council's bickering halted, and Celestia suddenly realized the volume with which she'd spoken. "Yes, Your Highness," said Boutonniere, faltering. "But . . . surely the food supply in Canterlot does not depend on the festival?" Puzzled glances met her from all directions. Celestia reasserted her hold on herself. "I have much to consider from our discussion today," she said, authoritatively. "We will reconvene at a later time. Thank you all for coming." And, at her words, the meeting was closed. The diplomats filed out, paying their respects as the exited. Celestia remained for a moment to admire her sister's image, then followed her guard out.