//------------------------------// // XVI. Vain Empires // Story: The Night is Passing // by Cynewulf //------------------------------// XVI. Vain Empires RARITY For the first time in a very long time, she felt safe. For the first time in a very long time, Rarity felt as if the world was bright. Partially because it was, with the sun’s blessing. The day before had been a short one, with only three hours of real light and a lot of gray and black on either side. But this day had been long and made mild by the northern climes, and so their arrival in Imperial Center was a beautiful one. How could she forget such a place? It lived in her dreams, though they had been more occupied of late. She had felt its magic in her blood and loved its people with her actions once before, and still now, she felt as if it remained familiar. It had grown, yes. But growth could not change the heart of such a city from what it was, not one as old as this. The returning cohorts were welcomed without fanfare, but with many faces all the same. Some were eager. Most were nervous or cautious. Several came to the Prince himself, bowing enthusiastically and asking for news of the world beyond the walls. The walls. Those were new. When she had first seen them, they had been too alien to contemplate at first. The Crystal Empire did not have walls around its capital. It never had. In three thousand years, Imperial Center had been naked of walls, secure in its legions and in its northerly position, safe from the warlike tribes of the plains of what would be Equestria and the far-off griffons. And yet circling the citadel and the shining crystalline city were walls at least fifteen meters tall, maybe even twenty. Not even close to the seemingly impenetrable bulwark of Canterlot, but still impressive for the work of a year. It had to be a recent development, of course. Nopony could have built a wall here without it being at least mentioned in Canterlot. She was sure of it. Beyond the wall, black as midnight, the city was verdant. The trees and lawns of a thousand lots greeted her happily. Three dozen parks, thousands of tall, densely populated towers, a hundred or so pathways and as many fountains—all of them were bright with life. The crowd around the homecoming cohorts dispersed after a few streets. Those who had begged for news were gently turned away and asked by officers to check the “boards”—whatever those might be—for the news they sought. Glum crystal ponies turned and, one by one, vanished into alleyways and neighborhoods. Beyond the gates, the streets were never in as much disarray as the lower levels of Canterlot were. She saw a few slow, sighing sorts who wore their refugee status on their sleeves, painted around their eyes and rouged on their cheeks, but most of these crystal ponies smiled. They went about their business with vitality as if the world had never changed. She wished to see if it were true, but the soldiers and Shining did not go into more residential or commercial areas. They stuck to the main highway from the gate to the spiring Crystal Palace. All the while, the three ponies from Canterlot kept to themselves in a little huddle, inches apart from one another. They had not sensed any of the jealousy of the Legionnaire since their initial meeting, but even among good and honest ponies, she found herself feeling out of place. Would this be what it was always going to be like? Once, she had felt at home in many places, safe and secure in a vast array of different locales. But the world had changed, hadn’t it? Even here, in the Empire which had remained locked in time for a thousand years, things were changing. At last, they arrived at the palace, where the cohorts were made to stand in formation to be accounted for and reviewed by Shining Armor. The Canterlot ponies stood to the side, watching as Shining Armor walked along the front lines of the two battle-hardened cohorts. The line was at least a hundred or so meters long, but he took his time, looking each pony of the front line in the eye, speaking to a few of them. Rarity noticed their eyes—Fluttershy was not the only pony, after all, who could pay attention to the way in which a pony held herself. Rarity too could see such things. She too paid attention. Their eyes never left the Sword Prince. They all followed his every movement without hesitation and without calculation. This was not the stance of those who chose and weighed but of those who simply waited and moved as if they were willing puppets. It made her feel strange. Perhaps that was a bit too harsh. When he had finished, Shining Armor sent them back to their barracks in the care of their officers. The legionnaires, still in perfect formation, moved on. Despite wounds and weariness, they moved without difficulty or, at least, without the appearance of difficulty. She wondered at their strength. At the last, Shining Armor came back, and before her, she saw not her friend’s goofy, amiable big brother but a quite different stallion. He was, for all the world, like a statue of the type she would expect to see in the old palace gardens in Canterlot or perhaps in a museum. He was made of granite, no, of marble—fine, white marble chiseled with care and with purpose. She was absurdly reminded of a display she’d seen once in a museum of art in Manehattan, where a picture had been emblazoned upon a curtain and then the curtain had been drawn back to reveal something entirely different. But the hard exterior sloughed off. He grinned, and the gesture ruined the serious persona. “Well, now that that’s done, we can get you three into better rooms than you’re used to,” he began. “Sorry for all of the parade and marching.” “It’s quite alright,” Rarity said quickly. “The people must see their leader being, well, a leader. And I must say that you do a fabulous job of looking and acting the part.” Almost like an embarrassed colt, Shining scratched at his mane and grinned. “Thank you. I try.” He led them up the stairs and through one of the main doors into the towering Crystal Palace. On the inside, things had not changed as they had out in the city. That seemed to be part of what made palaces the way they were, she thought. They did not seem to change much at all when everything outside of them was changing. Canterlot Palace, the Crystal Palace, they did not change or falter as the world changed and faltered. They seemed to be constant and untouched. A few servants shuffled through, as was also the norm for places like palaces, and all the while, Shining Armor was talking. “I know you three must be wanting some real news and information about what’s been going on up here. I’ve been talking your ears off about Equestria since we found you in the snow.” “Oh, but we were very happy to tell you,” Fluttershy answered. “Um, I mean, we weren’t happy about some of the things, but…” “We understand, dear,” Rarity said softly before straightening her posture. “Now, I will admit that you’re right. I’m simply dying to know what all has gone on here in the north.” “And I’m looking forward to telling you. I know that sounds really weird, right? But the way I see it, sometimes you can figure stuff out just by explaining it to somepony else.” “It quite makes sense,” Rarity responded. “Can we get some food or something first?” Rainbow grumbled. “If we’re gonna have some sort of storytime pow-wow, I’m gonna need snacks or I’ll be napping.” “You sound almost like Pinkie,” Rarity commented with a smile, glancing sidelong at Rainbow. And Rainbow stuck her tongue out. “Meh. It’s not that surprising. I mean, we’ve been friends forever, Miss Priss.” Rarity only smiled and hummed. “First, I’ll get you guys situated with rooms,” Shining Armor cut in and then called for a passing crystal pony, who was quick to respond and proceed over. The pony bowed, and Shining introduced him. “This is the good stallion who is really in charge around here.” “You’re too kind, Your Majesty,” the old stallion intoned. “Nonsense, you keep everypony’s head on straight, Cicero. Now, could I ask for a favor? I need…” He looked back at Rarity with an eyebrow raised for a moment then shrugged. “Three rooms, I guess,” he continued. “Make sure they’re the nicest guest rooms you can find. Also, tell the chef we have guests tonight, would you?” “I can do this, yes,” Cicero said, bowing. “Will that be all?” “You got it.” “Excellent. I shall go at once. Your Majesty. Ladies.” He trotted off. “Great guy. Old as the hills,” Shining said as they continued towards a tall stairwell. “But I never realized how much goes into keeping places like this working, you know? When I was still just the captain of the guards in Canterlot, a lot of this stuff was just far away, and I didn’t pay attention. I mean, yeah, I knew there was a mare in charge of all of the servants and there was a head chef, but I didn’t like know any of them. If I was inside the palace, I was on my way somewhere, passing through… or I was seeing Cadance.” He shrugged. “But there’s so much going on, it seems like.” “Well, I’d imagine so,” Rarity answered. “A lot goes into making anything look splendid, I assure you, and this place is certainly splendid.” “You should tell Cadance that,” Shining said as if distracted. “I was hoping to see her, actually,” Rarity said quickly. “Yeah. I kinda thought she’d be out on the balcony waiting for you, being all lovey,” Rainbow said, grinning. “She’s a bit more busy these days. A bit too busy for waiting on the balcony. I… well, anyhow. She’s just really busy. But we’ll see her after dinner. Well, I mean, you three will. I might see her before that. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Anyway… come on. You guys can chill in one of the sitting rooms. I’ll have something brought up for, us and I’ll get to telling stories.” “So, essentially, most of the Empire is intact?” Rarity asked, sipping on hot black tea before Shining could even begin to explain. The servant, a young crystal mare, seemed shy. Rarity was careful to be very gracious, which did seem to boost her confidence. It was the little things, she thought to herself, that made a Lady’s behavior. The little things mattered. “Almost all of it. Right after Celestia went on her sabbatical, we started having trouble with rogue changeling hives. Specifically, the hives in the mountains started going farther afield for prey, as far as Amarylis.” He paused. “This is where I realize you don’t know much about our geography. Hold on…” Shining Armor stood and moved about the ornate chamber. There were couches around a central table, perfect for reclining on one’s side in the traditional crystal pony manner, and a rather large painting of some strange mythological scene on the other wall beside a small chest. Ponies carrying other ponies away from weepers. It all seemed rather unpleasant, but Rarity had to admit that the art was itself incredibly well-made. Silently, she sipped her tea and made a mental note to ask somepony about the odd painting. Shining Armor rooted about in the chest for a moment and then returned, carrying a scroll in his magic. He laid it out on the table, and Rarity floated her tea and saucer out of the way in order to see. The Crystal Empire was mountainous, much more so than her own homeland. It was pinned in on three sides by the dagger-like peaks and by the ice-cold seas that led to the end of the world. Mountain passes gave way to the long valley, verdant and wooded, in the center. To Rarity, who had an eye for the patterns hidden in chaos, it looked an awful lot like a smiling mouth. They had walked through this valley. It was all snow at the moment. “Here we are, in Imperial Center… right at the center.” Shining Armor chuckled at his own joke. “See Amarylis, to the East? There was a raid on a village not far outside of there that was pretty serious, and from that day, things snowballed. Villages all along the mountains were raided. They suck the ponies dry, leave them weak and unable to resist, and then they cart a few of them off.” “Abduction?” Rarity asked, sipping tea, albeit in a horrified fashion. “Yeah.” “But that’s so terrible,” Fluttershy said, hunched over the map. “Please tell me you found them…” “Oh, we did.” “I’m likin’ the sound of that. What’d you do, go kick some changeling tail?” Rainbow asked, flapping her wings. Shining grunted. “I wouldn’t put it that way. They kind of did a lot of the work for us.” Rarity paused and lowered her cup. “Some sort of internecine conflict?” “The changelings don’t have just one hive,” Shining explained. “There are at least a dozen major ones, twenty or so minor ones, maybe several we don’t know about. Chrysalis managed to conquer or control or simply had soldiers on loan from about six major hives if I remember correctly. She was Queen of Hive…” He paused and then scrunched up his face. “Ch-Chr’yrs? It’s impossible to say it right. It’s kind of just noise.” “Dreadful noise,” Rarity added. “Yeah, well, what’s really dreadful is what happened to the hives after she got her tail thrown out of Canterlot. It shook a lot of things up with the hives, and then add that to the fact that the Empire pops up out of nowhere, and there was a lot of fighting. Her hive went from being the most traditionally dominant hive to almost being wiped out, to being back on top. Constant civil war. And then… well, then we started finding them just hiding. They weren’t raiding anymore. They just wanted to hide.” “Hide?” Rainbow asked. “From what? I mean, there are zillions of them. They could swarm anything if it was that bad.” “But they’d killed each other off. We really debated it for a while, but in the end, we gave any who surrendered and subjected themselves to magical screening asylum here, in this little town called Haven.” “Whoa, whoa, hold up!” Rainbow Dash flared her wings out, and Rarity took another sip at her tea. Her own thoughts about asylum she kept silent. “I know what you’re about to say…” Shining began, but Rainbow would not be stopped. “You should! That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard! They’re… they’re—” “Changelings, yes,” Shining finished. “And you just let them waltz in because they cried a few crocodile tears? That’s stupid!” Rainbow Dash hovered slightly above the ground, perhaps without even noticing it. Her face was twisted into a furious, nasty snarl; her teeth were bared. Rarity shivered. She had forgotten that pegasi had slight canines. She did not hate them; she feared them. Not a lot. Only slightly. They reminded her of other things. Shining Armor sighed. “Rainbow…” All three of their heads turned to regard Fluttershy, who sat on her own couch. “Don’t you think you’re being a little… I mean, I’m sorry. You just sound so angry.” “Hell yeah, I’m angry,” Rainbow Dash said like she was driving nails into iron blocks with words. “Well…” Fluttershy squirmed. Rarity thought perhaps she was contemplating a muttering, downcast retreat, and so intervened. “Rainbow, dear, could you be so kind as to come back down to earth and return to your couch? I believe it might be best.” Rainbow threw her gaze like baleful fire, like flaming arrows, but they fell flat against the shield of Rarity’s controlled and measured expression. Rainbow Dash wilted, her ears drooping as she looked down to see that her hooves had indeed left the polished tile. She dropped and then awkwardly mounted her couch again in a huff. “Fine.” “Now, as you were saying, Fluttershy?” Rarity said, lowering her voice and softening it. “I just… Rainbow, when you talk like that, you don’t seem like Rainbow anymore.” “Not like me? Like who then?” Rainbow asked, ears flat against her skull. “You sound like the ponies in the Houses Major. Like Lord Blueblood, when he wanted to tell the Las Pegasus refugees to go away.” “I’m nothing like that creep.” “He called them rebels and said that letting them in the city would be stupid and we would all die,” Fluttershy said quickly. “You just don’t sound like Rainbow anymore.” “I… Look, it’s different. They’re not even ponies.” “S-Spike wasn’t a pony,” Fluttershy shot back. Rainbow growled. “Look, it’s still different! Changelings… they’re liars. Their whole thing is lying about what they are.” Fluttershy looked away. “Rainbow Dash,” Rarity said. It was just a name, and though she still had not revealed her own thoughts, she put enough venom in those three syllables that Rainbow recoiled as if slapped. She continued, “I think that you need to stop acting like a child for a moment. I’d like to hear the rest of the story, for one. For another, regardless of how wise trusting changelings is, Fluttershy is right. You’re being horrid.” “I just want… I don’t know. It just seems stupid. Rarity, come on. They’re changelings.” Shining Armor spoke up. “And you’re a pegasus.” “It’s not the same.” “And I’m a unicorn. Outside there are crystal ponies, who are descendants of earth pony colonists.” “The changelings hurt and kidnap and, like, frickin’ feed on us.” “They also are all different, which you would know if you lived here,” Shining said mildly. “Beyond that, if we’re going to talk pasts, pegasi have a long and storied one of leaving a lot of death in their wakes. A few shattered empires ruled from cloud fortresses harassing the ponies below.” Rainbow looked away. “Please continue,” Rarity said. “We let them settle in Haven. That was when we first encountered the creatures you met. The Mitou.” “The wha’?” Rainbow asked, pouting on her couch but interested despite herself. “That’s what they’re called. The Mitou. It’s an old regional word for them that we dug out of the records. The earliest mention of them in the Imperial annals is as a passing mention, reports of sightings, but they were assumed to be a mythical creature from the past’s stories, stories fit only for foals and fools.” “But they obviously aren’t.” “Yeah. They killed or ate or stars knows what to the changelings and chased a lot of them down into the valley. And then they started to do the raiding themselves. They sacked the town of Haven, and we started pulling the survivors from there and the ponies from the villages to the east out. Most of them are either here or in Amarylis City, just waiting for the snow to stop falling. It… it’s been a pretty hard winter, even for this far north. But we got lucky. You remember the whole ordeal with the Houses Major and the Crystal Empire becoming independent again. Twilight was right there helping us through the proceedings, and I kind of remember you three being in Canterlot… but whatever. Right after that and during it, I reformed the Imperial Army, starting with a few legions of volunteers, some of them from Equestria. So by the time that the Mitou started to attack…” “You had soldiery with which to fight them off.” “Exactly,” Shining Armor said with a nod. “And we have been as best as we can… which, I guess, you’ve seen. It’s not exactly easy.” “It was horrible,” Fluttershy murmured. “Those legionnaires got creamed,” Rainbow Dash said glumly. Shining winced. “It’s not like we aren’t trying. They’re bigger, faster, stronger. They don’t have magic, but they do have some primitive technology—stars knows where they got it!—and it takes so many hits to kill them that we lose five ponies sometimes just to kill one, and that’s if we aren’t being ambushed. And with all the snow, and how white their fur is, how good they are at run and gun… it’s beyond just hard. It’s practically impossible. The roads are all theirs now,” he said, gesturing wildly. His voice was strained. “The cities are all in decent condition, and if we commit troops, we can get caravans from one end of the Empire to another, but we lose so many more legionnaires than we can afford.” “But you have so many ponies,” Rarity said. “There were only a few of them. Perhaps they are not as great in number…” “Or maybe there are tons of them. We have no idea, and that’s part of the problem,” Shining groaned. He shook his head and then straightened up. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long… long everything. We may have to institute a draft.” Fluttershy shivered. “A what?” Rainbow asked. “A draft. You know, force citizens into service in times of emergency,” Rarity said. Rainbow blinked, and then seemed to understand. “Oooh. Ecoplisia, got it. We have that in Cloudsdale. We don’t have quite the same reaction.” “You wouldn’t,” Rarity said, a bit more sourly than she had intended to. “And so now we are here, surrounded.” “Basically,” Shining Armor said. We have a few things going for us. I can show you one of them tonight, with Cadance’s permission. It’s… a secret.” “Forgive me, Shining Armor. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Rarity said, wincing. “I had hoped we would find ourselves in a different situation from the one we left, that is all.” “Seems like the whole world is in this situation,” Rainbow groused. None of them could say any different. Soarin’ Soarin’ figured that the pony who sat quietly across from him in the booth could probably do anything he wanted. His face, the air about him—remembering what he looked like was like trying to keep a sandcastle in one piece. He was plain and unassuming. Beyond that, even. In short, Soarin’ had decided he was a perfect spy. “This is… kind of a weird place,” Soarin’ began, when the other simply stared at him. On his right, Big Macintosh shifted and looked intently at the surrounding crowd. The tavern was lively, typical of the lower tier clientele and location. Not quite Saddle Street, thank the stars, but only slightly more wholesome. Beer and cider flowed like waterfalls, and occasionally, so did blood. None at the moment, though, for which he was grateful. Soarin’ didn’t think it was so bad, really. Nothing too rough for a Cloudsdale pegasus. Soarin’ had been getting into fights and finishing them since he’d been small. The grinning, goofy, pie-eating pegasus most ponies saw wasn’t a facade, but it wasn’t a full picture either. It was the better part of the picture. “Not at all,” Page Turner, Princess Luna’s personal aide, replied. He said this without much expression. “I mean…” “It’s crowded,” Page Turner finished as if this was an old piece of reasoning. “Yes, I know. It’s also the epitome of a public space, could easily contain a mole, and on top of that it is dangerous. Mildly.” He paused as if remembering something. “Also, their selection is awful compared to the other establishments on this thoroughfare and slightly pricier, by a bit at most.” “Oh,” Soarin’ said, blinking. “You think a lot through,” Big Mac noted, his voice almost imitating that flat tone. “I do try. It’s vital to be thorough about such things, I think. Thinking is… what I do.” “I noticed. Now, since you’re all aware of those things,” Big Mac continued, looking back to spear the scribe with his gaze, “I’m assumin’ it don’t bother you ‘cause of some very particular reason.” “Why should it? Think. I am almost unknown. I am aware of how little ponies of high birth notice those like me. I encourage it, even. I am as boring as possible.” At last, he flashed a small grin, and Soarin’ finally felt like he was in the presence of an actual pony. “It is quite useful to be a bore when one chooses. With less distraction, I have more time to think.” “What about us? Well. Soarin’ here, this flyboy is noteworthy.” “Aw, thanks, big guy,” Soarin’ ribbed. “I didn’t say that were a good thing, featherbrain,” Big Mac replied offhandedly, like swatting a fly. When Soarin’ wilted, he chuckled. “Yes, Mr. Swiftwind here is quite famous. The Wonderbolts stock has gone down of late, I will add, but the point is still valid.” “Thanks for the reminder,” Soarin’ replied, ears drooping as he grimaced. “Sorry. I really meant no offense. But, as to your question, I assume the next logical step you would take would be as to why such a personage would be in such a dive as this? Why, because you are here. It is mildly well known that Soarin’ Swiftwind and the Element of Honesty are involved in a love affair. The stories in the noble circles call it ‘tempestuous’ I believe. No. That was someone else…” “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Soarin’s said. It wasn’t just his ears drooping. He felt like his whole body might just slump over and die at this rate. “Hey, guys! Make room.” Rainbow Rays nudged Big Macintosh and then found, to his dismay, that there was only room by the slight scribe. The young pegasus opted for a chair instead. He placed the three tankards down with a grin. “This place sucks ass,” he said, cheerfully as could be. Soarin’ grumbled something incoherent. “But the bartender is fine. Like, I’m tellin’ you, the legs on that guy. Celestia burn me, I’d love to—” “I get it, kid,” Soarin’ said quickly. “Oh gods, can we just get on with this? We’re somewhere between pathetic and laughable as far as being secretive.” “You learn on the job,” Rays said and shrugged. Happily, he began to down the cider he’d brought. Soarin’ wasn’t too far behind. The scribe was the odd stallion out. “Yes, I’d like to conclude this business as well.” Page Turner’s horn glowed, and he produced three envelopes. He distributed them to the three companions and then sighed. “Read them in private, of course. And do so only when it is properly night and not simply this abysmally undecided grayness. Failure to do so is unfortunate and will lead to disappointment.” “Why?” Rays asked between gulps. “Fire. Regardless, you won’t be able to read it.” Soarin’ had no idea how serious he was. “So, marching orders,” he speculated, lowering his voice. “In a matter of speaking, yes,” Page Turner said, matching his volume. “You will see. Also—” “Psst. Boss.” Soarin’ glanced over and saw a pleading Rays mimicking some sort of odd attempt at looking pitiful. “I need more bits to fulfill my mission. You know, the being distracting and drinking lots one.” “Aren’t you great camouflage,” Soarin’ muttered. “Stars, kid, are you a machine or a pegasus?” “What gets me ten bits?” “Either.” Soarin’ produced the money from a pouch in the saddlebag smushed between himself and the wall. “Are you even of age?” “Hells no!” Rays said cheerfully and wandered back to the bar. Soarin’ reflected on how far the star of the Wonderbolts had fallen. Though, if he were honest with himself, he had always been the butt of the collective, omnipresent laughter in the outfit. The difference was that he was a part of that laughter, caused it on purpose. But this new world was one where he spent a lot of time out of place. He grunted and was about to comment on the young pegasus when Big Mac spoke. “He’s excited to be here with you.” “How do you know?” Soarin’ asked. “Because he said so earlier, before you got here.” “He’s eager, alright,” Soarin’ groused, but most of the fire was out of it. He hadn’t been so different, really. It was common in pegasi of that age, right on the farther side of the divide of adulthood. You want to fit in, want to be a part of a crew or a gang. I guess we’re his new gang. It could be worse. “Now that our friend is busy,” Page Turner interrupted, “I believe I may finally ask you a question. Both of you. Can you trust this young stallion?” “Eeyup.” Soarin’ shrugged. He looked over to the bar. You’ve got to be kidding me. Really? Balancing one on his head? It kind of reminded him of Applejack, oddly. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “As long as he shares one of those…” “I am trying to be serious here,” Page Turner said. “Sorry,” Soarin’ offered. He kept his gaze on the pegasus in question. “Honestly? It depends on how you mean that. Like, do I trust him to not go squealing when the action starts or betray us? I don’t think he’s got that in him, and if Mac here is right, no motivation.” Of course, he grinned like a maniac over there, laughing, his whole self given over to the joyfully active slacking that came with subsidized drinking. “Do I trust him as in would I go back to back with him in a fight?” Soarin’ shrugged. “I don’t know yet.” “I suppose that is an answer enough for me,” Page Turner said as Rays returned. “How much longer we here, Cap?” he asked Soarin’. “I’ve got nowhere else to go for a while. Figure our friend here would rather split,” he replied, nodding at Page Turner. “Yes. I have much to do.” The scribe rose and adjusted his saddlebag once he was standing. “As always, a pleasure. Now, if you would excuse me…” He trailed off as all of their attentions were drawn towards the bar. An earth pony, a massive one almost as big as Macintosh, left the bar stool that was comically too small for him, stumbling back a step as he began to speak loudly and angrily. The pony next to him, also an earth pony but much smaller, leaned away from him. But this only angered the larger stallion, who moved in closer, demanding an apology loudly. “Look, I didn’t… do anything,” the smaller earth pony insisted. “You—” Before the aggressor could say what it was he had done, another pony had stepped in between them. The young stallion’s defender was a batpony, not quite middle aged, with an eye patch and numerous scars. Soarin’ noticed the way he carried himself, the way in which he stood directly between the maybe-attacker and what must be his charge or friend. This batpony was a soldier. The ambient noise of the tavern had died to a whisper as the huge earth pony huffed, staring down at the shorter batpony guard. Behind him, what passed for his friends gathered. Most of them were also earth ponies. All of them looked like bruisers. Soarin’ knew a lot about fights. He understood the anatomy of a bar fight as much as it could ever be unraveled. They always began the same way and ended the same way. You start with two ponies deep in their drinks, and a chair always gets knocked over, and one of them is always a complete, insufferable asshole, and they always end with everypony outside eating dirt. A lot could happen in between. “Look,” slurred the younger, smaller earth pony. “I don’t want… any trouble. I didn’t mean to knock it over, my… good stallion…” He coughed and leaned against the back of his apparent champion. “Now, please, we can settle this whole debacle… uh, like civilized stallions, yes?” That stupid kid is gonna get pounded into the ground, and he’s dragging his friend along. Soarin’ grimaced and slowly exited the booth, nudging Rays out of the way. It was frustrating, but in a sense, he was glad for what was inevitable. At last, something no one could laugh at him about. He was going to beat somepony’s face in. Page Turner put a hoof in front of him to block his way, and surprised, Soarin’ looked down at it. He glanced over towards the scribe to find his eyes wide and his mouth open. “Don’t tell me I’m not allowed to interfere, because I’ll be noticed, because I’ll just push you out of the way,” Soarin’ said first. “C’mon. I’m not going to let this stupid kid—” “Absolutely you’re not. By all means. Don’t you know who that is?” The young stallion—he reeked of money and soft flabby upbringing—showed his true colors. His voice cracked. When the bruiser and his cohorts had not backed down, he appealed to the bartender Rays had admired, only to be met with frightened eyes. No, nopony would help him here, not with this particular crew. “W-wait! Hold on,” he said, trying to hold them off just a moment longer. “Don’t you know who I am?” “Rich House boy,” the bruiser spat. “Fresh meat. Don’t be a little bitch, and maybe when I’m done—” Soarin’ had had enough. Gods, but he was grinning like a foal at Hearth’s Warming. This was his day, his moment. When was the last time he had been in an honest to goodness brawl? Far too long, that’s how long. Starfire was going to be furious. She would tell him he was stupid. Sometimes, he didn’t mind if ponies thought that. “Yo, stick-up-your-ass,” he called out across the tavern. All eyes turned towards him. The bruiser stopped in his tracks with a look of supreme confusion. “Yeah, you, big guy. Why don’t we cut the shrimp some slack, you know? I mean look at him.” He tsked, shaking his head. “Look like a bully, man.” It was all calculated, of course. They never took the easy way out. They always wanted to fight and bicker about it. Well, Soarin’ was a very obliging pony. “I know who you are, hotshot,” the bruiser growled. “Hooflicker, flying like a damn bird for the one with the moon on her ass and the rest of these friggin’ failures. I’m not afraid of you. Scram.” Big Mac was on his right already. Rays awkwardly shuffled at his left, shifting his weight from hoof to hoof like a mare waiting in line for the bathroom. Wow, wait to show the world your age, kid, Soarin’ groused, but he didn’t mind. Just made it better. What could be better than a baptism of fire? The pencil pusher wanted to see what the kid was made of? Soarin’ had fought side by side with a lot of slackers. He’d do it again. “Uh… Cap?” “Adults are talkin’,” Soarin’ said quietly. “I don’t think he’s gonna back down,” Rays said nervously. “Hell no, he isn’t,” Soarin’ replied, cheerfully. A bar fight begins not with thought but with instinct. It is a web of action and reaction in a haze of intoxication and forgotten except for brief flashes of impact and the rush of air past one’s ears as a bone-shattering kick goes by harmlessly. Soarin’s youth came up like a ghost under summons, and it lived in his grin and it burned in his eyes, a hundred smoke-filled nights and a hundred shit-eating grins and about as many scoldings from a dozen commanding officers and relatives. The bruiser struck first or tried to. He feinted as if he intended to make a rush at Soarin’ but twisted and sent two back hooves in the boy’s direction. The batpony could have dodged easily, but not without risking his charge, and so took both horseshoed hooves in the chest and crumpled. The sound of that impact was sickeningly wet. Soarin’ moved at the same time, forgetting his comrades entirely. One of the bruiser’s friends upended a table, and with a single fluid motion, Soarin’ unfurled his azure wings and lept over the table like a jaguar. His front hooves hit somepony’s face, and down he went to the filthy tavern floor, rolling, his eyesight filled with color and scattered light. The stallion bit him on the shoulder, like an animal, like a lion, and Soarin’ got his legs beneath him and kicked at anything close enough. He hit something soft that gave way and the biting stopped. Soarin’ was up on his hooves in a moment. They had the rich kid on the floor, and before Soarin’ could do anything about it, Rays hit him from the side, right in the stomach. The lanky pegasus bounced back and hit the floor hard, but the bruiser stumbled. It was all the young stallion on the floor needed. He kicked at his attacker’s legs and scrambled out of the way. The bruiser roared, and around them, Soarin’ saw bar patrons scattering. And then, against all odds, there was Page Turner. In his magic’s grip was a book, a tome like a brick, and the bruiser and he locked gazes for a brief moment. “What the—” It was all he could get out. The book slammed into his face at high speed, and he went flat on his back. Soarin’ didn’t have a chance to register anything further. One of the others was on his back, kicking at his sides and legs. He let out a pained whinny and went low, trying to get a good kick in, but this one was faster on his hooves than his friends. “Rays, come get this bastard!” he roared, continuing to take swipes. He couldn’t fight like this. He spun, only for his cheek to crash into a waiting hoof. He hit the ground with a thud. He felt the rush of air, smelt the stink of sweat and panic, as the young pegasus arced through the air over him, hitting something and causing a ruckus out of sight. He struggled to rise, disoriented and unsteady. His vision swam. A hazy, twinned apparition of Big Macintosh wandered in from the right, lowering his head under a panicking, backpedaling pegasus. Mac’s head went right under his chest, and between one blink and another, the foe was on his back on the bar, flailing and trying to move. Mac pushed him back behind the bar and then turned to face another. By the time that Soarin’ had gotten back on his hooves, it was over. The bruiser was out cold as were two of his friends. The other three had fled. Of his own ponies, he was in perhaps the worst shape. His bones all ached, and the joints where his wings met his body were sore. Did that idiot…? Stars, he bit me. Who does that? Rays had gotten by with only the beginnings of a bruise on his cheek and a cut above his eye. Macintosh looked immaculate. The batpony was not so lucky. He’d hit his head on the counter when he’d fallen and was out cold. Soarin’ inspected the wound carefully. He was glad to find it was not serious, but now there was the problem of what to do with a downed batpony. He’d meant what he said to the scribe earlier, but he also preferred not to be the center of attention when it came to things like this. Not to the ponies outside the bar. He groaned and nursed the beginnings of a world-class headache. “How’s the dandy, Rays?” he asked, grimacing. “He’s fine, Sir,” Rays answered, his voice tight. Soarin’ spared him a glance and found him standing over the fallen pony, legs spread in a battle-worthy stance, ready for anything. His nostrils flared; his wings were spread out for all the world like he was expecting somepony else to come for his new charge. “Glad to hear it. At ease, will you? Help him up.” Rays blinked and shook his head. He trembled a bit as he helped the pony up. “Sorry, bro,” he murmured, dusting him off. “Sorry? Sorry, why… why you’ve saved me, you brave bastard! I’m forever in your debt,” the pony replied with the grin of the confused and the survivors. “Para? Where is Paradise? I need to thank him…” “This him?” Soarin’ answered, standing over the sleeping batpony. The grin turned to a look of horror. “Para? Para, answer me!” He rushed over and was on the ground again in a moment, right next to his fallen guard. “Paradise, you will answer me right now. It’s an order.” When the stallion-at-arms did not answer, he began to stammer and panic. Rays came up beside him and bumped him. “Hey, hey, calm down. Chill… come on. Chill. He’s okay.” “He won’t move,” the rich pony said flatly as if there was nothing else to say. “Because the counter knocked him out cold,” Soarin’ said wearily. “He’s okay. He’ll live. We just need to get him out of here before the guard comes. Explaining this will be tedious, eh?” He smiled. It kind of hurt, but it was worth it. “What’s the name, kid? Soarin’.” Soarin’ extended his hoof. The other pony stared at it and joined his own to it slightly, bumping it as if it were unclean. Or, at least, as if it were a bit foreign. “Fable. Fable Rowan-Oak.” Oh. It was the only thing that Soarin’ could think. “Well, Fable,” Rays cut in. “Want to help me carry him?” “Y-yes…” Macintosh was behind him now, Soarin’ could almost sense him. His hoofsteps were like thunder now in the abandoned tavern. “Ain’t no guard on the street.” “Won’t be for a while. The lower tier is going to the dogs,” Soarin’ spat. “Too many fools and hoodlums like us, I guess.” The one pony he wanted to see was Page Turner, but the unicorn was gone, vanished in the confusion. Of course. I saw the look on that face. Soarin’ watched the young scion of the House of Rowan-Oak and his own rookie prop the now awake and groaning batpony between them and pursed his lips. Rowan-Oak, the house with the most soldiers, the best levies. The House that won wars. The House that had been following Lord Blueblood around for a decade and who had followed him right into the rebellious faction. And so Soarin’ knew exactly what the look on Page Turner’s face was. It was the look a chess master gets right before he sets a beautiful trap. RARITY Rainbow and Rarity walked the streets of Imperial Center in the liminal dusk when the gray of the new world gave way to the familiar and unchanging night, side by side. Fluttershy had wanted to stay and rest, but the prospect of doing nothing for hours had driven Rainbow to desperation. She’d pleaded with them to go somewhere, do something with her, so she could avoid both loneliness and inaction, and Rarity had relented. No, if she were honest, it had not been that hard to convince her. Inaction was one thing, but tension was another. Rainbow hadn’t met Fluttershy’s eyes since her outburst. It was not a matter of shuffling about. She had seen many ponies drop their gazes in shame over the years, and this was not the same. Neither she nor Dash had mentioned changelings or Fluttershy since they left the palace. Most of the talk was aimless or about the surroundings, reliving old days. There, the street corner where once a frenzied Rarity had run a crafts booth for the Crystal Fair, and there the open greenery where Dash had tried her hoof at jousting in the old style. But Rainbow Dash was no conversationalist and never had been. There was only so much air and fluff she could pad into a conversation to avoid the quicksand tugging at them both, begging to be talked about. But she was a bad conversationalist, which meant that when the other things died off, she had nothing to replace it with because the point itself was hard. Rarity knew all of this. She was good at certain things. Understanding how ponies talked to other ponies was one of them. At least, she liked to believe that this was true. It was possible that she overestimated her abilities in this area, always very possible with anything involving intuition and other ponies. The problem of other minds is so troubling, Rarity thought, pursing her lips as they watched a patrol of city guard pass by. They were handsome fellows, she supposed, and seemed dependable enough at a glance. Light barding, more decorative and indicative of their roles than meant as protection against any sort of martial implement. They looked well fed, focused, in control. These were their streets and their ponies, and it had never been any other way. No scheme or monster could tear it apart. This was what their walking said, at least. Rarity was not being idle. When the guards were out of earshot, she spoke to Rainbow. “Impressive fellows, hm?” “Eh? I mean, how?” “They simply seem rather competent. I bet there is less of a problem with crime here.” Rainbow shrugged. “I guess.” There was a pause, and as Rarity expected, she gestured wildly at the air. “It’s the gear.” “Go on,” Rarity coaxed as she gestured with a nod. They crossed the street. “It’s old. It’s worn. They polished it, and they’re trying to keep up appearances, but honestly that stuff has seen a lot better days.” “So they use vintage gear,” Rarity said. “No, their gear is somewhere else. On somepony else who needs it more than they do.” “A legionnaire, then.” Rarity looked about. Their conversation was not so loud, but it was definitely too sensitive to be having while walking the street. She squinted. Was that a nice little cafe? Why, Celestia bless her, it was. She imagined they had tea. Wonderful tea—she distinctly remembered they had wonderful tea in the Empire. And coffee. Gods, the very idea of honest to stars coffee of high caliber… if it were not positively unladylike, it would almost be lust, that’s what she would be tempted to call the feeling coursing through her. Coffee! “Uh… Rares?” “Hmm?” She smiled at the cafe. Because it was wonderful. “You okay?” “I am delightful. Wonderful. Yes,” she answered. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something you said?” “Uh, you missed like a bunch of stuff.” “I… well. I am quite sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I was… am deep in thought. We should perhaps not be talking on the streets of such things. Would you mind sitting?” She turned and gave Rainbow a conciliatory smile. It was not often that her attention slipped. Rainbow simply blinked at her. “Wow, you really didn’t hear me at all. I… damn, like I was about to get serious.” Rarity wilted. “I’m… I’m sorry… honestly, I saw a cafe up ahead, and I became envious of the obvious lack of rationing here, and I just…” Rainbow sighed. “Geeze.” “I’m very sorry, Rainbow. Come, sit with me and let us talk, yes?” “Yeah.” Rarity led the way, pushing a burning shame back down her throat to coil itself around her heart. It was awful of her, to ignore a friend in such a way, even for a moment. A Lady gave. They seated themselves quickly, and she made sure to smile at the pretty mare at the counter with her uniform and her promise of coffee and perhaps a cookie—she would see if they were out of the oven in the back yet. As soon as the mare turned, Rarity grimaced. Was she so easily distracted? And she had spent so much time calling Pinkie a slave to vice. “Now… please, forgive me, Rainbow. I see you pouting.” “I’m not pouting,” Rainbow said, pouting. “Of course, forgive me again.” She blinked. “You know… I never did ask you if you wanted anything.” “I didn’t really think about it.” “I remember that you love coffee.” Rainbow grinned. “Yeah, I tried quitting. Remember that? No caffeine for two weeks!” “Yes. How could I forget?” Rarity said, leaning in with a grin of her own to match. “You were insufferable. I felt like you yawned so much during that experiment that it was a miracle you didn’t dislocate your jaw.” “Heh. Yeah,” Rainbow replied, eyes wandering, glazing over. Thinking of the past, no doubt, Rarity reasoned. “It’s on me. Shining gave me some bits when I mentioned that we might go out on the town briefly.” Rainbow’s ears perked. “Sure, Rares. I’ll wait till she gets back.” “Now,” Rarity said, wishing she could lean even further in without seeming ridiculous, “talk. I think you have quite a bit of that to be doing.” “I didn’t mean to yell,” Rainbow said, ears folded back against her skull, her eyes down, her forelegs sagging as if lifeless. “Well, that was rather straight to the point.” “Yeah. I don’t know. I mean, like, I’m still not convinced I’m really wrong, you know? But you saw how she was looking at me. Luna, that hurt so bad, Rares. Like I had frickin’ punched her or something. I don’t know. Words are stupid. Feelings are dumb.” “Sometimes. I like them sometimes, myself,” Rarity said. “Like… I don’t know. Tell me I was right. Or wrong. Something.” Rarity sighed. “I can’t make your decisions for you, Rainbow. Do you think you were wrong?” “I know I shouldn’t have gotten so angry like that. I guess.” “I will admit that I am perplexed about how to react myself, to this whole affair,” Rarity admitted and shushed Rainbow silent as the mare waved to her. “Hold your thoughts, darling, I’ll return,” she said and walked back to the counter. “Here you are, ma’am. Six bits,” the barrista all but sang. “Thank you. Ah, I see you’re quite the artist with foam. I’ve always admired how you do this, with the milk and making little patterns,” she remarked. The mare blushed. “Thank you, ma’am. I really love when ponies notice. Could I get you anything else?” “Just another. A, uh… an au lait; that seems safe enough for our pegasus friend.” Rarity waited until it was finished and then came back to the little table. It was really a lovely setting, as the setting sun shone through the towering crystal. The streets were bathed in a rainbow of color, not unlike the wild, unruly mane of her friend, who watched her as she took her seat. “It’s a lovely day. Well, a lovely night,” she corrected, gesturing. “Don’t you think so, Rainbow? I’m sorry if I seem frivolous. But it has been so long since I could simply enjoy a thing such as this.” “No, I get that.” Rainbow paused and looked down at her coffee. “Geeze, did you really have to hit on the barrista?” Rarity blinked. “I beg your pardon?” Rainbow grumbled. With a sigh, Rarity sat and floated the coffee over like a little ship of peace. “I simply admired the work of an artist where and when I did not expect to find it.” Sipping at her own coffee, she found it a bit too hot and sucked in cool air to run over her tongue. They sipped in silence for a moment. “Do you think I’m a bad pony sometimes? With stuff like that?” Rainbow asked, looking directly at her, not hiding her gaze at all. Rarity did not have the presence of mind or the energy to compose herself. She grimaced. “Rainbow, honestly, if I thought you were a bad pony… would we be here? Would I have accompanied you? Would I really have gone anywhere with you?” “You… need me to hit things?” Rarity rolled her eyes. “Darling, do you remember the manticore?” Rainbow snorted. “Yes, all of you forget that! But besides that, I’ve needed you to not hit things more than I’ve needed that muscle exercised so far. Though…” She looked about briefly. There were few ponies around. Only two sat at the tables in the open air. A few wandered by. “That may change here soon. But regardless… no, Rainbow, I do not think you are a bad pony. I think you’ve learned bad things, and I think you make mistakes, but many ponies do. Myself very much included.” Rainbow sighed. “Beyond that… I don’t know if it is wrong or right to trust changelings. They don’t seem to have had any trouble with it, and I doubt that Shining Armor and Cadance of all ponies would make that choice lightly. In many ways, I understand what you were saying. The changelings… frighten me. I dislike them rather strongly.” “Dislike.” “But I would not kill them all if I had the chance. Perhaps I am weak then, Rainbow. So very weak.” Rainbow huffed. “If all we are reduced to is simple barbarism, simply lashing out at everything that isn’t us that moves out there, then we are lost, Rainbow. We’ll just be holed up in our cities sneaking potshots at hapless survivors outside who just want to find food until we all freeze and the sun dies. Sound familiar at all? In a year—no, I recant. Less than a year. Far too soon, at any rate, that would have been us in Canterlot. Raiders by another name.” “I’m not a raider,” Rainbow said firmly. “I don’t think you are,” Rarity responded. “And I would rather us all be able to say that when this is all over.” “We can’t just… I mean what, go out and hug those bastards? That stuff is a bunch of baloney, and you know it,” Rainbow said, nursing her cup. “And did I say to act foolishly? You’ll recall I said I wasn’t sure I would have trust them either. But there’s a difference between forgetting the offenses of the past and watching ponies or other beings who can think and feel die in such a way. I would not wish those monsters upon even the Houses Major.” Rainbow couldn’t help but grin, but it was more predatory than mirthful. “I don’t know… Just one would be enough. They’d soil themselves.” “Yes. Thank you for the image,” Rarity replied, rolling her eyes. She continued in on the coffee. They spoke of nothing for a while. Coffee is congenial, but it is not always conversation that is inspired. Occasionally, a companionable silence is what seems most apropos for sharing on cafe porches, and Rarity was more than content. It was like Ponyville. If she shut her eyes and imagined the smell of the Cakes’ bakery, it might as well have been Ponyville itself, born again. A light noise of bustling streets but not so loud as to be unpleasant. The smell of food and the laughter of content ponies on their evening business. Often, far more often then perhaps was prudent from a purely business point of view, she had closed up early on particularly slow days and wandered by the Corner for a pastry of some sort and coffee. Pinkie would come and sit, and the gossip of the day would flow. Twilight, the true caffeine addict, would arrive eventually, craving something only Pinkie could provide. In this case, a mocha made the way she liked it. All of her friends, any of her friends could come by on those days, or maybe none at all, and either way it was still good. It was glorious. She had forgotten more than she had thought possible. But were you ever one to stop by, my lovely Rainbow Dash? Ah, sometimes. Briefly, between one cloud and the next. The silence was not awkward. It was companionable, gentle, a thing of breezes. Time passed both slowly and quickly, or so it seemed to her. She watched Rainbow’s tension ease away, and soon they were laughing again at almost forgotten stories of Ponyville and days when the world was younger. Every time she wondered how Rainbow could bear to sit still for so long, she would find that her friend had launched into yet another story. She did not mind. She did not mind it at all. It had been a good decision, following Rainbow. No, nothing had really been solved. That was not the point. Her suspicions and theories about the Empire and its ruler? They would all be moot soon, or she would have ample evidence with which to construct new theories after their audience, and so there was really no need to talk it over. Fluttershy Right away, she noticed that things were different, when her friends returned. Fluttershy heard them before she saw them, chuckling in the halls. The sound brought a smile to her face. Laughing was a commodity, after all. When they walked in the door, Rainbow Dash balked, but only after catching sight of Fluttershy, and only in a way that spoke volumes. She would not meet Fluttershy’s gaze. But she also did not retreat. Rarity pointedly stepped aside and nudged Rainbow in the ribs. “Hey…” Rainbow fidgeted, not bothering to protest beyond what she had said. When at last she caught Fluttershy’s eyes, she did so slowly, uncertainly. “Hello, Rainbow,” Fluttershy offered, going first. She did not like making the first move. Rainbow was always the one who did, and it had worked that way forever. But she was beginning to grow tired of waiting to be reconciled. “Hey, Flutters. I’m… I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry I got angry.” Fluttershy smiled. “It’s okay. Did you enjoy your walk around the city?” Rainbow nodded and Rarity began to speak. “It was lovely, Fluttershy. I do wish you’d been there to see the way the sun reflects in these crystals. Perhaps tomorrow, hm?” “Of course,” Fluttershy replied softly, and patted the bed. The bed where Fluttershy sat was at the center of the rather large quarters she had received. It had a full canopy, which she had found fascinating, paintings on the walls, chests and drawers--more or less everything a room of luxury could have, in her imagination. And her imagination had been helped along by long stays in Celestia’s palace. Her friends sat, adjusting themselves, and then Rarity began. Her eyes seemed alight, her manner one of nervous excitement. Fluttershy found it draining, but not in a bad way. She was happy somepony was happy. Rainbow, too, seemed content, and she sat close to Rarity. Fluttershy stored this moment for further review. She did this with many things. “Now, dinner will be soon,” Rarity said. “And with it comes our meeting with the Princess.” “Empress,” Fluttershy offered, a bit timidly. Rarity blinked. “Hm?” “I thought at first it was the title that the ponies here used, but Cadance dropped the Princess from her name herself.” Rainbow looked between a startled Rarity and an even-toned Fluttershy quickly, squinting her eyes as if trying to make out writing far away. “What? What’s the deal, Rares?” “It’s… I mean, it’s not as if it has to mean anything,” Rarity said. Feebly. That was the word. Feeble. Fluttershy added this to her assessment of things. “I don’t know,” Fluttershy said. “It, well, might be.” “Can you please tell me what the hay that means?” grumbled Rainbow. Rarity sighed, her ears drooping. “Well… the Princess title is what showed that she still considered herself Equestrian in some way. She kept it of her own volition after the coronation.” “She wasn’t from Equestria originally, wasn’t she? I thought not…” Rainbow said, scratching her mane. “No, though she loved us and our country. She was not. She is Henosian,” Rarity began, and paused. “It’s not as if it has to mean something bad. It’s just sort of disconcerting on the eve of our request for aid that she would do so.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m reading into this far too much.” “I just wanted to know what you would think. I didn’t mean to worry you,” Fluttershy said. “I’m sorry, Rarity.” But Rarity waved her apology away. “No, no. You’re quite alright. Perhaps I am simply a bit more sensitive to it.” She paused, humming. “You know… No, I think that you might not. We used to be noble, my family.” Rainbow looked at her askance. “No way,” she said flatly. “Indeed we were,” Rarity affirmed. “A Major House, too. House Belle! Our House words… ‘Of Great Heart’, if you’ll believe it. I always thought they were strange ones, if comforting. Or aggrandizing.” She chuckled. “It’s silly, but I grew up on that history. We lost our house hundreds of years ago. I forget many of the details. When I was much younger, I could have recited the whole tale, for it was long and sad, but I’ve lost most of it.” “I never knew,” Rainbow began, but a knock on Fluttershy’s door cut her off. Cicero, the stallion who had shown Fluttershy to her room, informed them that dinner would be served shortly, and that the Empress would see them beforehoof in the throne room. Before any of them could say a thing, he left. They looked at each other in confusion, but stood. “I… Well, we were going to see them anyhow,” Rarity said, and shook her head. “My, but for some reason I begin to feel ill at ease, my friends. Do you feel off, Fluttershy?” “Me?” Fluttershy responded, cocking her head to one side. “Yes. You’re marvelously perceptive. I trust your eyes and feelings more than my own.” Fluttershy hummed, and then said, “I feel like there’s something we’re not being told, but I don’t think we’re in trouble or danger or anything bad and nasty like that… just they don’t want to tell us something. Or they don’t know yet. I mean, the other ponies. That Cicero pony knows. He wouldn’t look us in the eye.” Rarity nodded. “Right, then. Shall we go? Rainbow? Fluttershy?” “I’m starving!” Rainbow said, right after Fluttershy knew she would. “Let’s get this over with already.” “Yes, we should go,” Fluttershy added. And so they did, walking back along the halls they had come through, the ones adorned with tapestries and paintings and more gold than any of them had ever seen in another single place in their entire lives. Even at night, it shone with the reflected light of hundreds of candles. A scattering of maids lit these as they passed, most balancing on stairs, most of them Crystal Ponies. Fluttershy worried they would fall, but her attention was torn from their spectacle by the great door to the Imperial Throne. The Obsidian Throne, she corrected herself as the doors opened. They walked in, and in an instant she was confused. The windows were covered with great tarps that had been rather obviously tacked on in a hurry. The room smelled slightly stale, as if no pony had let it air out in weeks.There were tables with haphazard piles of paper on them and a few dozen ponies of various races in barding worrying over them, talking in low voices over something urgent. One would rush to another table with papers, and then return when something was explained to him, and so they went without caring a bit for the three newcomers. The Obsidian Throne itself was under a great tent made of tarp, shielding it from light. What light there was, at least. Half of the lights had been left unlit, and the others were random in their placement. This was no throne room. It was a war room, one that Fluttershy realized had not been opened many times in months. She saw bedding now, by the walls. Rarity saw them too, aparently. “Fluttershy, do you--” “Yes.” “But… this is…” “This place is worse than my house used to be,” Rainbow grumbled. “I guess we, um, should keep going,” Fluttershy suggested quietly. “I mean, if that’s what you think. I mean, we should.” They did. None of the three mares of Canterlot could muster an answer to the strange sights as they passed the worried, frantic, sleepless planners. How long had they been here? Why did they not leave? Did they not? Fluttershy had no real data. They approached the great tent and stopped. Shining Armor emerged, his expression flat. Or so it appeared. To Fluttershy he looked distressed, torn, unsure. His eyes would rest on each of them but briefly, and his gaze stayed nowhere for long. He pursed his lips and gritted his teeth. “Shining, good… ah, evening,” Rarity said, stepping forward. “Yeah,” Shining said. “Don’t move, please. Also, be quiet. Try not to be, like, exciteable.” “I cry your pardon?” Rarity shot back. “Just go easy, alright? She’s bad enough as it is.” “What on earth are you talking about? Please be--” But Rarity did not finish. From the tent came a familiar voice with an unfamiliar burden. It was Cadance’s bright, cheerful voice twisted by something in the dark, cool enclosure. Strained, as if her throat had never had water, shaky as a newborn foal. “It’s alright, Shining. Come here, girls.” Fluttershy gulped, and before the other two moved, advanced. She would not be afraid. She would not be afraid. The voice was so different that all at once she was afraid to look and see what the truth was, but she heard pain. She heard pain and she could not bear to hear pain. She stood within the dark, but could not see Cadance. There was a faint glow that she thought came from a horn, and some strange dancing lights that she did not understand. Her eyes, tricked by the glowing candles from before, perhaps. “M-may I have some light?” she asked. Rarity, behind her, gave it. A very dim ball of illumination floated into the enclosure. Fluttershy covered her mouth in horror. She wanted to cry. Cadance sat upon the obsidian throne like a wraith, like a body that should have died but had not. Her face was sunken, her eyes were dim. She smiled, but it only seemed to make everything worse, as frayed hair covered her face as it would, grown wild but without lustre. She was almost skeletal, like one who starved, and her labored breathing seemed to fill the tent like thunder. But then Fluttershy understood, and then she did weep, if quietly, as her friends came to stand at her side. Cadance’s horn did indeed glow, but it was not the sign of magic she was accustomed to. The aura was dark, almost alive, dancing like a true fire, shining out from the spirals of her beautiful sculpted horn. The aura radiated out from tiny rashes and bruises along her legs and abdomen, and behind the whites of her eyes it waited like a crouching beast to spill out. Along her neck and legs and cheeks and chest, everywhere there was room to draw them or carve them or however such things were placed, there were runes glowing with that secret purplish fire. They looked as if they hurt. But it was what she held that tied it all together. Nestled safely against her chest was the Crystal Heart, which pulsed as if alive with a purple light she had not seen before, but which she felt like a hand pressing down on her lungs and heart. Cadance stroked it like one would stroke a foal, held it as if it were her own child. She coughed, and the force of it rippled along her body and shook every bone. She was not dying. Fluttershy would hear it in that cough. No, she was not dying, but she suffered. She wasted, and Fluttershy knew too much about medicine. She did want to know such things because they made her understand. “I’m always glad,” Cadance said, “to see my favorite sister-in-law’s friends.” She was trading her life for time. The shield had been up all along. Maybe it was protecting every single city in the Empire. Dozens of cities and towns, and all of that magic pouring out of her every moment of every day for a year. That could never last.