//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: The Castle Canterlot // by Honey Mead //------------------------------// The Castle Canterlot: Chapter 7 “We are a herd species by nature. Where one leads, others will follow. Even the smallest thread can change the shape of the weave for generations to come.” —H.R.M. Queen Faust Invictus “The second greatest threat to Ioka is your mother, and you didn’t think that that was something I might like to know?” That Shining didn’t shout those words was due only to his years of experience, both in the guard and under his own mother’s watchful gaze. Cadence rolled her eyes. “Honestly, it never crossed my mind.” “She’s your mother!” “Who’s been exiled to the Moon for a thousand years.” Shining bristled, more at her dismissive I-shouldn’t-have-to-explain-this-to-you tone than the excuse. “It’s not like you ever asked about her.” The counter struck out of nowhere. “I… bu…” Shining choked out before rallying to hold the line. “That’s not the point!” “You’re right. The point is that she is back,” Cadence continued to press the assault, “and Auntie apparently isn’t going to fight her. So that leaves me. Now,” Cadence struggled against the modified shield spell that was preventing her from teleporting, “are you going to let me go before I make you let me go?” “No.” “Shining Artorias Armour! You let me go this instant, or so help me…” “Or what?” Shining smirked, recognizing a flaw in her defences. “You’ll break my spell? Ha!” “Don’t tempt me.” “Cadence… Love… Honey, you can’t bluff me.” She tried to glare at him harder, but Shining’s confident smirk never wavered. It was a rout, the adversary in full retreat, all that was left were the terms… “But Shiny!” Cadence whined. The last ditch sneak attack was valiant, but ultimately futile. “No. I can’t let you go gallivanting off. You need to stay here, where I—we can protect you. With Celestia gone—” He noticed the tactical error too late. In his overconfidence, he’d allowed himself to come within striking distance. Cadence cut him off with a kiss. The embrace lulled him closer as he started to return the affection without thinking. He recognized her magic pouring into him but could do nothing to stop it, his own magic faltering against the onslaught. When she finally pulled back and they broke apart, Shining was left panting for breath. He heard her apologize moments before she disappeared in a cyan flash. It was nearly a minute before he’d fully recovered. Growling under his breath, he turned and trotted out of the armoury. “I have got to stop letting her do that!” — — — TCC — — — The situation in the throne room was going about as well as could be expected. From his vantage point, Chronicle watched herds congeal and divide in a display that only a mathematician or micro-biologist could find fascinating. Snow Blind’s plan had fallen apart in a spectacular fashion the instant after she spoke. Or perhaps not. It was difficult to ascertain exactly what her long-term plans were, but, for the moment, she’d done nothing but cause chaos and the shouting that accompanied it. It was an oversight on the Princess’ part to not hammer out an effective means of selecting a regent in the case of an extended, unforeseen absence. Or, then again, it wasn’t, and she fully intended this to be the outcome as a fail-safe to prevent the politicians from ever gaining too much control. Yes, Chronicle liked that explanation more. It was the sort of thing the Princess would do. Still, it left him in something of a bind. While he had ‘friends’ in the council, and his opinion carried some amount of weight, he lacked an actual voice and the physical ability to make it heard. So he sat in silence, waiting in the hopes that something, anything, would happen to get the ball rolling. It could have been worse. The Prime Chancellor could have not been visiting family in Vanhoover. A hint of lilacs twitched his nose, and Chronicle’s back stiffened. “Bookkeeper,” Star’s voice whispered in his ear. Not bothering to glance behind himself, he said, “Please tell me you have good news.” “She is coming.”—Chronicle sighed in relief—“But,”—only to stop midway through—”she claims that there is naught that she can do.” Before more could be said, the throne room doors swung open on well-oiled hinges. From his perch, Chronicle could see the Revered Speaker stride purposefully down the long carpet, red-gold robes trailing in her wake. A pair of acolytes, with the same rust red mane and pure white coat, followed at her side. The others didn’t notice her entrance at first, too caught up in their ‘debating’. It wasn’t until she was less than three lengths away that they started to react. Their voices gradually fell silent. Like a hoof run through a cream pie, they parted to let the Sisters through. While the pegasi only gave the trio space enough to pass, the unicorns and earth ponies bowed their heads in a show of deference. It was a grudging sort of reverence that the politicians had for the Sisterhood. While some few were devout practitioners, most viewed them as an unfortunate fact of life. A power base which they could never control or circumvent. The ‘Bodies Politic’ was a truly odd beast. At first glance, it might seem like a chimera of sorts, with three heads bickering over how to devour its latest meal. At closer inspection, however, it became evident that each head was that of a gorgon, where hundreds of writhing and snapping snakes grew from its scalps, each fighting to guide its own head. Accepting that, the Sisterhood was its heart, with no real say, but vital nonetheless. For the Chancellors of the House of Commons, it was a simple matter of survival; affiliation with the Sisterhood brought votes. The Ladies, as best Chronicle had ever reasoned, had it ground into them at an early age, a legacy from ages past. As for the Commanders of the Conclave, they cared little for them. Were it not for the mutual respect given from one leader to another, they would have been expected to go around. Upon reaching the dais, Blessed Harmony bowed low, touching her horn to the floor—the acolytes acting in mimic. Rising, she ascended the first two steps and turned to face the gathering of nearly all Equestria’s leadership. A fire burned behind her eyes. “Ladies, Commanders, Chancellors,” she started with a steady, firm tone that gained a harsher, more biting edge with each passing word, “I have never been more disappointed in the lot of you than I am at this moment! For the first time in living memory, Equestria is facing a true crisis, and you, the vaunted leaders of the herds, stand here nickering and neighing while the ponies you are supposed to lead are on the verge of panicking in the streets! “Each and every one of you has fought tooth and tail to expand your control over our land. Each and every one of you has professed your desire to ease Her Divine Highness’ burden of ruling so vast a nation alone. And what do you do when given the opportunity to show her just how capable you are? You become no better than a pack of Diamond Dogs fighting over glass jewel. “For years, it has been my advice that Her Divine Highness should dissolve this sham you call a ruling body. A pack of stubborn braying mules the lot of you. But, in her wisdom, she chose to keep you, assuring me that, even in your uselessness, you provided some service of value to her ponies. She told me that there were limits to her time and attention, Goddess or no, and that you lot would fill those voids as they arose. “Her Divine Highness has seen fit to grant you an unprecedented opportunity to show that her faith has not been mislaid. For the first time in a thousand years, it is up to you to lead the herds without her guiding light, to show her that the example she has set has not been ignored or forgotten.” Blessed Harmony closed her eyes and shook her head. “I imagine she will be far more open to my council when she returns.” — — — TCC — — — While far from a well-oiled machine, the change was impressive. With the Revered Speaker watching over them, they performed arguably better than if Princess Celestia were there in her place. The blinders were off, and the safety net was gone. They all realized that treading water was no longer an option and it was swim toward shore or drown. Madam Speaker Blackwell, Commandant General Snow Blind, and Vice-Prime Chancellor Second Spring were all doing their best to maintain civil tongues. The subtle jabs and not-so-subtle retorts were bitten back in preference of open debate. Within minutes, stop-gaps were decided upon and run out to the scribes to be copied and sent out across Equestria by wing, hoof, and curulícum. Most notable was a dispensation for the guard allowing them free-rein to swear in temporary officers until such time as everything had calmed down. Statements were drawn up and sent out to the Criers and the Press to help alleviate the worries of concerned and panicky citizens. Unfortunately, none of that would hold for long. A day on the outside, Chronicle guessed. For his part, Chronicle did his best to direct the palace’s efforts. The highest priority of which was locating the absent Princess Cadence, and by association, Captain Armour. “Has there been any word from Ponyville?” Boisterous Banter, the Master Crier, shook her head. “It’s such a small town, they don’t have any official curulícuma, and it will be hours yet before a flier can make it back.” Chronicle massaged his temple. He’d never been one to worry much, mostly because he was never in a position where it was his responsibility to worry. Before his promotion, he’d been a scribe, and every day had clearly defined goals. After his promotion, it had been much the same. Anything that might have caused him to worry was set aside with the caveat that, ‘Princess Celestia will know what to do’. He focused on his breathing and silently repeated one of the oldest of mantras he knew, ‘Celestia guide us. Celestia protect us. Celestia shelter us.’ “Ma’am, sir.” A young pegasus mare in royal guard armour stopped before the group, breaking Chronicle from his thoughts. She made a small bow to him before saluting to the captains Gust and Quartz. “There’s a situation at the Griffon Embassy.” — — — TCC — — — Cadence stood atop her tower staring out into the world. Night blanketed the whole of Ioka. The lights of the city, motes of warmth and color against the dark, were almost beautiful. Closing her eyes, she centered herself. There had been a time, those first years after ascending, when it took all of her concentration to see the strands of Love permeating the land. Like spider-webs that tethered everyone to those they held dear. Now, it took nothing at all. Just a blink, and there they were.   Most mages, even Celestia—barring prayers—relied wholly on divination magic to suss out the location of a particular pony. While that served well enough for most, it was notoriously vague in its details. Depending on the particular spell, the information could come in the form of a direction and distance, an image of the surrounding area—particularly useless if said area was in the middle of a forest or sprawling city—or, for those so inclined, map coordinates. There were a few other forms, but they all possessed a singular flaw. None could be used for direct teleportation. The tendrils of Love were far more precise. Each was a single, point to point connection that could—given the ability to see them in the first place—be followed directly to either end. Very useful when playing hide-n-seek with a naturally gifted teleporter. It required no casting, no extra material such as a crystal ball or map. Most importantly, it would allow teleportation to within inches of the target. Not that it was without its flaws. Save for the few most precious of loves, identifying which cord led to whom was no mean feat. Love was not so simple as to only touch wives to husbands and parents to children. Friendship was its own type of love, and sometimes, so was hate. Growing and shrinking, sparking and guttering, glowing brightly or black and hollow: it was a tangled mess of cords that bound ponies together, lifting them up when it was pure, and choking them when it ran foul. Some centuries back, she’d met an adventure. When looking upon her, she noticed a chain of black-iron bound tightly about her essence like so much armour. Cadence took to speaking with her at great length, drawing at the mare’s life story one tale at a time. As she did, one name kept repeating again and again. It seemed, wherever one went, the other was never far behind. The mare had lost count of the times she’d nearly killed, or been killed by, the other. Somehow, despite not being able to step a hoof in the same room as her rival without a brawl starting, they had developed a love so strong that it prevented her from making any other connections. It had confounded Cadence at the time, eventually driving the mare away for her incessant prodding. She’d witnessed the same thing on more occasions, though it remained one of the rarer forms of love. Still, it defied her ability to understand or explain. Now, as she looked down on Canterlot, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of armour she hadn’t worn in decades at least, she searched for something similar connected to herself. Clearing away the chaff was no easy task, and Shining, the big galoot, didn’t make things any easier. Like Sol next to the stars, the cable that attached them at the heart nearly drowned out all the others. Pushing it aside, she sifted through the rest. Aunt Celestia and Twilight were the next largest, then their families and the families from her former husbands and their legacies. Finally, after pushing past all her distant friends and family, all her acquaintances, many of whom she could no longer identify, she found it. It was a brittle, thorn riddled, ash coated string. She was almost annoyed that it was still there at all, but then, there were some forms of love that truly were hard to kill. Grasping hold as though it were a particularly slimy, unpleasant stalk of asparagus, she followed it to its source. Or she would have if it hadn’t split in three. “What?” she shouted into the open air. That was not possible. It didn’t make any sense! She grit her teeth and shook it off. There wasn’t time to worry about it; she had an aunt to rescue and a world to save. Starting with the rightmost connection, she traced her way to its source with haste. It came as no surprise that it led to a woods on the western edge of Ponyville. Following the central string next brought her right back to Ponyville again, only now off to the eastern side of the small town. Grasping the third and final strand, she started down it, and stopped. Her eyes popped open. “Hello, daughter.”