//------------------------------//
// Rising Shadows 7 
// Story: The Lunar Rebellion 
// by Chengar Qordath 
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Rightly was long in answering my challenge. Though I was not especially eager to face him in battle, and the delay served mine own purposes well enough, a part of me wished for an immediate answer, that I might be spared the uncertainty that came from waiting.

‘Twas easy enough to guess at why he was so long in responding. In truth, for all that I knew mine own duty I was unsure what would happen if I attempted to meet him in battle. Would I be able to strike without hesitation when my blades would cut into the flesh of a stallion I had once thought to name as my husband? And if I found that I could bury my feelings beneath the armor of duty for the duration of the duel, could I then endure the guilt that would come with striking him down? ‘Tis far easier to speak of one’s duties requiring shedding the blood of former friends, lovers, or family when ‘tis a distant reality than it is to actually do the deed.

Several of the hetairoi approached Rightly, and I noted both Lance and Dusk among their numbers. As they spoke, I struck upon a means by which Rightly might do his duty whilst avoiding battle with me. Though there was a greater tactical and strategic benefit in my facing him directly, in my heart I hoped that he had uncovered the same possibility that I had.

As fate or fortune would have it, he had uncovered that truth. He flew towards me, the captain of his hetairoi at his side. “I have heard your challenge, Shadow Kicker of the Clan Kicker.” I was pleased to note that despite Cyclone’s attempt to declare me an outcast from my clan, Rightly still addressed me by my proper name. “I accept your challenge, and name the captain of my hetairoi, Lance Charger, as my champion for this battle. I trust there are no objections?”

 Though ‘twas customary for a warrior of Pegasopolis to fight their own battles, there were rare exceptions made for those of high rank in the case of battlefield duels. Naming a champion allowed a Commander to avoid the loss of honor that would come from refusing a duel without requiring that he turn his attention from the broader battlefield to settle a matter of personal honor. In short, the custom existed to prevent precisely what I had intended to do. I was uncertain how I should receive the news that I would face a champion. Though I was glad that I would not be forced to shed Rightly’s blood in battle, I had hoped to detain him directly with the duel.

Still, the situation could yet be turned to my advantage. Rightly would still be expected to leave a portion of his forces to witness the battle. Commander Celestia had also charged me with ensuring Lance’s survival, and I could think of few better ways to do so than to be her opponent in the coming battle. While some measures would have to be taken to ensure that she survived the duel itself, such would be a simple enough matter.

I flew forward and met Rightly’s eyes. “I accept, on the condition that our battle be unarmed and carried only to submission. I have no quarrel with Lance Charger, and would find no honor in her taking her life.” (1)

1: Despite the fact that Shadow declared a desire for juris ungula, field duels of this sort were far more informal than proper duels. There were no formal terms to field duels beyond a general prohibition against outside interference or dishonorable tactics. However, combatants would frequently agree to field rules which were usually intended to either prevent loss of life (as is the case here) or to make the duel more sporting. One of the more common arrangements during the Lunar Rebellion was that a unicorn would refrain from magic beyond simple levitation in exchange for the pegasus fighting the battle on the ground.

It’s also worth noting that, Pegasopolan pride being what it was, battles that only ended when one of the parties submitted could still end with death. 

Rightly offered no objection to the rule, though I had not judged it likely that he would. Though honor and loyalty had made us enemies, neither of us would seek the other’s lifeblood if we could avoid doing so whilst satisfying honor. “The victor shall make a prisoner of the defeated, then.” Rightly proposed. “I presume we will also include a promise of compliance to facilitate the capture?”

“Naturally.” I could hardly be expected to make a prisoner of Lance if her fellow hetairoi descended upon me to free her the instant I was victorious in the duel. Or the same with my clan, if I were beaten. Though I prayed such would not be the case, for if I were lost, many of my clan would likely join Cyclone’s renegades.

I turned my eyes to Lance herself, wondering if I might uncover what it was about her that Commander Celestia found so compelling. She had her mother’s lean, honed strength, though her golden coat bespoke her Doo heritage on her sire’s side. Her white mane was cut in a style that mirrored her mother and lent her the same air of fierce determination. However, where Bright always openly wore her eagerness to see battle joined, Lance carried herself with a calm restraint that bespoke her capacity for unleashing calculated violence should the need arise.

Though she seemed an exemplar of a pegasus warrior, I saw nothing in her that would show the sort of greatness of which Celestia spoke. All I had e’er heard of her was that she was all but certain to have a seat in the Ephorate once her mother was of an age to retire. Still, ‘twas plain that Celestia had insights into this and many other matters which I did not share. Most likely, no mortal pony could see the world with the totality that Celestia could manage.

Lance flew to her brother’s side and removed her own weapons to pass them into his care. I sought out Sergeant Stalwart to do the same. I had to call his name thrice ere he answered me, for his eyes were much occupied by one of the mares in the hetairoi. Though I could not place her face by memory alone, my sergeant's preoccupation made guessing her identity a simple task: only his own wife could cause him to so utterly forget himself. 

I admit, I was slightly reluctant to part with my wing blades. Sunbeam Sparkle had done fine work on them, and her magic likely made them a superior weapon to my opponent’s lance. However, Sunbeam’s workings had only made the blades all the deadlier, and I could not risk slaying the mare I fought. And while I did not know the full extent of the Commander’s plans for Lance Charger, I suspected that badly maiming her would be detrimental as well. Not to mention that any severe injury carries the risk of death by trauma, infection or other complications.

So we would face one another in juris ungula in the purest sense of the term. No weapons, save our own hooves and strength. Combat would continue until one of us either yielded or was plainly incapable of continuing the contest. ‘Twas only a question of how my strength would compare to the other mare’s. I exceeded her in size, but that came as little surprise, and I would likely have the advantage in reach and raw strength as well. Experience naturally favored the older mare. However, Lance would have the speed and endurance of a mare in her prime, and though I was far from old and slow, I had reached an age where time had just begun to take its toll on my body. Against most opponents, it would be of little consequence; I would still seem as young and vital as I had been at Lance’s age. But against a foe who could truly test my limits, I would be just a hair’s breadth slower and quicker to tire than I had once been, and such differences could decide the battle.

I flew to the center of the dueling circle our observers had formed and met Lance Charger’s eyes. “I have heard from your mother that you defeated Archmagus Copper Spark in battle.” That thought brought to mind the curious thing I had but recently witnessed in my brief clash with the hetairoi. Sunbeam Sparkle had unleashed a fire that should have reduced Lance to a charred ruin on the ground, yet, aside from a few scorch marks on her armor, she emerged unscathed. I was curious for an explanation of it, but if she had shown similar resistance to Copper’s magic ‘twould explain much.

“I did indeed meet him in battle,” Lance confirmed. “He was a valiant opponent and conducted himself with honor. I was glad to learn that his wounds would not prove mortal, despite the chirurgeons’ initial assessment. Though you should thank my sister for the preservation of his life, for I did little to ensure it beyond placing him in her care.”

“Whate’er the case may be, I am glad that he yet lives.” I began to circle my opponent, looking for some weakness I might exploit. “Mayhaps once I have made a prisoner of you, an exchange can be made for his return.” Though in truth I did not think Celestia likely to part with Lance willingly, given her interest in the mare.

“That is possible.” Lance’s own eyes travelled o’er me just as freely, seeking the same vulnerabilities. I sought to betray a few false openings, in the hopes that she might seek them out and render herself vulnerable in the process. “I judge it more likely that you will shortly occupy a cell adjacent to his, though I suspect Commander Rightly would prefer that you were kept more distant from him.” She was briefly silent, and then remarked, “He would yet welcome your return to his side. Your loyalty to Celestia does you credit, but surely you must see the need for liberating our fellow ponies?”

“I think what you would term a liberation would be more akin to a pegasus conquest in the eyes of the earth ponies and unicorns.” I noted that Rightly was yet watching the exchange alongside his hetairoi, and was pleased. Mayhaps he would sacrifice the advantage gained in allowing Lance to take his place by remaining to see the clash. That being the case, I saw no reason to move quickly into battle. “Swift Blade has already been granted dominion o’er the earth ponies. Has your commander decided who he will allow to rule the unicorns?”

“Swift Blade merely advises the earth ponies on coordinating our war effort,” Lance countered. “He is no more a ruler than the gryphon or zebra ambassadors are rulers of Equestria.”

“But he is the pegasus ambassador to a government installed and sustained by pegasus armies. Though he may only advise by the letter of the law, ‘tis plain to see that his suggestions will carry far more weight than they should.” My eyes narrowed. “And the same shall be the case for the unicorns, if you conquer them. ‘Tis a curious thing to see a rebellion that speaks of liberation whilst preparing a yoke for the other pony breeds. I have heard it said you are a mare of honor and integrity. If that be true, then I bid you stand with us.”

To my surprise, Lance was silent for a time in response to my offer. When at last she spoke, ‘twas with careful consideration. “I do not think Celestia the monster some would claim. However, ‘tis plain to see that she is no longer competent to lead Equestria, whate’er her plans and desires for Equestria’s future. If she will not stand down voluntarily, then she must be removed by force of arms. And if you would say that our rebellion will chain earth pony and unicorn to a pegasus yoke, then I would ask whether your own cause will not chain all three breeds to an alicorn one. E’en benevolent slavery is still slavery.”

“Serving one’s Commander is not slavery,” I countered. “And I would prefer a single alicorn ruling eternally to constant discord ‘tween the three pony tribes. Though I have mine own objections to her leadership, I still think it better than creating a world where—”

Dusk Charger surprised me by cutting in, addressing Rightly. “Commander, she is delaying the duel in order to buy time for her forces to ravage our supply train unmolested.” As if to emphasize his point, several of the supply wagons almost directly below us exploded. Likely more of Sunbeam’s work, now that she was once more on the ground. Strange as it seems to say it, I was glad to see her applying her craft to our enemies. Fighting alongside the mare seemed to have allowed her the chance to gain some small measure of my respect.

Rightly’s eyes briefly widened as he realized my intentions, and a faint scowl crossed his lips. “Ah. Well played, Shadow.” He turned to his hetairoi. “Dusk, keep an honor guard to watch your sister’s duel. Your brothers will be a part of it; if any should bear witness to her battle, it is her kin. All others with me, while there is still something left to be saved.”

Rightly and the bulk of his hetairoi took wing, making for the remnants of their supply train. I could only hope that Gale and the others were equal to the task of battling his reduced force. At the least, I had removed some of his better warriors by denying him Bright Charger’s children. Though Rightly was an excellent general and leader of ponies, his personal combat skills were not the things of legend. That is not to say he was a weakling like Swift Blade, for he was a formidable and respected warrior—merely that he was not an avid duelist like Bright, or an experienced solo and small unit combatant like myself. His greatest strength lay in leading an army, not smiting foes with his own four hooves.

Lance, however, was another matter entirely. As the eldest and favored child of the greatest duelist in Pegasopolis, I judged it likely that she had learned much from her mother. That she had o’ercome Copper was testament enough to her skills. However, Lance had ne’er faced me in battle, and I knew much of how Bright Charger fought. ‘Twas difficult to fight public duels without revealing something of how one would go about fighting a duel. 

I suppose I would learn the truth of it soon enough. “Shall we begin, Lance Charger?”

“I believe we shall, Shadow.” Lance readied herself, hovering in the air across from me, her eyes hardening as she began seeking some weakness she might exploit...

I adopted the same position and maneuver, though mine own stance betrayed a small false opening on my left flank that I hoped would draw her in. After several seconds, she took the bait, darting in for a quick strike. Her superior speed and maneuverability caught me unawares, and one of her hooves thudded into my side as the false opening became a true one. However, I was still able to answer her with a strike across her cheek as she passed.

After that exchange, I was wary of baiting her again. Not only did she possess speed enough to exploit the small opening I had only intended to use as bait, but her blow had landed more heavily than I would have expected. Not so much as to cause serious injury, but I suspected that by tomorrow ‘twould have produced a fine bruise. 

From there, the match fell to a more cautious exchange of blows as we both maneuvered for position and tested one another’s capabilities. She sought to find the limits of my reach, while I tried to uncover how quickly she could maneuver in the air. A pity I could not test the limits of her strength after the power of her first blow had caught me unawares, but finding that would require closing with her once more. I was understandably wary of doing that before I had taken her full measure.

Lance seemed unlikely to allow me the chance to do so unharassed. She began a series of darting attacks which let her gauge my reaction time, searching for her opening. She was yet cautious, and each strike was carefully measured to avoid exposing herself to my counters. With some reluctance, I realized that I would have to bait her once more if I had any hope of turning the battle in my favor. Thankfully, I was at least forewarned of the danger this time.

Rather than create an opening she might exploit, I deliberately pulled my blows and slowed my reactions by a small degree. Lance’s darting strikes grew every bolder as she began to formulate her plan of attack. I could only hope that when she struck, what advantage my trickery had granted would allow me to turn it against her.

After a few more probes, Lance struck, trying to take me on my left side. ‘Twas an error I quickly made her pay for, catching her full on the muzzle with a strike that displayed the full extent of my reach and speed. I will not deny a certain sense of satisfaction as I felt cartilage give way under my hoof, and blood spurted down her muzzle.

However, for all the strength of my blow, it did not deter or even greatly slow Lance’s approach. A moment after I struck, she closed the distance and planted her forehooves into my barrel. From there she landed a series of quick jabs into my ribs, while I hastily reoriented myself from her surprising follow-through. Where before her speed had caught me by surprise, now ‘twas her endurance that turned the exchange in her favor. My initial blow ought to have at least stunned her for a moment, yet she took the blow as if it were naught but a stiff breeze.

Now I had a faster mare inside my reach, punishing me for every moment I allowed her to remain there. Given her superior speed and maneuverability, ‘twould be no easy task to force her back once more. And e’en if I could, she had shown far too much skill at closing within my reach. The current flow of the battle was against me, and unless I could find some way to turn the situation in my favor, she would only gain a further advantage as time progressed.

I turned my eyes from Lance for a brief moment, e’en as I felt one of my ribs give way with a wet snap. That she could strike such heavy blows through my armor was a testament to her strength. If mine own flesh and blood could not o’ercome hers, I would need some outside factor to turn the match in my favor. The terms of the duel prevented most of my preferred tactics; a hidden weapon or seeking to evade and reengage under more favorable terms would put me in violation of the terms.

That left the option of using my surroundings to my advantage, but a battle in sky has little in the way of intervening terrain or obstacles. There was nothing in the way of clouds to be found, merely open sky within the impromptu dueling circle. Fortunately, a battle between pegasi is not limited to two dimensions, and there were no dueling terms requiring that we remain airborne.

I briefly attempted to evade Lance, and when she moved to close the gap, once more quickly reversed directions, rushing to meet her and locking my limbs around her. Though she was stronger than one would expect for her size and build, I was still the larger and heavier of the two of us. I stilled my wings, and the addition of my weight to her own threw the younger mare off balance. I tugged and shifted about in the grapple, and for good measure introduced the armored crest of my helmet to her wounded muzzle, denying her any chance to compensate for my added weight as we plummeted to the earth.

My superior size and Lance’s own disorientation allowed me to hold the advantage in our downward grapple. As we neared the earth, I employed mine own wings to angle our descent and arrest our momentum by some small measure. ‘Twould not do for the both of us to strike the ground with such speed that we perished.

Fortunately for Lance, I had aimed our impact for the riverbank. The thick mud there would help cushion our landing, and more importantly, ‘twould deny her the advantage of speed. Nopony can move quickly when belly-deep in mud. ‘Twas also likely she was not as experienced in ground combat as I was, given my time as a mage hunter whilst she had only served in Pegasopolis. 

The riverbank was distant enough from the main battle that we could continue our duel unharassed. The only ponies I noted in the immediate area were those accompanying a cluster of burning supply wagons. The ponies there seemed far too occupied trying to use the waters to extinguish their burning cargo to intervene in the honor duel, especially when my clan and the hetairoi force would be arriving to secure the area quickly enough.

A moment ere we struck the ground I shifted my position so that one of my hooves was positioned over Lance’s diaphragm. When we landed, my body’s descending weight drove my hoof forward into her flesh, driving the air from Lance’s lungs with a loud gasp. Though that was the primary focus of my attack, the rest of my weight drove her deep into the mud, securing my advantage.

Whilst my opponent struggled to catch her wind once more, I quickly shifted my position to pin her more effectively, immersing most of her body in the thick river mud. E’en if she escaped the grapple, she would be hard-pressed to return to the skies whilst her feathers were laden with the riverbank’s contents. This battle would be decided on the ground.

Once my position atop her was secured, I wasted no time raining blows down upon Lance. She raised her forelegs to protect her face, but that simply lessened the impact of my strikes, while also leaving her chest vulnerable. She attempted a few counters of her own, but she was still disoriented from our rough landing, and her position left her at a considerable disadvantage. She simply did not have a good angle to strike from, robbing her counterblows of the strength they might otherwise have carried.

As the pegasi settled about us, recreating the dueling ring once more, I continued to hammer at Lance’s defenses. For all the strength of my current position, I will confess that I felt a great deal of concern at my lack of success. Though the advantage was clearly mine, I had not yet succeeded in using my advantageous position to inflict a telling blow on my opponent. If I could not find some way to wound or weaken her, ‘twas only a matter of time before Lance found some way to escape my hold.

For her part, Lance seemed content for the moment to simply protect her vitals and endure my assault. I could guess her plan well enough: mine own offensive momentum required a significant amount of energy to sustain, while simply defending herself was a lesser effort. So long as she could keep me from landing a telling blow, ‘twould be simple enough to simply remain on defense and hope that I would exhaust myself while achieving no significant gains.

Clearly I could not continue to fruitlessly pound at her, or I would be playing right into her hooves. Fortunately, there were some areas Lance had not thought to protect, mayhaps because her own sense of honor blinded her to the possibility that another pony might strike there. Thus, she was caught completely by surprise when one of my rear hooves stomped her underneath the tail.

Lance let out a cry of agony, and her forelegs dropped from her face as pain and instinct made her briefly forget to mind her defenses. I was quick to take advantage of the opening, landing a quick three-strike combination that set her head to reeling, then finishing by burying her muzzle in the mud. Even the greatest warrior cannot battle if their lungs are denied breath.

To my surprise, Lance did not immediately struggle against my hold. Most ponies’ first instinct upon being denied breath is to immediately seek to regain it—e’en a trained warrior will need a brief span to rein in their instincts and assert rationality. Instead, all I felt from the mare beneath me was a growing tremble. At first I thought it simply her repressing the instinct to uselessly flail and scream, but rather than stilling after a few moments, the trembling only increased.

My answer came a few moments later, when I was knocked off of her. I did not see the blow before it struck; ‘twould seem that my focus on keeping her muzzle buried had blinded me to what her hind legs might do, though I had expected my blow beneath her tail to render them less than fully functional. Though given her previous shows of strength and endurance, I suppose I should not have been surprised that she could e’en endure a strike at the groin.

We both returned to our hooves, though I was pleased to note Lance’s hindquarters did not move as swiftly and fluidly as they had earlier in the battle. ‘Twould seem that despite her escape, she had not entirely resisted the effects of my hidden strike. Lance’s eyes were narrowed in offended fury, and her voice came as a pained growl. “That was not an honorable blow.”

“I have not violated the terms of our duel,” I countered. “‘Twould be unkind to strike you so in a friendly spar in the training yard, but we are on the battlefield, young hetairoi. I will not refrain from striking at an opening simply because ‘twould be painful and unpleasant for an opponent whom I might well be attempting to kill.” I am sure that, were she present, Sunbeam would feel compelled to comment on the absurdity of a code of honor that allowed one to kill one’s enemies, but not cause them pain or discomfort.

Lance scowled at me, and she stretched each of her hind legs in turn. ‘’Twas still a dishonorable blow, even if ‘twas a legal one. I will not leave myself open to such again, and I shall deliver you to my commander with mine own honor intact.”

“Whether you shall be the victor remains to be seen.” We closed once more, Lance now moving at a slower pace I much preferred due to both the mud and the lingering pain within her hindquarters. While I was equally slowed by the mud, my greater height kept more of my body clear, and the reduced speed of our battle strengthened the advantage conferred by my reach.

As she attempted to close with me, I punished her with several jabs. Most were blocked, but one slipped past her guard, drawing fresh blood from her wounded muzzle. E’en the jabs that failed to penetrate Lance’s defenses did at least succeed in my primary goal of holding her at bay, preventing her from closing to within mine own reach and allowing her to strike back at me.

As the duel continued, a new problem made itself known to me. Lance’s earlier blows to my torso had left behind a host of injuries, most notably a rib she had either cracked or mayhaps e’en properly broken. The longer the contest continued, the more that wound made itself felt, until it seemed that each breath I took dug a dagger into my side. My breaths came shorter and faster, and my efforts to hold Lance at bay began to flag. Once more her probing strikes grew bolder, and this time when my responses were slow ‘twas not a plot, but genuine weakness.

That is not to say I was entirely spent. When Lance once again grew too bold with one of her probes, I answered her by hurling a hoofful of mud at her eyes. True to her word, she was ready for the underhoofed trick and guarded her face with a wing. However, her wing in front of her face proved just as effective a barrier to sight as my mud would have, and I shifted positions as quickly as I could during the brief opening my ploy created.

Lance was taken by surprise as my forelegs locked around her neck. However, before I could properly set the choke hold, she briefly leapt up into the air, connected to the ground only through my hold on her neck, then returned to earth and with a single mighty heave she hurled me bodily o’er herself. The move allowed me to close her windpipe, but a few seconds without air was no great trial to a prepared warrior, and a minor inconvenience compared to what I had hoped to cost her. 

As Lance threw me to the earth, I felt another sharp dagger of pain in my side as my back struck the mud. I rolled to my hooves as quickly as I could to avoid remaining vulnerable on the ground, but the movement put weight on my wounded side, which I did not enjoy in the slightest. Thankfully, Lance’s sense of honor prompted her to allow me to rise to my hooves unmolested.

Despite that small kindness, my situation was most unenviable. The battle had begun to take a toll on me, while aside from the blood dotting Lance’s muzzle, she seemed entirely unconcerned by her own battle wounds. Given that I judged I had landed more blows than she, that struck me as most unfair. I had ne’er judged myself as old enough to have lost my edge before, but now I found myself facing a younger mare who seemed in almost every aspect my physical superior. Faster, stronger, and displaying superior endurance and agility.

I found myself faced with the grim realization that I might very well lose this battle, and be doomed to watch what remained of the war from within a rebel prison cell. ‘Twas a grim prospect indeed, especially if my capture cost Celestia the loyalty of my clan. Were that the case, the heaping of this defeat alongside all the others might well undo the loyalist cause.

Neigh. I could not allow that to come to pass. Whate’er my disadvantages, I would have to find a path to victory, or at the very least force the match to a draw that would allow both parties a chance to withdraw with honor intact. The only difficulty I faced rested in uncovering that particular solution.

The best tactic I could conceive was the first one I had tried and failed to implement: drawing Lance in with the appearance of weakness. No doubt she could see the signs of my strength waning, and might seek to close and finish the matter. Further, she had already won an initial victory when I attempted to feign weakness, and would likely be wary for any trickery. Still, the maneuver could at least buy me some chance, however slim, of victory. That is often the way of things in war; seizing upon the best hope for victory, no matter how desperate and pursuing that hope ‘till the battle’s end.

Ere I could put that plan into action, I was derailed by a most unexpected problem: a Pegasopolan throwing dart took me in the back. As my focus had been entirely upon the opponent, I was entirely unprepared for the treacherous attack, to the point where my first warning was the iron weapon biting into the flesh of my right hind leg.

Thankfully, it did not strike anywhere that would truly cripple me. However, the impact of the dart was still sufficient to knock me from my hooves, and my first effort at rising was quickly halted by the pain radiating from my latest wound. Lance could not fail to see the back end of the dart protruding from my armor, and though I could not see the look on her face, the displeasure was plain enough in her voice. “Who threw the dart? Who would dare to break the sanctity of my duel?”

Nopony stepped forward and admitted their guilt. Once ‘twas plain that would not happen, Lance let out a frustrated growl. “So be it, then. I will not continue our duel after this dishonor. Juris ungula is ended.”

The instant after Lance made her declaration, Stalwart was at my side with a medicae, the two working to carefully remove the spike and bind the wound. Despite the pain, I noted that the members of the hetairoi had not dispersed, but instead watched us with keen interest. I also noted that there were far more pegasi than had been present in the detachment Rightly had left behind, and almost all of the new arrivals bore rebel colors. ‘Twould seem that we had attracted an audience and fallen behind enemy lines o’er the course of our engagement. Troubling.

Once the spike was removed, Dusk Charger stepped forward and claimed it from my sergeant. He gave the weapon a cursory inspection, then let out a frustrated grunt. “Nothing to identify the owner, though ‘twas a thin hope. Most ponies do not carve their name into each of their throwing spikes, especially not when those weapons are to be used for treachery. Pity, for that stupidity on the attacker’s part would have made the investigation quick and simple.”

Lance answered him with a short nod. “‘Twould seem the question will go unanswered, then. Save one possibility.” Lance turned to me with a piercing gaze. “Though I do not intend to accuse you with the question, prudence demands that I ask whether you ordered your subordinates, directly or indirectly, to violate the terms of the duel under any circumstances.”

I met her eyes without hesitation. “I gave no such order, and if ‘tis revealed to me that one of mine own took such an action they will be appropriately punished. You have my word of honor on that.”

Lance studied me briefly, then offered a single nod. “So be it, then. Though I mislike this outcome, your word will suffice. I grant you safe passage from the battlefield.”

One of Lance’s younger brothers—one of the twins, though I did not know them well enough to distinguish ‘tween the two—objected to her ruling. “Sister, is it not obvious that she lies? Why would one of our own break a duel you were in the process of winning? You were moments away from a legitimate victory! Honor does not require that we blind ourselves to her actions and allow her to slip away from us.” Many within the assembled crowd of rebels grunted and growled in agreement with the young Charger.

Mine own clan tensed and readied their weapons at the accusation. We would not let the enemy make a prisoner of me after a broken duel, especially as most of my clanmates likely judged the rebels as the likelier source of the betrayal. Though I had faith in my clan’s strength, I was concerned as to the likely outcome of such a battle. Stalwart and my clanmates were formidable warriors, but the rebels forces had five ponies to every one of ours, and by tradition the hetairoi included many of the greatest warriors in Pegasopolis. Lance’s own combat prowess had proved most worrying, and she seemed wholly capable of continuing to fight, while I would be hobbled by my wounds.

Thus, I felt no small amount of relief when Lance spared an irritated glower for her own forces. “Stand down.” Her hetairoi stepped back and lowered their weapons, but her brothers remained in place. “I will grant that I seemed to hold the advantage when the duel was broken,” Lance allowed, making no move to stop my clanmates from helping me to my hooves. “However, Shadow showed a talent for cunning and trickery, and battle is e’er uncertain. Surely thou dost recall the tale of how Mother earned the title of dragonslayer in her battle ‘gainst Corrodius the Blightbringer—how she feigned weakness and remained on the defensive until the moment she saw her chance and claimed her victory?”

Dusk stepped before his twin brothers, wearing a faint frown. “Be that as it may, sister, her own forces would have far more to gain from breaking the duel than we would.” He turned to me and offered a faint nod. “Though mine own time as a guest ‘mongst her clan disinclines me to think that she would allow such a thing.”

Lance acknowledged her brother’s point with a nod. “‘Tis so, but simply because ‘tis more logical for one of Shadow’s own to break the duel does not mean things must have proceeded in that way. Ponies have been known to take unwise and e’en foolish acts in the heat of battle.” Her eyes turned to her brother, and a faint smile quirked her lips. “I am sure you could tell me of such actions, brother. Whate’er the case may be, we have no proof that she violated the terms of our duel, and the solemn word of a former ephor of Pegasopolis still has weight with both myself and our commander. E’en if ‘twas one of her subordinates acting independently, I will not make a prisoner of a mare for actions taken without her knowledge or consent.”

Dusk gave a resigned sigh, and nodded to his sister. “So be it, then. Though the commander will be saddened that you did not succeed in returning Shadow to our camp, however unwillingly.” He turned to me and offered a faintly mocking half-salute. “Milady, do give my regards to your daughter. Once this current unpleasant business is concluded, I would be more than happy to call upon her once again. I hope you will forgive me, but I think it unwise to attempt to pay court to her while she would be fully within her rights to kill me where I stand.”

“That is a considerably wise decision,” I agreed.

Lance also turned to me, offering a slight nod. “Despite certain unpleasant blows to areas I would prefer had gone unwounded, ‘twas a fine match. I am saddened that we were denied a chance to make a proper end of it. I was curious to see if I could defeat your last gambits.”

“‘Twould have been interesting to see,” I agreed. “Though in honesty, I think it likely. You were the stronger of us for most of the battle’s course.”

“So it seemed,” Lance allowed with a respectful nod. “However, you held the initiative for most of our clash. Battles are often ended with a single decisive blow, and you showed more talent than I in bringing opportunities for such about.”

“A talent equal to your own skill at spoiling my opportunities,” I countered.

Dusk interrupted our conversation by loudly clearing his throat. “With all due respect, if the two of you are quite done complimenting one another’s skill in your recent attempt to beat each other into submission, there is a battle yet to be fought, and other concerns of greater import.”

I noticed that Stalwart had left my side, and followed Dusk’s gaze to find him in hushed conversation with his wife, distant from both our forces. The grim reminder of the cost of civil war killed any feeling of camaraderie I might have had. For a brief moment, in speaking with Dusk, I had almost forgotten that this was a war of life and death, not a simple honor duel or a friendly spar.

Lance also took note of the scene before us, her eyes lingering on the couple for a long moment ere she turned to me. “I can offer him a day’s safe passage in our camp. Time enough to say farewell to his wife and see his daughter.” Her gaze turned to the burned remnants of the rebel supply train. “The rest of you may have passage back to your own lines. ‘Twould hardly be proper to allow our forces to o’erwhelm you simply because the battlefield shifted o’er the course of our duel.”

So Stalwart would be a hostage to ensure we withdrew without incident, then. As such matters go, ‘twas a generous offer. I could only hope that the rebels did not become convinced that one of my loyalists had broken the sanctity of the dueling ring during his time in their camp, else he would likely suffer for it. ‘Twas all but certain that Sierra and Cyclone would both attempt to induce him to join the rebel cause, but I had faith in his loyalty.

Hopefully no evil would come of Stalwart’s brief captivity and the sergeant would merely have an opportunity to see his wife and, with any luck, his child as well ere war tore them asunder once more. (2). Enough families had already been destroyed by this conflict; ‘twould be good to see father and daughter reunited, e’en if only once. For a brief moment, I envied young Astra Kicker-Doo—she, at least, still had a father despite the tragedy of civil war.

2: While Stalwart’s daughter was far too young to be anywhere near the battlefield, the rebels were bringing Cloudsdale along with their army. While Shadow isn’t clear on its exact distance from Canterlot during the Battle of Avalon Vale, one can presume from this statement that it was within viable flying distance.

In any case, I was hardly in a position to refuse an offer of safe passage when I was behind enemy lines and badly outnumbered. “Assuming the sergeant has no objection, I accept your terms.”

Stalwart briefly turned from his wife to face me. “I have no objection, milady Shadow.”

“Well and good, then.” Lance nodded, and a few of her hetairoi fell into place around us as an escort. “Hopefully, we might meet again on the field, Shadow. I mislike unfinished business, and would have a proper conclusion to the matter.” Her voice dropped, and she added, “If there should be another interruption when next we meet in battle, I do not think I am likely to call a halt unless ‘tis plainly evident that mine own forces are in the wrong. And I will guard myself more carefully against certain undeniably effective but ethically questionable attacks.”

“I would expect nothing less.” I offered a tight smile. “If we should meet in battle again, I shall hope that I will have fresh ploys to spring upon you.”

“No doubt,” Lance answered dryly. “Fare you well then, servant of Celestia.”

“You as well, rebel.”





Upon my return to our own lines, the battle was already waning. Darkness had begun to fall, and neither army was inclined to continue the battle into the night. ‘Tween encountering stiffer resistance than expected from our main force, a clever feigned withdrawal by Greenwall, and the disruption caused by mine own strike at their rear, the rebels opted to allow our army a clean withdrawal. The battle had taken a heavy toll on our forces—a few weeks of training for unicorns and earth ponies could not hope to equal the lifetime of preparation a warrior of Pegasopolis enjoyed. Still, despite the heavy losses, the front line had held.

We had established a temporary camp at the mountain’s base, though ‘twould only be used to spend the evening recovering from the battle ere we returned to Canterlot proper. Most importantly, ‘twas within the city’s shield. The battle had produced many wounded, myself among them, and conveying them all the way to Canterlot itself was simply impractical. 

For mine own part, Lance had left me with a damaged rib and more bruises than I cared to count, and the leg that had taken a throwing spike from my unknown assailant was incapable of serving as a leg ought to. None of the wounds were critical, but all required proper treatment. ‘Twould be most ignominious if I survived the battle, only to die a week later from an infected wound or bone fragments damaging my lungs.

I was not inclined to demand immediate treatment, though. As was always the case after a major battle, the chirurgeons were most occupied preserving the lives of all they could. I would not take them from that vital work when mine own injuries were less severe, but I certainly had no desire to needlessly suffer either. I nearly instructed Stalwart to find a junior chirurgeon who could spare the time to see to me, ere I recalled his absence.

As I awaited treatment, it occurred that we likely held some advantage o’er the enemy in the treatment of our wounded. While the chirurgeons of Pegasopolis and earth pony healers were masters of their craft, the precision control of unicorn telekinesis granted them a natural advantage in that field, e’en before one considered more advanced healing spells. Unless the rebels had taken any chirurgeons from Polaris’ army, their medicine would largely be of a mundane sort. (3)

3: As Shadow guessed, there were in fact a small number of unicorn doctors in the rebel camp due to the battle against Polaris. Most of Polaris’ medics were far enough from the fighting to survive, and most of the captured doctors agreed to treat the rebels. It’s common practice for any captured medic to treat their captors, whether out of a sense of medical obligation or because of the simple pragmatic fact that a trained doctor is far more valuable than a prisoner. One famous example, Fresh Binding, wound up being the one of the very few ponies to win medals from both sides in the war on account of being captured by the rebels and later reclaimed by the loyalists.

When treatment for my wounds arrived, however, ‘twas not in the form of a chirurgeon. Sunbeam Sparkle strode into my tent, seeming none the worse for the wear despite the battle. Her mane, which when I had last seen her had suffered heavily from her own flames, seemed to have been restored through magic. Though ‘twas hard to be certain of that, given that her robes, mane and coat both were covered in a thin layer of soot—no doubt a legacy of her efforts in the battle. Her eyes turned to my clanmates, and she addressed them with haughty disdain. “Clear the room. I would have words with Shadow whilst I attend her wounds.”

I briefly considered ordering my clanmates to remain, partly to spite her, and partly because I misliked the notion of being alone in a room with her whilst wounded. However, the promise of treatment for my wounds and mine own weariness after the battle won out o’er such impulses, and I waved for my subordinates to leave us.

Once the room was clear, Sunbeam’s shoulders slumped, and her mane returned to the charred and ragged state I recalled having seen it in, the soot covering her thickened and seemed far less artfully applied, and her robes and armor showed far more battle damage than had previously been evident. “My thanks, Shadow. The day has been long enough without having to maintain a glamour while I tend to you.”

I suppose I should have expected that illusion-work from her. A creature of Sunbeam’s pride would not lightly reveal her current state. I suspect that were she capable of it, she would have maintained the illusion e’en with only myself in the room.

She plodded towards me, her eyes clinically scanning over my body. “Well, do not make me find every single injury by myself.” She let out a soft snort. “And you are quite welcome for the aid, no thanks are necessary.”

A blind pony would have seen the hidden barb in those last words. “My thanks for your aid in treating my wounds, Archmagus.” Whate’er else she might be, I did appreciate the effort she made in treating me personally. ‘Tis only polite to thank one’s medicae.

“We both know you do not mean it,” Sunbeam growled, “so spare me the hollow pleasantries. I have had a very long and very trying day, but given how exceedingly fond of you Her Majesty is, I cannot leave your wounds untreated. Pray spare me from any of your usual histrionics about what a foul and evil mare I am for ensuring that you do not die from an infection.”

Given her obvious foul mood, I prudently opted for silence, beyond answering her inquiries. ‘Twould not do to provoke my chirurgeon while she tended my wounds. “Aside from the bruising, I have a piercing wound to my right rear leg, and I suspect at least one cracked or broken rib.”

“Wonderful.” From the growl in her voice, one would think I had sustained all those injuries with the specific intention of making her life more troublesome. “The rib will have to wait for a proper chirurgeon to see to it. The last time I attempted to heal injury to a bone, I was ultimately forced to cut it out and regrow it entirely. And that was a far less vital bone than a rib.” Her gaze briefly lingered on my leg. “The rest, I can attend to well enough. To spare myself your complaints, I will forewarn you that my healing has ne’er been gentle.”

Moments later her horn lit, and I felt as if she had set a fire in my flesh. Like Sunbeam, I had mine own pride to attend, and despite the considerable pain, I clenched my teeth and refused to give voice to my agony. If nothing else, I would not give Sunbeam the pleasure of hearing me cry out in pain. It passed soon enough, and I found that with the exception of sharp pain within my side, my injuries had faded to a dull ache, like one would feel after a long day’s exertions.

I dropped a hoof to my wounded leg, and found the wound scabbed over. When I tested my leg’s movement ‘twas still sore and weak, but not so much of either that ‘twould fail to serve if called upon. I did not give the mare a chance to make another sour comment. “Your healing is most effective, Archmagus. My thanks for it.”

That earned a mocking snort from her. “Ah, so you can be taught basic manners.”

Any inclination I might have had to indulge her foul mood was rapidly fading in the face of her barbs. “If you cannot keep a civil tongue, pray depart and leave me in peace. Your healing is appreciated, but I have done nothing to earn your hostility on this day.”

Sunbeam’s mouth opened to deliver some fresh insult, but ere the words left her mouth she paused, and a faint frown crossed her face. Then she did something I never would have expected of her. “You are correct. My apologies; as I said, it has been a long and trying day.”

I resisted the urge to return her remark about teaching a pony civility, though with some difficulty. ‘Twould be rather foolish to insult her moments after making peace. A seemingly genuine apology was an unexpected and most welcome concession, so I opted to be the better mare. “Think nothing of it, Archmagus. As you said, battle is trying. ‘Tis only natural that nerves will be frayed and tempers short after such an event.”

“My thanks for your understanding.” She sighed and ran a hoof o’er her face. “Lance Charger has proven to be a considerable problem for the both of us. I suppose I should save you the trouble of a long and bothersome investigation when we have troubles enough as it stands.” She reached into her tattered robes, and produced something I recognized quite well: a Pegasopolan throwing dart.

From there ‘twas simple enough to grasp what had passed. “‘Twas you who broke the duel, then.” My eyes fell to my leg, and the wound she had left behind. “Is that the reason you would come to heal my wounds, then? Tell me, was it a guilty conscience that compelled you to seek me out, or did you merely hope to conceal the evidence of your crimes?”

Sunbeam rolled her eyes in response to my accusation. “If I was hoping to conceal my actions, I hardly would have confessed them, now would I? Beside which, I am sure you have intelligence enough to grasp precisely why I acted as I did. Curious as it seems, the hole I put through your leg likely saved your life, or at the very least your dignity. How many ponies can claim such a thing?”

I was in no mood to hear her praise herself for all but literally stabbing me in the back, and breaking the sanctity of a duel as well. “If you expect to be thanked for it, you have misjudged me.”

“Spare me your self-righteous indignation.” Sunbeam turned to me, reclaiming the dart while she ran a hoof along her neck. “You were unlikely to end the duel as the victor, and we both know the war effort cannot afford to lose you at this juncture. What I did was necessary, and for all your talk of honor, you know it. If your selfish guilt o’er the duel’s breaking is so great, then by all means go to the rebel and turn yourself in. I am sure you will enjoy the rebel’s tender mercies. Let all Equestria burn, so that you might at least be able to sit within a prison cell, basking in the glow of your own honor as all we have worked for crumbles to ash.”

To my displeasure, I could offer no answer to her. Had I not hoped, as the duel reached its lowest point, that some outside force might break it? Sunbeam had provided the very deliverance I had sought, yet I would condemn her for it. In truth, she had served much the same function that she often did for Celestia: to take those foul but sometimes unfortunately necessary actions that her more honorable peers could not.

There was a curious sort of honor in that. To take actions that would blacken her name and reputation, but ultimately serve the cause of making a better Equestria. ‘Twas a strange thing to think upon, but in this case her wickedness served Equestria far better than my decency would have. I could only hope that no further evils would be born of it—though ‘twas undeniable that she had solved the immediate crisis, often the greatest consequences of dishonorable actions lie in the future.

Sunbeam, however, did not seem the least bit concerned by the possibility. Instead, she turned to me with a smile that radiated self-satisfied pride. “Your silence is answer enough regarding the rightness of my actions. I had hoped for a proper display of gratitude from you, though I am not so vain that I feel I need to be complimented for every good deed I do.”

It seemed she was quite content to congratulate herself whate’er I said, though I suspected that some of her attitude might be less a matter of genuine pride than a provocation. Crossguard had warned me that she was prone to acting so. Likely she was attempting to draw me into yet another argument; one which I had little inclination to indulge her in. That suspicion was confirmed when she stepped nearer to me, and her voice dropped to a low whisper. “Though if you will not show gratitude through words, there are always other means by which you might express yourself. I have heard it said that in the aftermath of battle soldiers will often seek the pleasures of the bedchamber as a celebration of their survival.”

Rather than rise to her bait, I responded in kind. “Curious to see you in such a light mood, so soon after wounding me. One might almost suspect you rather enjoyed it.”

Sunbeam let out a low chuckle and took a place at my side. “You are merely having trouble admitting that I am right. It is a common affliction, one e’en Her Majesty suffers from at times. However, you cannot deny that all your objectives were achieved, and in no small part due to my actions.” She shifted a small measure nearer, her side briefly brushing my own. “Surely such good service deserves a proper reward, neigh?”

“Your point is fairly made. An evening’s pleasure is a fair reward for all that you have done.” I leaned close to her, suppressing a smile as I noted the growing smirk on her face. “Once our business here is concluded I shall suggest as much to Crossguard. I am sure we can spare a few kegs of cider for our forces, after all that they have done on this day. Though alas, the magi will not be able to participate in the festivities, given the prohibition against drunkenness.” (4)

4: There were very strict laws about magi, or magically powerful unicorns in general, drinking heavily or using other mind-altering substances. I shudder to think of how much unintentional chaos Princess Twilight might cause if she got plastered. She’s dangerous enough when she just gets a little worked up.

“Ah, so you would celebrate while deliberately excluding me from proceedings?” A teasing frown crossed her face. “How utterly cruel. Do not be so unkind to one of your most valued allies. Think how the soldiers would react, upon learning that the magi who safeguarded them would be excluded.”

“I am sure thy—your absence will only serve to heighten the joyous mood,” I countered dryly.

“And ponies say that I am heartless.” She poked me in the shoulder, a coy grin on her face. “And did I hear a 'thy' from thy lips? Have I grown so dear to thy heart as to allow such casual discourse? If so I welcome it, and all that will follow.”

“Do not flatter thyself.” I turned from her, a smirk gracing mine own lips. “I did not address thee so as an endearment, but because my respect for thee has fallen e’en further. I did not think such a thing was e’en possible after all that has passed between us, yet somehow it has occurred.”

Sunbeam crossed her forelegs o’er her chest like a pouting filly. “Alas, I am so underappreciated. And after doing so marvelously at my task of incinerating the rebels' supplies too...”

“Oh, aye.” I nudged her shoulder with my own. “If not for thy presence, I might have been forced to rely 'pon a burning stick of wood instead. Truly, thou art irreplaceable.”

Sunbeam let forth an annoyed huff, sticking her nose into the air as if she had smelt something particularly offensive. “I knew thou didst not properly value my contributions, but I did not think thou wouldst propose that I could be so easily replaced by burning bundles of sticks! Thou dost realize that thanks to me the rebels will be forced to withdraw for a time.”

“I am sure the tens of thousands of ponies in the rest of our army had no role in driving the rebels back.” I put a hoof under my chin, considering the matter. “Still, it may be that there is merit to thy point. Unlike thee, a bundle of sticks would accept its limited role with grace and dignity, nor would it constantly make inappropriate and unwanted advances ‘pon me.”

“Ah, but mere wood cannot offer witty repartee,” Sunbeam offered in her own defense. “The very conversation we now enjoy would be impossible were I replaced. Trees have ne’er been known as great orators.”

“That much is true,” I allowed. “So be it, then. You have some small use to our army, and I will not advise the Commander to replace thee.”

“My relief is so great that I cannot put words to it,” Sunbeam announced dryly. “We must speak more often, then, so that my one unique contribution to the war effort will continue to be of value.”

My answer took me by surprise. “I look forward to it.” (5)

5: This shift in the dynamic between Shadow and Sunbeam does seem rather sudden, but I suspect a good deal of it is due to the fact that they fought in battle together. Shadow hinted at as much in the previous chapter, where she did not object to some of the magi joining her clan’s pre-battle rituals. It’s a fairly common phenomenon in the military: once you go to battle alongside somepony, it creates a kind of bond. It doesn’t mean you’re suddenly best friends, or even like each other, but being comrades-in-arms does make a connection. For a pony raised by a warrior society like Shadow, that connection was probably even stronger.

Sunbeam greeted that news with a small but genuine smile. One that I answered in kind. There was a brief but companionable silence ‘tween us, and when she broke it there was no more jesting within her voice. “A bundle of sticks would not have saved thee from thine own foolish plan.”

My pride could not accept that without some comment. “I was not yet wholly beaten.”

“Ah, so thou wert on the verge of clinching victory from the jaws of defeat with a broken rib, gasping for breath, and covered in mud, all while facing a mare who thou art half again as old as?” Sunbeam slowly shook her head. “Either thy tactics are of such utter brilliance that they completely elude me, or thou wert at a considerable disadvantage.”

Damn her and her facts. “Victories have been won in worse circumstances.”

“Defeats have been suffered under better,” she immediately countered. The smile slipped from her face a moment later, and she slowly shook her head. “And the situation was e’en worse than thou knowest.” I felt the familiar distortion of a privacy spell settling around us. “I believe I know why Her Majesty has placed such high value on Lance Charger’s life, and if ‘tis true then I strongly advise thee not to meet her in battle under any circumstances.

“As I am sure you recall, during the battle I attempted to spellcast ‘pon Lance Charger.” I thought back to the extremely lethal firebolt Sunbeam had unleashed on the mare, and a faint scowl crossed my lips. Sunbeam took note of my expression and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Her Majesty did instruct me to spare Lance’s life. She would have survived my spell e’en if it had struck for full effect. She would not have enjoyed it, but she would have survived. Though ‘tis a moot point, regardless. I am sure you recall that my spell had almost no effect on the mare?”

“I do.” At the time it had seemed curious, though I had been far too busy with the rest of the battle to give the matter much thought. “From thy words, I take it there was more to her endurance than a few plates of cold iron added to her armor?”

“Far more.” All traces of mirth left her. “If ‘twere that, she still would have been badly burned in every place her armor could not cover. Instead, she was unscathed. The reason for it is quite simple. Somepony actively countered my spell as it was cast.”

“Art thou certain of that?” Though an archmagus ought to know such things, I could not see how her claim could have come to pass. “There were no unicorns present at the clash, other than thee. Unicorns who have skill enough to counter thy spells are few and far between, and none are known to be in the rebel ranks. E’en if the rebels had such a unicorn, they would not be able to counter thee whilst remaining distant enough from the clash as to go unnoticed by us.”

“All true points,” she readily agreed. “Which is why I have come to another conclusion. Logic would dictate that if no unicorn could have countered my spell, then there are two other possibilities. Either some force of sufficient power to hide itself while defeating my magic has aligned itself with the rebel cause, or a pegasus countered my spell.”

“And a pegasus cannot use magic as unicorns do.” I frowned, turning the thought in my head. “However, I cannot imagine Rightly would align himself with one of the ancient evils, or know how to break the bindings Celestia has placed upon them.”

“Precisely.” Sunbeam turned a troubled gaze upon me. “A question for thee, Shadow. In the course of thy battle with her, didst thou note that Lance’s physical capabilities seemed beyond the norm, e’en for a mare of obvious prowess? That her strength and endurance would do credit to an earth pony?” The frown she wore deepened. “And didst thou e’er take a blow from her, which thou couldst not say with certainty came from her hooves?”

“She was very fast, strong, and tough,” I conceded, “Moreso than I would have expected of her. I find nothing o’erly shocking in that, though. Bright Charger is the best warrior Pegasopolis has; ‘tis no surprise that her daughter is similarly a paragon of physical might.”

I thought back to the blow Lance had struck me, after I had hit beneath her tail. At the time I had thought it odd, but presumed she had simply managed a clever maneuver I had missed. However, now that the question was asked... “I cannot say with certainty on thy second question. There is a blow I cannot account for, but battle is quick and chaotic, and a grapple doubly so.”

“How very interesting.” Sunbeam tapped a hoof against her chin. “Let us consider the facts, then. We have a mare who, when facing hostile magic, has the spells countered ere they strike. Her opponents note speed and endurance beyond that of an ordinary pegasus, and are struck by blows that cannot be accounted for by hoof or wing. And the only alicorn in all Equestria has shown a keen interest in this mare, far beyond what one would expect, to the point of making her survival a vital war objective. Tell me, what conclusion do all these facts suggest?”

I thought back to mine own discussion of Lance Charger with Celestia. How she had spoken of Lance’s potential, and the destiny that lay before her. Mad though it seemed, I could conjure only one answer that matched the presented facts. “Art thou claiming that Lance Charger is somehow in the process of transforming into an alicorn?”

“That is the only conclusion I can see that is consistent with all of the facts before us,” Sunbeam agreed, her face grim. “I trust thou canst grasp the severity of our peril, if this be the case. Despite the small victory we have won this day, our situation remains dire. If the rebels somehow gain an alicorn...” Sunbeam trailed off, and shook her head. “I noted thy displeasure, at the thought that my spell might have slain Lance Charger. I assure thee, if our fears are true, by the war’s end all Equestria will wish I had slain her ere she achieved her full potential.”