Monarch

by Mickey Dubs

Chapter Six: The Great Work Begins

"Clover the what?!"
Dawn had come effortlessly—nearly a blink of an eye between the reigns of the sun and moon—but still her sleep had been hard-fought. Finding the energy to chew her breakfast was an ordeal in itself. Still, Twilight found some reason to be excited in watching Compass Rose. His question hinted at the presence of a hidden reserve of curious energy that she couldn't help but absorb. Summer, too, seemed invigorated, though her injuries still dominated most of her attention. She sat now just out of reach, eating her breakfast in the spaces between pained breaths. Twilight caught her eyes, then gestured towards Compass Rose. "Think you can fill him in?"
Summer swallowed her oatmeal, winced, and gripped her chest. A taut smile found her pushing through the pain. "She was an aide to the first princess of Equestria, Princess Platinum, as well as being the pony responsible for Hearth’s Warming Eve. Well, her and a few others. That’s close... right, Twilight?"
"That's the gist of it," Twilight replied, swelling up with pride. “But she's so much more than just that. She was second only to Star-Swirl the Bearded in terms of contributions to our understanding of magic! I got to play her in the Canterlot Hearth's Warming Eve Pageant! I read everything I could about her in preparation for it, but to actually be in her horseshoes? It was unlike anything I've ever experienced!"
Compass Rose perked his ears. "How can you be sure it was her, ma’am? You saw her in a dream, right? Shouldn't that be a red flag?"
"Not a dream," Summer interjected. "A memory, and if Princess Twilight says it was her, it's her!"
Twilight grimaced. "He's right: we can't jump to conclusions. The evidence is heavily in her favor—her proximity to Princess Platinum, their relationship, her handle on advanced magic—but that doesn't necessarily mean it's her. I saw it through her eyes, felt it as she had... but I can't be sure. I’ll be trying again tonight to see if I can learn more.”
Summer’s ears perked; Twilight hadn’t been the only one who’d heard that hesitant tremor in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Those markings, the words I wrote on the ground... They have nothing to do with the memory! They’re gibberish, just like everything else. They’re not the spell.”
“What the hell are they then?” Compass Rose shot Summer a glare, but she was resolute in her opinion. “Don’t you give me that look, Rosy! You’re not the one who jumped out of their skin dodging statue shrapnel!” He rolled his eyes. Summer looked to Twilight with a frown. “What do you believe they are, ma’am?”
“I don’t know... residue, maybe? You can’t write a spell down without getting a little ink on your hooves. Things are always left behind. Unless there’s something in those scribbles that can be reverse-engineered to give us a clue, they’re just a symptom to an unknown problem.”
“I didn’t know we had a problem. You did it just fine last night, right? Why not just recite the poem again?”
“Incantation,” Twilight corrected, “and it’s not that simple.”
Summer tenderly repositioned her wing. “Magic’s not exactly high on the ‘Pegasi List of Things to Know’. Mind giving me a crash course?”
Twilight pushed her bowl away and sat up straight. It felt so much like something Celestia would’ve done that she couldn’t help but feel encouraged. “Imagine building a castle. You have all the requirements: cut stones, wooden scaffolding, mortar, nails... but no blueprints. You can try and build the castle with the knowledge of what you want it to look like, but without a firm foundation the castle—or spell—will be horribly shaky. Sorcerers more powerful than I have been crushed in the weight of spells-gone-awry, and some of them had everything they needed to succeed. If one is smart enough, they can build the blueprints based on their knowledge of magical theory. But if this truly is Clover the Clever we’re dealing with, then we need to be careful. She practically wrote the book on the subject.”
Summer bit her lip. “So if that memory was the castle, the finished product, and the incantation was the blueprint to make it, then we just need the materials.”
“Which are currently gibberish, and without those there is no castle.”
Summer nodded, pursed her lips, and shrugged. “So we’re basically screwed.” Compass Rose’s jaw fell as he wheeled on her, but Twilight raised her hoof to stop him. Summer bowed her head with a little cough. “Sorry, ma’am...”
“You’re forgiven,” Twilight said, sharing a tiny smile with her. “And if you’re the pessimist I get the feeling you aren’t, then that’s one way to look at it. Another way to think of it is as an opportunity to learn more about one of the greatest minds that ever was!”
Compass Rose looked over, his eyes downcast. “If I might interject, ma’am... How does knowing about her contribute at all to finding Princess Luna? How will this help us know our enemy, as you said we should?”
Luna’s name reverberated in her mind like a distant warning bell tolling clearly over the northern horizon. The mere thought of her was more tangible than Clover’s memories, but wreathed in a pain beyond comprehension, an aching of the heart that no fantasy of Clover could fill. Her rescue was paramount, but to find her was to invite a horror into a world paralyzed by the mere suggestion of its name. That was more than her weary mind could take, but it was one step that needed to be taken. She took a calming breath. One step at a time, Twilight...
“That spell wasn’t the only thing we found,” she finally said. “We’ve got Star-Swirl’s textbook, a history of an old kingdom, journals, scrolls, that diary... Documents hidden away. Documents worth hiding. The more we learn, the more likely we’ll find a clue as to Luna’s whereabouts. If we give up now, we’ll never know.” He blinked, let his head fall, then placed his final cleaned dish in the pile along with all the others. He’s still soft, Twilight thought. He doesn’t need any more discouragement. “We’ve got everything we need,” she said happily, shooting him a smile. “And thanks to you and those books you brought, we have a whole lot more to keep us moving. We’ll find her, Rosy. I promise.”
A little flicker of a grin crossed his lips. “Of course, ma’am.”
Summer watched him replace his bowls and cinch down the ropes binding the wagon’s load, then joined him in preparing for their departure. Twilight watched them, noticing a certain urgency in their actions. Turning, she found the source: the arrival of Vanguard and his shackled guest. He lumbered towards where Twilight stood, his magic holding the chains of Penumbra’s collar tight. Twilight ignored Summer's furious growl and bowed her head, trying her hardest to remain civil before her prisoner. “Good morning, colonel. I trust you slept well?”
“No, Your Highness,” he snapped, giving another tug on his chain. Penumbra obeyed, but not without mumbling her claim to his disembodied head. “I was occupied with your ‘guest’. Soon, I’ll be occupied with flogging the private who abandoned his watch over her."
From the corner of her eye, Compass Rose hid himself from view behind the wagon. Twilight moved between them. “You will not punish him for my actions. It was I who unbuckled her chains, not him.”
“It was he who permitted it to happen, despite my strict orders that you should be kept at a safe distance. It was his duty to keep you safe, and he failed.” He dropped his voice, and with it: any shred of levity. “We’ve discussed what will come of failures, Your Highness...”
“But the failure is mine, not his. I sent him to find Summer, colonel, because I was worried that he—no, she!—hadn’t arrived from her patrol. If I hadn’t done that, he’d have been there to prevent Penumbra from attacking me. It’s as simple as that.”
“Quite the opposite, ma’am. He had orders, and he disobeyed! Any soldier who disobeys a command from a superior officer is sentenced—”
“I'm his superior officer,” Twilight barked. “Just as I am yours. You'd be wise not to question me on that.”
After a moment of tense silence, he tossed Penumbra’s chain to Summer and stepped between Twilight and the others. He gestured with his eyes away from the wagon. It wasn’t a request. Before the terrified little princess within could acknowledge what was happening, Twilight was what felt like miles away from the wagon, trapped in Vanguard's shadow. He dropped his voice to a whisper. Not even Penumbra had ever sounded so vicious. “I demand an explanation, Your Highness.”
“I would ask the same in regards to your tone, colonel.”
His anger subsided with all the haste of a glacial melt, but eventually he breathed with a modicum of calm. “I demand... I would appreciate an explanation, Your Highness, as to our agreement yesterday. I’d believed the accord we’d struck to be iron-clad.”
“They're still yours to supervise, colonel, as they’ve been since we talked last.”
“Perhaps the stipulations of our agreement weren’t universally understood. When they are in my service, they are there to protect you and nothing else. They are not yours for errands, or for personal favors, or to make you feel better! They are not your friends! They are mine to command! Mine to punish! Mine!”
“You said they were to follow your orders as second only to mine! That when their drills were completed, they were free to visit with me!”
“The rules have changed,” he said, looking over her shoulder at Penumbra. “Everything has changed, Your Highness. Last night is proof that we’re at more of a risk than we thought.”
“We’re in the same risk as we were when we set out.”
“When we set out, you weren’t releasing a demon in our midst to satiate your guilt.”
Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. “Watch your tongue, colonel...”
Vanguard closed his eyes with a sigh. “It is not my tongue which you must mind, princess. She has a hold on you, one that extends far further than you dare think about. She’s poisoning you with words just as she poisoned Celestia.”
“You don’t think I understand that?!”
“Truly? No, I do not.”
For the first time, Twilight wished that he was being anything but honest. She found no indication to validate her fears. “What are you saying, colonel?”
Vanguard thought for a time. When he spoke, Twilight felt as though his words had no direction. She prayed it would remain that way. The truth striking home wasn’t something she was ready for. “I was asked to guide you, to aid you, to take upon myself every worry you possess and to defend you from any enemy that might come to hinder your progress. I find now, with last night’s eventualities, the tables have turned. It is not you who needs to be defended from them. It’s them needing defense from you.”
A chill ran her through. As she stood there in silence, her rebuttal on her tongue, she found no excuses. It had been her, and her alone, who’d released Penumbra from her chains. Who’d remained in her place as Luna and Celestia were spirited away from them. It hadn’t even been an argument, not at the time, though she’d torn her mind to pieces in the aftermath in search of a reason why. Even now, she didn’t know... but what was clear was that of all the possible dangers, she was the most volatile yet. “I... I never imagined she would change into Celestia...”
“And that is precisely why she changed. She’s not playing against you, milady. She’s playing you. She knows your greatest fears, your greatest weaknesses, every nightmare and every hope... She knows you better than you know yourself. Her kind doesn’t survive without knowing thus.”
“Unless she’s a mind reader, she can never know what I’m thinking.”
“No?” Slowly he paced around her, keeping her firmly within his orbit. It was more than Twilight could bear, to feel his gravity weigh down on her. “You pity her, ma’am. You see her rotting corpse, her madness, her disillusionment, and you think you might save her from herself just like you did Princess Luna. You hold this flame of hopeless optimism without knowing the candle’s been snuffed since Celestia took the blade. You yearn to hold your friends and know they’re safe because you rely on the Elements of Harmony to protect us. Not your instincts or training, not your intellect... You rely on something you can’t see or taste or touch, something you’ll never know has left you until it’s gone.”
Twilight closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. “That’s not true...”
“She played you from the beginning,” he continued, his voice skulking in the dark. “Your friends? They were pawns for her. She paraded in their visages not just as a ploy, but as a taunt. What better way to slip past your awareness? What better way to wheedle her way next to Celestia? You never noticed how cold they were, did you? Never gave it a second thought! And why? Because you're so dumbstruck by your dependence on them that you don't even consider what your instincts are telling you. You cling to them just as you cling to Celestia and Luna... but guess what, princess? They’re gone. All of them. All that’s left is us, so you latch onto my soldiers and subvert my command. Why? Guilt, and a willingness to do anything you can to ignore that which scares you most. Something we all had to learn the hard way..."
Twilight shut her eyes tighter, steeled her roiling gut, pulled any happy memory to her mind... Anything to keep her lip from trembling. “Please, stop...”
“You can’t be alone. You fear it beyond anything else. The thought that there might be no one left to guide you along your own path terrifies you so much that you will never allow yourself to realize just how much you stand to lose because of it. So what do you do? You give yourself to Celestia and Luna, to your friends and the Elements they bear... To anyone who might share responsibility for a life you’re too scared to live on your own. You hold them close, assured by the thought that they'll never leave you... but now, they have. Celestia is dying, and you don’t know how to save her. Luna is captured, but you don’t know where. The Elements and their Bearers are stolen, but you can’t find them...”
“Please... Please stop...”
“The zebras threaten war, and you can’t pacify them. Our plea to the griffons? Fallen on deaf ears! You’re out here alone without a place to go, surrounded by your books and your promises and your hopes, too ignorant and too scared to realize that only you can save them! A monster is hunting us, and he’s using your guest as his beacon! She’s probably communicating your every move as we speak!”
“Please! I can’t take this!”
“You don’t know where to go! You don’t know what to do! You don’t know where Luna is, and you don’t know how to save Celestia, so you bury your nose in your books and pray something comes to light, never realizing the world is burning all around you!”
“Please!!!”
He stopped just as quickly as he’d begun, leaving the air to ring with the sound of her all-but-stifled heaving. She clutched her chest, battled her trembling lungs, prayed and prayed with every strangled breath that her heart wouldn’t rip in her chest under the pain. He was right. Every word he’d spoken was true. They were gone, each of them, and she alone was responsible for everything. Waves of pain crashed against her stomach, threatening to send her over the edge and into despair. But then, slowly, she felt something brush the tears from her chin. She opened her eyes and found him staring down at her.
“And I didn’t need to read your mind, did I?”
The dagger twisted in her gut, pulling her core in on itself... but before she lost herself in sorrow completely, he pulled her chin up. It wasn't wrapped in his usual heaviness that she found him. Instead, his eyes shone with a sincere understanding. He knew this agony, this abyss of regret looming in her heart. He gave her a little, simple, honest smile. "What did she say to you?"
It took more strength than she'd expected to fight against the heaving of her chest, but after a great effort she choked out a wet, shaky “W-w-who?”
“Who do you think?”
Twilight gulped down some air. She thought of Cadance; a deep breath in, a long breath out. A memory of her came to mind, a glimpse of her before their grand entrance. Cadance had never been so beautiful, but it was only in Luna’s cold presence that such a radiant gem as she could be truly marvelled. Slowly, Luna’s shadow enveloped the memory and made cold the sunlight on her skin. Twilight blinked, thinking of those emotionless eyes of her former mentor.
If she falls, Equestria falls...
“She... She t-t-told me to forget m-my fears.”
“What else?”
Twilight’s gut’s clenching passed. “She... She said I calmed my heart but wore my fears for all to see—”
“‘When it must be in the reverse’?”
Twilight nodded meekly.
Vanguard took a deep breath, held it for what seemed like minutes, then let it out slowly. “She is an old soul, more aligned with her demons than any who walk this earth. Her self-born monster—her Nightmare—was not born of ignorance, selfishness, or any other lesser vice. Fed by jealousy, it was born of something far more dangerous: fear. Fear took her, made her submit rather than fight, crippled her when her life required strength. She gave in, and a darkness took her. She learned her mistake too late, but by then there was no one to hear her pleas. No absolution amongst the moon's cold stones. You mustn’t fall into the same despair.”
A hollowness crept through Twilight’s veins. What must it have been like, to relive all of her life’s failures in the darkness as Luna had? What better fuel for madness? What more brutal punishment for sins half-understood? “I can never be that strong,” Twilight said. “I could never suffer as much as she has.”
“You speak as though you have a say in the matter.”
“I do have a say in my own life!”
“And it is because of that naïveté that you will fail.”
Twilight retreated from him, eyeing him with disdain. “Why are you doing this, colonel? Is it not enough that I failed them? That I let Penumbra take them away from us? Do you not think I cry myself to sleep every night thinking about how I froze up? About what's been asked of you, or Rosy, or Summer? I do! Not a second goes by that I don’t hate myself for what happened, or that I wish I was taken instead! Is that not enough for you? What more would you have me do?”
“I would have you understand your part in your failures. I would have you know the full extent of your shortcomings. I would have you embrace those things you fear, know them better than you know yourself, and let them come willingly.”
“And let Penumbra have her pick of things to torture me with? What good will any of that do?”
“All the good in the world.”
His words rang with history, some base upon which the assurance in his voice rested. It stuck out more than the silence around them, or the rustling of cargo as Compass Rose and Summer finished their preparations. It made more sense than any other one of his cryptic assertions. Twilight inched forward, full of curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t always as I am now,” he began, his voice held low through what felt like great effort. “Once, I was just like you: self-assured and confident. Hardships came, things for which I was unprepared. I let my fear guide my actions, and my enemies took advantage of it. I never truly recovered. I was held captive by the same guilt and confusion you feel now. It was not until Luna was returned to us that I found someone who’d suffered as I had suffered. With her, I found peace. She taught me to know my fears, to embrace my failures and know what brought them to life. I learned, and I struggled, and I trained myself as she had: in silence and solidarity. Now, my enemies know me not. I have taken away their greatest asset and made it mine. I have made myself my own.”
His words left her stunned, and not because of their novelty. In a wave, his entire being made more sense. There was reasoning behind his cold anger, a source of fuel for the fire in his eyes. His kinship with Luna, his adherence to and pontification of her principles... Things clicked into place. He wasn’t so much a spurned candidate, as Compass Rose had defined him. He was Luna’s disciple, her true protégé. Her personal student, just as Twilight was Celestia’s. Twilight gulped down her anxiety and nodded her understanding.
“What do I need to do?”
Vanguard, with his customary frown, stood at attention and looked down upon her. “You need to hear a truth, princess. You need to know it exists, regardless of whether you believe it or not. It is one every leader must accept, for a time will soon come when it comes to fruition. How you are able to handle it depends entirely on you."
"What is it?"
"The knowledge that all of us—Compass Rose, Summer, and myself—will die."
Twilight scoffed. "Everyone dies eventually, colonel. That's an immutable fact of lif—"
"It will be by your hoof that we perish."
His words fluttered into her ears, and all at once the air in her lungs left her. "I don't believe a word of that..."
"You were never asked to believe it," he replied. "Only to recognize it."
"But how can I recognize something so blatantly wrong? I would never hurt any of you, much less kill you!"
"In the past day alone, you've managed to release your prisoner, almost die at her hooves, and beat your own guardian—the same guardian who saved you, mind—to within an inch of her already-battered life. Forgive my boldness, but if you’re so naïve as to think you won't be held accountable for your actions, then you truly don’t deserve the crown Luna gave you."
For the second time, the little blade of truth twisted in her stomach. Though she hated every moment, and though his gravity did nothing to ease her heartache, a part of her was glad for the honest counsel. "I... I never meant to hurt her..."
"I know that, Your Highness. She knows that. She has already forgiven you, and why? Because fear drove you to do it. You gave in to fear. It’s done, and nothing can change that. Now, you must look upon it and realize that what you do and how you act can, and will, have severe consequences. Your decisions, your knowledge, your responsibilities... They will drive you to lengths you've never encountered before, lengths from which you may look back and not be able to see where you came from. This is the burden of all leaders, royal and common alike. It is a universal trial that all must face, and it begins by understanding what drives you to make those choices."
“Then teach me, colonel! Teach me how to understand my fears!”
He shook his head heavily. “That is something I cannot do. That is a task which only you must undertake.”
“I thought you were supposed to help me!”
“Did anyone help Princess Luna when she was faced with the same trial?”
Twilight didn’t know how to respond to that. “Well, no, but—”
“Then why should it be any different for you?”
“Why? Because we’re not exactly in the best of conditions right now! Please, I’m asking for your help!”
“You’re asking the wrong pony.”
Twilight let out a deep, frustrated growl, then sat down hard. “Why are you even here, then? You’ve done nothing but undermine and confuse me from the start!”
“I said I would protect you, princess. I never said you were going to like how.”
Twilight rubbed her scalp and closed her eyes, praying that when she reopened them that he’d be gone. Opening her eyes proved her hopes dashed, and the day still ticking on. Twilight let out a little sigh. “There’s so much I don’t understand...”
“You are in a position that no other soul in this world would enjoy. Frustration is your right, and one I would be surprised if you didn’t use.”
“But I shouldn’t be frustrated. I should know how to control myself, how to think under pressure, how to make good decisions and do the right thing but... but I just don’t know what to do anymore. I always had the girls to point me in the right direction. I always had Celestia as a safety net. I always had Luna for... for...” She gave a wet chuckle. “Well, I always had Luna...”
“You’ve had many wells to draw from. Now is the time to use what you know in practice.”
“How can I use what I was never taught how to do properly?”
“Only with great effort.”
“You’re not helping.”
“You wouldn’t learn if I did.”
Twilight held her breath. Her heart slowed. She closed her eyes and felt him slide away into the background until she was utterly alone. The winds flowed effortlessly through the grass. Birds awoke and took to the air, jubilation in their hearts and on their tongues. The world sped on, and she alone was standing still. She was all that mattered, and her decisions and her trials would be hers and hers alone to command. Things would come, and she would be ready. Everything will be fine, she thought, releasing a long exhale. Everything will be fine.
She opened her eyes and found the plains just as calm as before, the morning sun still radiant, Vanguard still foreboding and emotionless. But at least now, with his anger extinguished and herself calmed down, things were beginning to make sense. She gave him a nod. “I think I understand.”
“So say all fools.”
He brushed past her brusquely, but bowed his head a fraction of an inch. It was good enough for now. He made a beeline for the harness before the wagon, lifting the yoke and struts with ease. Compass Rose and Summer took their stations behind Penumbra, their armor strapped on tight, their eyes filled with concern for their princess. “It’s nothing,” Twilight said, noticing their worry. “We just had a little talk.”
Compass Rose cocked his head. “What about, Your Highness?”
Summer massaged the space between her eyes and shook her head. “How can you still be so dense? They were talking about you!”
“I just thought I’d ask...”
“Stop acting so innocent, Rosy!”
“Knock it off, Summer,” Twilight snapped. “It’s none of your concern, so keep your nose out of his business!” Her eyes flashed to a terrified Compass Rose, holding him fast. “And you? I’m not going to keep getting yelled at because of you shirking your duties. You failed to complete your morning drills yesterday, and you abandoned your watch last night. I know it was mostly my fault this time, but the next time you screw up I'm not going to be there to save you. Do you understand?”
His lip began to tremble. “Ma’am, I didn’t mean—”
“Do you understand?”
He nodded quickly. “I... I understand.”
He turned away and never looked back. A great creaking rent the air as the wagon and its driver lurched forward to begin the day’s long march. Penumbra jolted onwards as her chain caught the slack, filling the air with another muffled tirade of curses. Compass Rose followed close behind, but not Summer. With a wary eye on Twilight she allowed herself to ease her pace, eventually joining Twilight’s side. She cleared her throat. “He means well, Your Highness. Believe me when I say he’s only looking out for you.”
“Have you finished your duties, Summer?”
“It’s what I’m doing now,” she replied. “I’m making sure you’re okay.”
“You don’t need me to announce my every emotion to know how I’m feeling. Unless I’m crying or bleeding, you shouldn’t be talking to me.”
“What if I just want to talk?”
“I don’t care what you want.”
Summer winced and fell back, but with a flap of her wings she was right back to her station. She did little more than stare, a fire in her watery eyes. “Where is this coming from, Twilight? I thought we were—”
“You thought we were what?”
“Well, I... I was going to say ‘friends’! I thought after everything we’ve been through—”
“We haven’t been through anything together,” Twilight snapped, falling to a dead stop. “We haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of what we’re undertaking, so if you think finding a few books for me gives you the right to distract me from finding my actual friends, then you’ve got another thing coming."
Summer said nothing, nor could she. Every response rising in her throat died upon looking into Twilight’s eyes. Finally, she turned away, flapped her wings, and alighted next to Compass Rose. Her eyes joined his in watching the wagon and, once there, never once turned back to Twilight.
Twilight watched her hooves and the blur of golden grass passing beneath them. The sun had barely moved on the horizon. She could feel her skin crisping under its heat. It felt like it would linger there forever.
It was shaping up to be another long day.

“You’re not doing it right, Rosy!”
“Oh, and you would know better, right? You failed Navigation, remember?”
“Only you scouts are supposed to know that kind of stuff, not me! And besides, it was too overcast to get a good shadow!”
“How about now? The sky’s about as empty as your head.”
Summer pushed him over with a growl, sending him tumbling into the grass. “Say that again!”
He scrambled to his hooves, trying his hardest to hide his surprise. “Cut the act, Summer! We both know you won’t hurt me.”
“I am this close to giving you a taste of what I got last night, so don’t test me!”
“Because that’s exactly what you need,” he countered. “Another test to flunk!”
Before he could scream she was upon him, tackling him to the ground with a howl of anger. She landed a few solid punches before a blur of purple pulled them apart. "Cut it out!" Twilight barked, standing between them. She watched Compass Rose wipe blood from his lip, then wheeled on Summer. "What's gotten into you?!"
"She just attacked me, princess! I didn't do anything wrong!"
Summer scoffed. "Bullshit you didn't!"
"Enough of this!" Twilight stomped her hoof, kicking up a puff of dust. "I don't care who started it, because I'm finishing it!" She waited for the tension to ease, then turned calmly to Compass Rose. "Tell me what happened."
"I was only trying to get our bearings straight, ma'am, before ‘Psycho’ here came around and screwed up my calculations!"
Summer snorted. "I've told you a million times: there's nothing to calculate! They make compasses so you don't have to fiddle with your little sticks and waste what break time we have! We should’ve left an hour ago, but instead we're frying out here!"
Twilight could only find reason to agree with her. Hours of silence and silent pondering, miles and miles of endless walking under a blazing heat, and yet the sun had nothing to show for it. Every time she’d looked to mark the time, the sun just wasn’t keeping up. The world sizzled angrily, heating the air in shimmering ripples like an endless ocean. Only the mountain's peaks could be seen. The rest was a blur, including their destination. The longer they waited, the more likely their ability to think rationally would be compromised. If it hasn't already.
"Why not use a compass, like Summer said?"
"I tried that, ma'am, but mine must be broken!"
He offered it to Twilight, who cradled it in her magic and held it before her. A quick turn of her body brought the needle to its desired place, but not a second later it averted course. No matter where it landed, it seemed loathe to stay there for more than a second. She drifted it back to him, shaking her head sadly. "I'm afraid you're right, Rosy. Any chance it can be fixed?"
"I can try, but I haven't the foggiest how long that'll take, and Summer's right: it's far too hot to linger here any longer. I thought I could use a shadow, but I’ve been trying ever since we stopped and nothing’s come of it. The sun’s just not moving fast enough."
Twilight said nothing. For a moment, she couldn’t feel her skin blistering in the sun’s light. Every thought and every hope she had was dedicated to Celestia, and every worry towards the sun lingering overhead. Something was wrong, she could feel it. Something had happened, and the news hadn’t yet arrived. Wherever they were, Spike and Shining Armor were undergoing a crisis just as she was now. She turned towards the wagon, praying they didn’t see her face. “Let me see what I can do.”
She leapt to the wagon and rummaged through its contents, trying furiously to keep her mind on her mission and not on the horrors that hovered over the southern horizon. Beneath the many arrows of Compass Rose’s arsenal and the myriad packages of food and sundries lay the object of her search: Star-Swirl’s textbook, with its cover’s silver whorls gleaming brilliantly. She whipped the pages aside and scanned over the artwork, past the various spells and enchantments and their definitions until one particular image caught her eye. More a cartoon, she thought, looking over the image of a colt lost in a dark wood, his compass smashed to pieces. In the final panel, he had found his home, thanks to the pulsing light of a little arrow. Below the illustrations, she found her spell. All it required was an extension of the mind’s grasp on space. Simple. What else could come of use, she wondered, idly flipping the page. Her mind wandered, and eventually her hoof, until she found herself in another chapter entirely.
Page after page of colorful drawings passed until she found herself enraptured by the smiling, inquisitive face of a young filly sitting in Star-Swirl’s shadow, a little book laid out before her. On its pages, hoof-drawn with extreme precision, sat lines of black text. An infinitesimally small message. But then, in the panels below, something caught Twilight’s eye. Tiny, metallic words had replaced some of the words on the page. They glimmered, distinct from their neighbors, meticulously written in silver ink. Hidden in plain view. Twilight gasped.
A secret message...
She closed the book, her heart thumping in her chest. Was this the spell that would decipher her diary’s string of nonsense? Was this a breakthrough? She couldn’t know for sure; The spaces in her heart on alert for absolution were now brimming with worry for Celestia. Still, though, hope fluttered. It was more than enough to send her trotting around the wagon, a smile on her face. “I think I’ve found just what we need!”
With a little scrunch of the nose she called her magic forth, reciting Star-Swirl’s spell in her mind. Her mind's eye centered on her immediate surroundings: on Summer, Rosy, Vanguard, Penumbra... the five of them, backs blazing red, waiting for her to return. Then, she panned out. Her view encapsulated their sliver of the grasslands; The Summer Sea entire; The mountains and the wood beyond; The Crystal Palace; Home. Soon, her mind fully extended from sea to sea as far as her memory could take her. Then, she mumbled the incantation. Her world condensed. Every point rushed into a singularity, crushing itself into existence. A little spark shot from her horn, fluttered before the three of them, then popped to life in the form of a little arrow. Its point panned to the horizon over Compass Rose’s shoulder, blinked three times, and then, with a little poof, vanished. Twilight gave him a smile. “Good enough?”
He gave an astonished start. “Perfect, Your Highness! How did you do that?”
“Found a spell in Star-Swirl’s manual,” she replied happily, sweeping up his discarded sticks. “There’s a bunch of things in there, things I’d never have thought to consider! Let’s push for where the marker pointed, and quickly. I don’t think we can take another minute of standing around baking.”
“Aye aye!” He trotted off to the wagon and chucked his broken compass within. Summer followed him at a distance, but stopped just shy of Twilight. She didn’t look as excited. She didn’t look like much of anything. Her face was a blank slate, equally one thing and its opposite, at every moment still. Then, she lowered her head. A sigh escaped her lips, just barely heard over the creaking of the wagon as they began anew. Within a few seconds she was gone, holding her station near Penumbra at the back. Twilight trotted to Compass Rose’s side, looking sadly to the blood slowly caking on his lip. “I’m sorry about what Summer did. I know she didn’t mean it.”
“I know,” he said, a demure little smile on his face. “It’s not the first time she’s barked at me.”
“She’s tired, Rosy. We’re all tired.”
“It sounds like you might be more tired than the rest of us.” He gave a little shrug. “Are you sure that memory wasn’t a dream? Something born of exhaustion? I’ve been thinking about it a lot, ma’am. About you and Summer’s library visit. About the night you hiked into camp. You two haven’t had a full day’s rest between you since we started.”
Though she wouldn’t admit it, it had been the sole occupant of her mostly-empty mind since the day had begun. Exciting though it was, her vision had been a memory, for what sleep she’d had had been naught but a dreamless, fuzzy cloud. That memory, just like Star-Swirl’s navigation spell, had been an experience beyond words. It had taken her from her body, let her see from above and beyond, let her float and fly and witness history firsthand. It couldn’t have been a dream. I haven’t dreamed since...
Twilight swallowed the lump in her throat. “I... I never really thought about it.”
“You should be thinking about it, with all due respect.” His eyes lit up. “Why don’t you take a nap, ma’am? Take a load off!”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I am! Just hop in the back and we’ll let you know when we get to a suitable campsite.”
She moved to refuse, but there was something in his eagerness that made her content to surrender. A yawn snuck out, one she couldn’t cover in time. It only made him smile more. She surrendered with a sigh. “You’re right, Rosy. Are you sure you won’t need me?”
“Positive, ma’am!”
With that, she had all the permission she needed. With a flutter of wings, she bounded into the wagon, adjusting her wings to her side as Vanguard, with an almost-silent grunt, adjusted to the new-found weight. She pulled out a blanket and hid herself from the sun. Her eyes closed briefly, and immediately she felt herself be pulled away. Her blinks became longer, her breaths protracted, and the sharp, jagged edges of the wagon smoother and softer with every second.
She rested her eyes. The weight slid off her shoulders. Her spine eased its fiery throbbing.
She let out a little breath.
Finally, some peace...

“I can hear you...”
A whisper, a murmur lost in the echoing silence. Water dripped somewhere deep within, somewhere far away. Her breaths lost themselves in the dark. She repeated herself, but still the cave was quiet. She stood up, looked about, saw nothing but darkness. Steel scoured skin, and silence reigned.
“Are you there?”
No response. The cold, slick bars of a cell pressed against her cheeks as she leaned closer. Her ears flicked up. Nothing was coming. She looked past the stars in her mane, squinted her eyes, reached out in the dark.
“I know you’re out there.”
Still no answer. She slid to the ground. Her eyes blurred with tears.
“Please... I can't take anymore.”
Steel clashed against stone. A hoofstep, heavy and deliberate. Someone was coming.
Her eyes closed. The sound grew louder. She could hear breathing. Mumbling. Chuckling.
“Please....”
A blade glinted in the dark. Luna shed another tear.
“Twilight...”

Twilight jolted awake. Panic raced rampant through her heart as her eyes became accustomed to the dim light all around. Her hooves rubbed on smooth fabric, not steel. A blanket, made warm by the sun. It was just another nightmare, Twilight thought, wiping her cheeks dry. It had been far too real, nowhere near as cloudy as the previous night’s vision. It was almost as clear as the memory of the orphanage, but not benign or exhilarating. The tears soaking the blanket beneath her testified to that. Twilight shrugged the blanket from her shoulders, allowing the sun free entrance onto her skin. Don’t think about it, she thought. It’ll only drive you mad.
        Twilight looked about, but nothing had changed. The sun sat at its zenith, scalding the land below. Ripples of heat had turned the grasslands into a mirror and the world an ocean of scalding light. Vanguard trudged on, his helmet’s crest ruffled and damp, his neck stained in sweat. Steadily he marched, the wagon and its shackled prisoner close on his tail. It had been just as she’d left it when sleep had finally taken her. Turning to a sweating Compass Rose, she satisfied her curiosity: “How long have I been out?”
        At first, he didn’t seem to hear, but then with a deep pant his eyes flicked to the wagon. “About an hour,” he mumbled, straining with every word. “We’ll be there shortly, ma’am. We’ll be there. We’ll be...”
        He trailed off, his eyes closing in exhaustion. It took him everything he had to say those words, or even put one hoof before the other. A long day indeed, but with every step they were just a fraction closer to Luna. She turned to Summer, but was unable to catch her eye. She had an uncanny ability to avoid eye contact, especially now. Twilight tried again, but was unsuccessful. She looked in her direction, smiling sadly. Give her time.
        A few minutes of watching the horizons and the grasslands below proved fruitless. There was nothing to see. With a turn she looked to Star-Swirl’s spellbook, still glittering in the searing sun. A spearhead shone beneath it. She touched the blade, recoiling from its heat. An idea sprang to mind, supported in earnest by the throb of the sunburn on her back. A quick moment of work and rearrangement, some slight organization, and moments later a makeshift canopy popped up with plenty a shadow to spare. Compass Rose chuckled warmly from beside the wagon, which only made her more proud. She sat herself in the shade, took another look outside, and propped open Star-Swirl’s spellbook. The pages flew to the filly from before, seated happily beside her grizzled mentor. Twilight shared in her smile, looked over the images, and began to read the text below:

Twilight broke her concentration and followed the book’s instructions, turning the textbook in the sunlight until the filly’s journal glinted with silver. There, just as the book had said, sat little words standing out from the others: Remember... Your... Secret. With those three simple words on her lips, she picked back up where she left off:

She read it twice more before allowing herself to close the book. No matter the sing-song meter or childish influences, there was no denying that such a simple spell was possessive of infinitely more uses than what was intended. She remembered the silver journal and the bright blue message flaring to life on its inside cover. In the knowledge of the process, was there promise in trying again?
Were these the materials they were looking for?
In a blur she scrambled through the wagon’s contents, burrowing deep until the buckled bundle of books brushed against her hoof. She pulled out the silver journal and rubbed its lock clean, admiring its façade before curiosity finally forced her to flip it open. The incantation hadn’t reappeared on the inside cover, much to her dismay. There was, however, the grandest of changes: where once the words on the first page had been jumbled, they now had been rearranged, reassembled, or transformed into actual words. She sped through the first line, brimming with excitement. There were words, sentences, even syntax! She pulled her eyes to the top of the page and began to read, wading through the spidery, delicate scrawl until she was able to decipher the ancient text.
Her heart skipped a beat.

Day 17, Month of the Fallow Field.
Year 493 of the First Age.
As Platinum decrees, I must obey. Subordination is ever the scourge of will. I've pledged my fealty and love to her, and I have no misgivings for having done so. She has ever been the object of the highest adoration. Still, this task vexes me. To record my personal thoughts for all posterity in a filly’s diary suggests that my opinions are more prattle than practical, worthy of no special significance. That she has assigned it to me like a school project only adds to the misery. It feels as though I’ve taken a step backwards.
If ever another reads these words, I apologize. There is little you might learn that lays not in some other, more specific text. I can only hope you find some meaning, for I foresee none.
I begin my recollection of the week’s events. The winter rages on as it has since my foalhood. The patches of warm weather we enjoy are few and very far between, the last being some many months ago. Though many on the High Counsel disagree with her assessment, I place my trust in Weathermeister Thermal of the Pegasus clan; This winter shall not, as the High Magister believes, abate over the coming year. Thermal’s observations have always served us well, though voicing her name is akin to heresy in the eyes of the High Council. The fog hovering over their heads is one rife with prejudice. I can only hope the validation of her beliefs helps dispel that sickening cloud.
Our foals seem unvexed by the mounting snow. They play in the streets below my window with complete abandon, minding their mothers’ calls and their fathers’ warnings, utterly free to their whims and machinations. They know little else; Not but a quarter of them have known the embrace of the sun’s heat. Even I, barely a mare, can hardly remember. It pains me to think that they might never be truly warm. If they should ever enjoy those wondrous sunbeams that my memory deems fit to treasure, I would let the cold take me in my sleep and be happy for it. I cannot remember anything more wonderful than a sun in summer glory. I only hope they will feel a similar rapture soon.
I fear for their safety as the nights grow colder. Milady and I have been much aggrieved by the influx of reported deaths. Our magic and that of the Seven has done little to stave off the snow, nor is it enough to raise and lower the sun and moon according to schedule. Nights as long as days and days as long as hours are becoming more and more common. I struggle to help feed and clothe fillies and colts where I can, and though I have appealed to him on several occasions the High Magister looks upon my attempts as trivial. I could entertain the notion of vying for his position, should his time come. I already do more for our proud nation than that incomparably narrow-minded buffoon.
Perhaps in response to my feelings, my most beloved Princess Platinum has to myself and my dearest friend Penny extended a most special audience. Even as I write this, I await the summons. I know not that which propels the invitation, but my dear friend Penny has alluded to her thoughts on the matter. In her mind, the princess wishes to appoint me the Head Consul of her court, a title worthy of some esteem. I would be humbled beyond words, though in some respects dismayed. My heart lies in magic, not politics, and most certainly not in matters of the military; Her appointment would put me at odds with Field Marshal Phalanx. As if I'd earned enough disdain from him already. A young mare elevated to such status? Unheard of. I can only hope her rumors prove false, as much as it pains me to admit. There are some dragons best left undisturbed.
I must converse with the Earth pony Foodstuff Coordinator on the morrow. Radishes have become so popular that I have a hard time keeping up with the demand. Princess Platinum herself has demanded their introduction into her diet. Their nutritional benefits must explain the recent reports of their disappearance from the Earth pony stores. Scathing reports, their origins unknown, have indicated foul play, but whether by beast or pony is unclear. None seem to have any clue. How can I acquire them when not even Chancellor Puddin'head has any idea of their whereabouts?
Just looking outside gives me little hope the acquisition of any form of food might be possible. Down in the market, our ponies cry out for aid. The boiled cabbage slowly cooling on my desk fills me with sorrow. They don't deserve this kind of suffering, not for all the trials they've had to endure in this unrelenting winter. Something must be done, and not just amongst us unicorns. Only a concerted effort from all three races might end this blight. I will ply Milady Platinum for her thoughts on the matter. Given our relationship, I have some power to push for reconciliation. Hopefully she will see reason, if her prejudice against the Earth ponies and Pegasi permits.
If no compromise is reached, I don't see a way this winter will be one we survive. I can only hope something is done in time.

In the name of Her Highness Princess Platinum, Lady Regent of the Gilded Lands and Governess of its Outlying Territories, I do hereby decree th...

Her eyes fell to the bottom of the page and the swipe of ink running through the letter’s last few lines. Though some words still remained, the smear had eliminated how it had ended, or who had written it long ago. Twilight rubbed her temples and sighed. How convenient.
Looking back to the pages, her eyes drifted to the margins, to the day and date listed above, to anything that might provide some clue. If Star-Swirl’s secret spell was any hint, then only something shared would bring it about. A group of three words, a triplet possessive of another meaning. Looking closely, there was nothing to indicate that finding something like that would come easily. She read the entire entry twice more before giving in to frustration. What could it be?
Her eyes and head rested on the book’s front page. If it had been gibberish before, it was more so now, regardless of the deciphered words and their importance. She pored over the words, reassembled them, thought over all possible combinations until her mind and eyes were sore. Not even with the words inches from her nose could she find something ‘meaningfully endowed’, as the textbook had said. She blew the hair from her face.
Her eyes fell on a word: ‘remember’.
Wait...
She looked at it intently. Something—someone—had left a miniscule mark just above it. It wasn’t a mistake; Whomever owned this journal, regardless of the jumbled messages, had impeccable penmanship. It was a deliberate point, an ink-soaked mote, evidence of a finely-sharpened pen nib. The author had left something behind. A clue.
Just what I need!
Reinvigorated, Twilight began reading the message again, scouring every swoop of the pen as though it alone were the focus of her mad scramble for answers. Once more, ‘remember’ was alone in possessing the mark. She read down further, her nose pressed against the paper, reading further and further until finally, tucked above a letter, the mark had been made again. Her heart fluttered.
“‘My’...”
With excitement in control she stampeded through the last few lines. Now, the little mark was almost all she could see. Her eyes flashed quickly to the word ‘origins' towards the bottom of the page. The triplet was found. She couldn’t control her smile. She was so close, she could feel it! All it needed was one last piece: a memory of the author, the only one privy to its intention, the only one who'd know a spell as ancient as this one.
The only one who made any sense.
It was a face she’d never seen before, an image of a mare for whom she’d only had fantasies of. There was no telling what life she’d actually lived, or the troubles she’d faced, but with all the pieces in place there was no other mare more fitting. Twilight closed her eyes. She thought of Clover the Clever.
“Remember my origins.”
Before she could gasp the words on the page glowed, filling every corner of her makeshift tent with a brilliant blue light. She covered her eyes, breathless and terrified, filled with a sickening excitement she could hardly contain. A vision of Vanguard flickered to life: Let it come.
Don’t be afraid...
She opened her eyes. The light had petered away, leaving in its place the three marked words written in clear sky-blue magic. Once more she repeated them, keeping them on the tip of her tongue as the book had said. Once more again, just to keep them alive. Then, her thoughts rested on the poem from before. A final time she repeated the words in her mind. Her tongue formed the words of the incantation. Her eyes closed.
She felt herself slide away...

The world slipped away in silence. All around, far beyond her grasp, the world waited, watching her float in a sea of white. It pounded in a cacophonous, empty din, and as she awoke it unveiled itself to her new-born eyes. Snow tinkled against an icy windowpane shaking in the pressing wind. A brave little candle stood defiant nearby, shedding what it could to warm a mint-green hoof splotched with black. This body and its movements weren't her own, just as the orphanage had been. She let everything come slowly, allowed herself to sink into the feeling and become one with her surroundings. She relaxed, and as she did she felt herself keenly aware of a creaking of an old rusty door. Her host turned, and she with it, to find a goldenrod-colored mare plodding carefully into the confines of a dusty study.
She was a gold-and-bronze beacon in an otherwise dark and dingy room, possessing of a simple beauty. A gravity rested on her hooves that betrayed an otherwise undetectable severity. She didn't walk or trot gaily; She strode with assurance, as though her steps were limited and her time invaluable. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said quietly, looking to the ink on the diary pages. With her head and horn up high she stopped just before Twilight's host, a little flutter of excitement on her lips. "It's time. She awaits our presence.”
"Allow me a minute."
It was the same voice she'd had in orphanage, but harder, ragged around the edges. Still smooth, but only by way of a long, slow, steady grinding of the soul. Her world turned towards a rusty bucket standing alone in a corner. A ladle floated to her side wrapped in an airy green light. She dipped it into the bucket on the floor. Her body clenched, and before Twilight could find words of protest frigid water splashed on her face and seeped between the fibers of a rough tunic. Her inky hoof descended and gave her another round of teeth-grating shivers, a horrid cold that never abated as she scoured the ink from her hoof. She turned back to her guest and shook herself awake, blinking the sleep from her eyes ferverously. "You don't think she'll mind my state?"
"She never has nor will," the mare replied. "Her Grace—May she be blessed!—has but two eyes for scrutiny. They will not be on us, but our guests."
"I hope you're right."
The golden mare spread a hoof to the door. “Come. We mustn’t keep her waiting.”
She stepped to the mare's side with the ease of a long-time friend, though her eyes remained on the little study behind her. The nearby windows rattled terribly in the wind. A lonely bowl of soup steamed silently beside it, steam emanating pitifully from its surface. And there in the corner, just above her washbucket, an icicle sat firmly rooted in the stone ceiling’s decaying mortar. Cozy, but sparse. Little more than a shell. Twilight looked them over sadly, then allowed herself to be pulled from the room. She felt her magic seal the door closed. Then, with the other mare beside her, she stepped into the hallway and down a lengthy corridor.
Her eyes never left the ground, for the only promise this empty castle had was one of heartache. The walls were wreathed in a sadness no tattered, water-soaked tapestry could fully denote. Their prideful emblems had long been washed away, and their ruffling in the icy drafts belied the delicate and brittle nature of the walls they hid from view. Her hooves clopped dully on mere cobbled stone, not the grand marble from home. This wasn't Canterlot, nor could it have been; The pride of the Royal Guard was lost on these soldiers frozen to their places. Their eyes shone not with an honored twinkle, but with resignation, knowing this carcass of a castle was one they could never rightly leave. Twilight, deep down, could feel her own self pity them. But soon, the sensation of her host overpowered her own feelings, leaving both them and her to suffer their fates.
They passed up the slippery steps of a spiral staircase and into the daylight. It was all but warm, for the snow and driving wind had sapped its heat away. They passed by the castle maids in their shabby, snow-drenched rags. Her cheeks flushed as she felt their eyes linger on her clean tunic. How she longed to be free of it, if only to blend in. Better that I should suffer than they. Poor souls...
She shook her head to find her escort yards ahead of her, marching proudly to the far end of a long stone hall. Her eyes were set on a massive oak door and the crowd of peasants clamoring for attention. A row of soldiers stamped their spears and created a path through the throng. Twilight followed her escort through the crowd, feeling her pride wither with every step.
They broke through the murmuring crowd and into what had once been a lavish throne room. A stained glass window loomed on the far side of a long hall. On it, the figure of a silver stallion braced himself behind a grand golden tower shield buffeted by whirling fire, his sword held firmly at the ready. Across from him, the figure of an obsidian dragon with a kaleidoscope of rubies for eyes. They loomed over the heads of a passel of filthy Earth ponies huddled together in a tight group. For warmth or security, she couldn’t know for sure. Across the carpet aisle, a glowering well-to-do unicorn in well-hemmed robes stood flanked by his attendants. Despite his rage, he stood patient in the shadow of a faded-lilac mare sealed comfortably on a rough oaken throne.
Twilight and her host looked up and lost their breath.
Princess Platinum, wrapped in a down-frilled crimson robe, was the very essence of power: stern, but patient; loving, yet demanding. Sitting square on her cushion, her luscious purple hair had faded since Twilight had last seen it, shining with ribbons of silver down her wrinkled neckline. The youth and vigor from the orphanage still shone beneath folds of sagging skin. There was a fire in her still, a hold on the heart that coddled and crushed the very spirit of whomsoever had the honor of heralding her presence. She was perfection in all its beautiful—and terrible—forms. In her own homely state Twilight couldn’t help but feel ashamed, but all that timidity blew itself aside as she mounted the steps and took her place on Platinum’s right. She shot her a smile, which was returned in earnest.
“How farest thou, love?”
“Well enough, Your Grace.”
An unbearable wave of love poured through her heart as they shared what felt like a greeting without end. She’s perfect, Twilight thought, closing her eyes with a smile. Absolutely perfect.
Twilight opened her eyes to find Princess Platinum sweeping a hoof towards the golden mare on her other side. The mare stepped forward and bowed. “May I present to you Pretty Penny,” Platinum said calmly, “a secretary of the Golden Bank and a student of financial jurisprudence.” She stopped, then presented Twilight's host with a smile. “And Clover, my personal advisor.”
All at once, the world became a little clearer. Finally, validation! Twilight’s heart soared to the rafters as her hooves—Clover’s hooves!—remained in their place. Her inner thoughts broke free and screamed her excitement, a cascade of happiness to cast away the cold.
It’s her! It’s actually her! 
Whatever timidity remained dissolved as Twilight allowed herself to melt into her new-found body, allowed her senses and her thoughts and her hopes to become one with Clover’s. There was no reason for trepidation! In Clover, nothing could go wrong! Soon she was no longer herself, but Clover, standing above the heads of the crowd below with all the confidence she could ever need.
She spoke, and the memory became reality.
“I’m happy to be of service.”
“I believe we’ve surpassed the need for your help, or for lawyers,” the business pony said. She could hear the bits in the pockets of his robes rattle together from here. “They’ve clearly broken both common and financial law!”
“You will speak when addressed,” Princess Platinum said. He caught his tongue, swallowing his pride with a grimace. Platinum turned to Twilight’s escort and nodded. “Begin, Miss Penny.”
The golden mare took a step forward and bowed. “At milady’s behest, I will hear your claim. What is your concern, and how might I be of service?”
The unicorn businesspony brandished a hoof at the group of ponies huddled across the carpet. “These filthy thieves have reneged on their contracts to me, and I demand compensation! I am the owner of a large estate, with many a field from which my family derives our wealth. We're merchants, selling only the finest vegetables to towns far and wide... or were, before the Long Winter began. I hired these poor, sickly Earth ponies to work my many fields, giving them a place to live and food from my very own larders. They work my fields and grow my crops, and I pay for their work and living expenses. ‘Tis as iron-clad an agreement as any ‘twixt employer and employee... but they’ve sullied their bond. They’ve given away portions of what little crops I have—crops to which they have no legal claim—to their fellow scum!” He spat at the ground. “I demand compensation plus interest, I demand these ponies be evicted at once, and I demand they pay for their crimes against me and mine ten-fold!”
Penny looked to Clover with a sad look in her eyes. Clover nodded, grimacing. “According to Penny, what you say is just in the eyes of the law... but what of decency? See you not their state or the raging winds outside? It sounds to me as though they’ve done nothing but try to aid others in times of strife!”
“With my wares! They’ve been handing out food—my food—in exchange for clothes and necessities, things of which I have given them ample supply!”
“That ain’t true!” An aging Earth pony jolted forward, though as he stood there heaving it was clear the action had drained him completely. His clothes were patched and haggard, and his voice sounded almost rusty. It was no stretch of the imagination to think his tools would be equally corroded. “He ain’t done nothin’ but let us die in the cold! We use all our shares to stay alive, somethin’ he’s supposed to do by law!”
"The law will absolve me of caring for you slime,” the business pony snapped. "You're just lucky I haven't thrown you filth into the snow where you belong!”
Clover stomped her hoof. “Quiet, please! When you’re in a princess’s company you will be civil, or you will be silenced!”
Platinum patted her on the hoof. “Thank you, dear.” She rose her head towards the farmers' leader. “Approach me, sir, and speak your name clearly.”
The farmer ripped his hat from his head like a guilty colt, holding it to his heart for dear life. “Furrow, Your Grace! These here are my kin: my wife and sister, my nephews and my... my little ones. We're but one of the many families sufferin' because of him."
“I bid you welcome to my hall. I hope you find it warm.” She gestured him closer. “Speak your woes, and speak them clearly. It seems the brashness of my youth is catching up with me.”
A few of the Earth ponies smiled, which only made their aging leader more confident. “We’re simple farmers,” he said, “trying our hardest to eke out a living. We came under his employ just as my oldest was born, and he was fair to us for a time... but then the blizzards got worse. Many died. Far too many. And the children, they... they never..." He steadied himself, his crying eyes on his family. "But we remained,” he continued shakily, “and we pulled short the slack left behind by the others. We gave, and gave, and gave, but nothing changed. Now, we’re givin' everythin' we’ve got just to do right by our families and this pony here, but still we struggle. We ain’t like you, ma’am. We ain’t got a big castle nor magic fires to heat our gruel. Our work is tiresome, and this Long Winter has been long indeed. Y’all don’t know sufferin’, but we—”
“All have suffered, sir, even we unicorns. Our losses are comparable to the misery of your own, and our work equally so! If you continue to belittle our own woes, you will find deaf ears and locked doors!”
“I meant nothin’ by it, Your Grace!”
“Then speak candidly, or leave my hall!”
He gulped down some air, shivering horribly. “We... we ain’t lookin’ for trouble, ma’am! Only that which we’re all due: fair payment for our work and the necessities as promised in our contracts.”
“Elaborate on that, if you could,” Penny said to the business pony. “By what conditions are they to be treated?”
“Same as any worker on my estate,” the unicorn replied. “Free board in my warehouses, ten percent of the yield for food, and wages equivalent to ten percent of the yield paid in bits as compensation for their services.”
“Leaving you eighty percent of the yield to do with as you wish... Why, then, have you brought them to trial? Have you not enough?”
“They’ve been stealing from those shares they don’t have right to and giving it freely to their kind!”
“Is this true,” Clover said, looking down at the Earth pony leader. “Have you been stealing from your employer and giving to others?”
Furrow froze, looking to his family in terror. “We... we ain’t been doin’ nothin’ wrong,” he stammered. “We’ve got families, miss! Ponies needin’ food and clothin’! Ponies sufferin’ because this pony here ain’t payin’ us his due!”
“There hasn’t been anything worth paying them for! They’ve done nothing in my fields, so why should I pay them to steal from me?”
“You agreed to pay us for our work, and we’ve been workin’ harder than ever! But this blizzard... There ain’t been nothin’ we can do to stop it!”
“I don’t pay you for excuses,” the business pony exclaimed. “I pay you to make food, and if you can’t make anything grow then you won’t reap the benefits of your work. Our agreement was for twenty percent of the yield, not twenty percent of the effort! You don’t work? You don’t get paid for it. Fair is fair, Your Grace, and what they’ve been doing is unfair to me and mine!”
Clover locked eyes with the Earth pony leader. “Why have you brought this matter to us? Why not your chancellor?”
“Chancellor Puddin’head ain’t able to aid us,” Furrow said, his lip trembling. “Not with the crops they way they are. Thousands are in situations just like ours: indentured to the same cruel employers, livin' in the same squalor. His ears have grown tired of our pleas! Understand our plight, miss, and take pity on us! You’ve been the only ones who’ve given us so much as a second glance!"
Her heart wrenched as she watched him struggle to contain his tears. “Have you entreated the pegasi for aid? These blizzards are theirs to wrangle, correct? Have they nothing in their heart to give you?”
A tear flashed down his cheek. “They never even looked down from their clouds at us! Please, miss! We’ve given all we have to give and more to this pony, but he’s bleedin’ us dry! My wife and babies are starvin', just as the others' are! We've lost so many already, and now everything we have is bein’ taken away! What he’s doin’ ain’t fair!”
Clover lowered her eyes to the ground. “I only wish we had more to give you, sir. But with things as they are, I don’t see much we can do. The law has been broken, and by your own admission you’re responsible. Whatever you’ve given out to others, you must replenish to your employer.”
“Hold on,” Penny said, catching Clover’s attention. There was something in her eyes that screamed something was amiss. She turned to the business pony. “As part of your agreement, you're responsible for their housing, correct?”
“I am,” he said plainly. “They’ve had full run of my warehouses and barns for themselves and their families. They don’t, however, have the right to give housing to those not under my employ, and certainly not my food. They’ve broken both of these stipulations.”
“That’s true, they’re not allowed to do such a thing. But tell me, what facilities exist in these barns? Have they a washroom? Places to store their clothing? A hearth in which to cook themselves hot meals?”
He looked frazzled. “A hearth? Graces, no! A fireplace in a hay barn? I might as well set it alight myself and spare myself the waiting! That’s a disaster waiting to happen!”
“Where, then, might they find a fire with which to cook?”
“My estate. They’re given full access to my kitchens to make meals as they please. When I suspected they were stealing my food, I revoked that privilege.”
“There!” Clover stamped her hoof, turning to Penny. She had a similar light in her eyes. We’re on to something! “Access to basic necessities is your responsibility, and in revoking it before having evidence of their guilt you’ve broken the bonds of your contract as well. Penny?”
“‘Tis true,” Penny replied. “As stipulated in our laws, all employers with live-in help must care for their workers’ basic needs, namely food, clothing, shelter, and compensation. In revoking their access to your kitchens without evidence, you’ve denied them proper facilities to eat, thereby breaching your contract.”
“Preposterous! How am I the one to be punished when they breached our bond first? In giving out my wares, they’ve openly and maliciously sought to do me harm!”
"You acted before you had proof and revoked a condition of your agreement without due cause!” It was difficult to contain her excitement, especially when she caught Furrow’s crying eyes and gave him a hopeful smile. “Besides, there's nothing malicious about trying to stay alive, especially when one has a family!”
"Theft is the epitome of malice! To place my life in peril for selfish gain? They've openly sought to ruin me, and for that I'll not give them an inch!"
Clover shook her head furiously. “They’d never have been in that spot had you not addressed their needs from the onset!”
“I’ve done more for these rats than their own chancellor has! Do not impugn my generosity! Besides, they’re Earth ponies! You have an obligation to do right by your own kind, not theirs!”
“But they’re ponies too!”
“They’re not worth the mud I scrape off my hoof!”
“Silence!”
The room fell quiet. Princess Platinum rose from her place with all the cold fury of the blizzard raging beyond the windows. She took a few steps down from her pedestal and stood before the two groups, eying them both furiously. Clover shivered; The look in her eyes as she stared down the business pony was the same merciless fire she’d had for the Headmaster, so long ago. “I’ve heard enough. Your avarice has spoken of your worth, and I’ve found it lacking. You are of an order most cruel, especially in these trying times... but the law cannot be superseded.” Her eyes flashed to Furrow. “Tell me true, for I’ll know if you’re lying: is what your employer stated true? Did you give his wares and his housing to others of your kind in exchange for necessities?”
Furrow didn’t make a sound, but his silence spoke volumes. Slowly his head fell, weighed down with guilt and tears. “Indeed, Your Grace... but we had no choice! We’ve suffered beyond sufferin’ itself! Please, show us mercy! Find it in your heart to forgive us our trespasses!”
“We shall,” Clover said, stepping to the fore. “But you must be punished nonetheless. You have committed a crime, and you must pay the penalty. Your sentence, though it pains me to do so, will be to remain in the care of your employer.”
“Your Grace!” The business pony leapt forward to the jangling of coins. “That’s unfair! They’ve stolen enough from me! To care for them a second longer is something I shall not do!”
“But you will,” Clover declared. “Both parties have broken their bonds, so both must be punished and recompensated in equal stride. For your greediness, you shall be forced to grant them housing freely, and not in your warehouses. Each family shall have a room in your so-called estate, and free access to your kitchens, your baths, and your hearths. You shall care for them as you should have from the beginning: with the dignity and respect that every pony is due.” She turned towards the Earth ponies, smiling sadly. “But only so long as it takes for you and the other families to farm and bring forth crops to give back what you’ve taken two-fold. You will not be paid for your work, and you will not be allowed to leave until you’ve done so. When every vegetable you’ve given away has been returned to your employer, you will leave his estate in goodwill and seek new employment elsewhere.”
Clover let her words linger, looking to Princess Platinum to find her beaming proudly. “So it shall be,” Platinum said, giving Clover a wink. “By my own voice and by the voice of honest counsel, I decree that these are the sentences. You shall fulfill them, both to me and to each other, in the knowledge that I shall be watching you both for full compliance. You can expect an agent of mine to see to it by week’s-end.” She clopped her hoof on the hard floor below, issuing her decree to a peal of steel and stone. “This is my justice. I appreciate your attendance on this matter. We’re adjourned.”
No one looked exceptionally pleased, but not a word of defiance was dared uttered. In silence they bowed—the Earth ponies lower than their employer—and then trooped out from the throne room in a line. The business pony gathered his assistants close, shot Clover a vicious stare, then swept his cloak about himself and strode from the hall with a haughty snort. When all had left, the soldiers flanking the doorway sealed the door closed. The second the latch clicked home, Platinum collapsed in her throne. “Damn them both! Know they not to trifle an old mare with petty grievances?”
“You’re not just any mare,” Clover said lovingly, dabbing the sweat from her princess’s brow with a kerchief. “You’re their princess, and they love you dearly.”
“They certainly know not how to show it,” Penny said. A pitcher and three glasses popped to life beside her, pouring out a rich red wine. She offered one to Platinum, who drained it in a flash. The others drifted to her side and Clover’s, perched in their respective magics.
Princess Platinum rallied her strength with a few deep breaths before turning to Clover. “A sound judgment, my dear, and swiftly done. Any longer and these stones would’ve frozen us solid.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Clover replied quietly. “But I wish it didn't have to come to that. Those farmers looked as though just one more cold night might be the end of them."
"The law's what matters," Penny countered, "and by all accounts your verdict was in the right. The punishment was fair, but I'd contest the fact that they should share it equally."
"For what reason?"
Penny gave a little scoff and fiddled with her glass. "Another unicorn’s been cheated of their hard work because of those dirt-diggers. Granted, he was wrong to punish them without cause... but didn't you see them, Clover? They dragged in half their field with them! How can we trust them with anything if we can't trust them to bathe before addressing Her Grace? A clean body is a clean mind, after all. Leave it to an Earth pony to be ignorant of that fact."
Clover drowned her disgust in wine and said nothing. Soon, the hall returned to its normal state: cold and drafty, with all its flaking golden trimmings wreathed in frost. Clover tucked her princess’s cloak about her tightly, which earned her a smile and a pat on the hoof. Penny stood alone, sipping her glass with a shiver before breaking the silence: “It has been something of a tempest lately, hasn’t it? Theft or no, nopony deserves to be so miserable. Not even an Earth pony.”
“Indeed,” Platinum replied, looking up. “‘Tis this castle, I believe. ‘Twas never my dear father’s intent that it should stand to see these days.” She breathed a defeated sigh and looked to her father’s image looming overhead. “His heart would break, to see us now: his empire in ruins, our wealth spent on firewood.” She raised her glass. “May his rest be warm!” She dropped her voice low, so low only Clover could possibly hear her: “May I join him soon...”
“Agreed,” Penny added, raising her goblet. She hadn’t heard her princess’s whisper, much to Clover’s relief. Her eyes were on the stained glass window overhead, full of wonder and warmth. “He was a great stallion, to return to us such a gift!”
Platinum gave a wistful sigh. “It would be a gift to be in his presence once more. But Fate is cruel, and not without a sense of humor; That great beast’s last breath brought this country together, and now we whittle ourselves away for the return of his fire.”
Clover drew closer, adding her body heat to her princess’s. “The summer sun will kiss these walls again, Your Grace, just as I promised it would.”
“Remember you still your promise?” Platinum gave a hearty chuckle at that. “A filly’s hope, and a younger me’s indulgence to her! Think you still on it?”
“Every moment! I swore I would make it come back, and I meant it!”
“Your dreams are enough warmth for my old bones, my love! It warms me so, to see your heart is in it!” Her eyes flickered with excitement. “Perhaps, before I perish, we’ll enjoy a summer sunset from a balcony of New Palladia!”
Penny started, utterly astonished. “You mean to finish it, Your Grace?”
“Aye, my dear. My father didn’t skewer that lizard to see his trophy neglected! He didn’t die in that mountain's shadow to have his vision buried alongside him! His castle—my castle!—was to be the envy of the world! I shan’t join him in his slumber until I see it done myself!”
Penny didn’t seem to know what to say, but only at first. “We... we haven’t the money to complete such a task! The Golden Bank is hemorrhaging bits, Your Grace!”
“In what way?”
 Penny took another sip of wine to steady herself. “Your latest trade envoys to the Earth ponies and the Pegasi were unsuccessful, Your Grace. I’ve only just received the reports."
"Unsuccessful? Know they not our banners? A royal envoy is never to be turned aside!"
"Unfortunately, Your Grace, they were. The Chancellor was unavailable to welcome our emissaries."
"You mean 'unwilling', don't you? As to be expected. That corpulent oaf can't be moved to lift a hoof for royalty, if he can be moved at all!" Platinum chuckled at her joke, then turned back to Penny. "What of the self-appointed Commander?"
"No word," Penny replied. "Furrow was right about that, at least. They never even acknowledged your banners, let alone acquiesce to them."
"That little...” She shook her head. “Were I his mother—and believe me, I thank the Fates with every breath that I'm not—I'd give him a paddling more worthy of his name than he is!" She threw up her hooves, looking to the ceiling far above. "Am I alone the one voice of reason in this world?" She let her hooves fall, sighed, and looked to Penny. "What more, dear? What other news have you to trouble me with?"
Penny stood stock-still, terror holding her tight. "It cost more to send them off than they garnered in trade, and that’s not counting the loss of life along the way.”
“Blizzards?”
She shook her head. “Quite the opposite, milady...”
Clover let out a gasp. “You can’t be serious...”
“I am,” Penny mumbled. “Half of them returned half-scorched, and the other half didn’t return at all.”
Princess Platinum nodded her head quietly, somberly, lost in thought. “They’ve awoken, have they?”
“Indeed, Your Grace. The dragons haven’t threatened war, but they’re certainly agitated. Any further encroachments on their lands would be ill-advised.”
“Greedy snakes!” Her goblet rocketed through the hall and clattered to the ground, masking all but her fuming as she rose shakily to her hooves. “My father should’ve slain them all when he had the chance, just as he did Furoros! I would see our coffers filled to the brim with their stolen spoils, and the treasury walls draped in their very hides! I would... I would have them all...” She fell back to her cushion with a plop, reaching for Clover’s goblet with an undeniable desperation. Clover obliged, holding her goblet to Platinum’s lips until she’d had her fill. Platinum swallowed a mouthful, snapped her lips, and let all the air come rushing from her lungs in a deep sigh. “I would have them all slain, I would...”
“Enough,” Clover interjected, tucking her into her cloak. “Calm thyself, milady! Now is not the time for anger! ‘Tis a time for rationality, and none can be found in such talk!”
“You’re right, my love. Forgive me...” She rose slowly back to her seat, eyeing Penny with a heavy heart. “And you, dissuade your princess not! The castle stands, and I beside it, with or without those fools! Trouble me not with more talk of it! It only pains me to think on it.”
“She meant not to offend,” Clover said softly. “She worries for us, as I do. Any idea to save us is one worth listening to, no?”
"Any? Will anything suffice for us now?” She rose to her hooves once more, pushing aside Clover’s hoof with a stubborn, vigorous energy. Slowly she stood, proud and defined, her father’s heir in body and spirit. “There was a time not too long before yours when we took pride in our work, when we rescued a nation from the brink of despair and brought about days of wealth and prosperity! There was once a day when these walls were draped in gold, when songs of valor rang from the rafters and made our hearts soar! There was a time when honesty and strength prevailed! When beauty and grandeur were common to all! When our borders were defended and our citizens safe! But those days are gone, squandered bit by bit and luxury by luxury, with every fruitless donation and futile supplication. To allow it free trespass any longer? To pass it over for Earth pony squalor or pegasi greed? For dragon’s fire or a blizzard’s chill?! Bah! A fool's thought, and a traitor's practice! I would rather die than see us wallow in pity! I would have us reunite, take back what’s ours, and let civility usher in a new dawn!”
A few defiant breaths left her powerless, and with a hearty sigh she fell back into her cushion, panting heavily. Penny stood stock-still as Clover rushed to Platinum’s side. Another dose of wine helped Platinum wrangle her breathing enough for Clover to be satisfied. “What has possessed you, Your Grace? What ailment vexes you so, to make you say such things?”
Princess Platinum said nothing at first. Then, with a defeated grumble, her guard dropped. “It’s the damn Seven, child. When has it ever not been because of them that I worry so? Every night I wish I had my father’s patience for them, but every time Lord Portentous opens his mouth I find reason to find myself cheated.”
Clover rolled her eyes. “What has he said now?”
“Only that which we’ve heard innumerable times: that my actions have been substandard in light of this storm; that the citizenry’s best interests are in his heart; and that only the Council of Seven, in all their ‘wisdom’, should be allowed to shape laws as it was before my father. The only thing that worm can truly conjure is empty lies! If I hear another false accusation against either my father’s character or my own escape his lips, I swear I’ll rip that silly cape from his hide and choke him with it!”
A little part of Clover couldn’t help but smile at that. “You would find yourself cheated all the more, princess, without the satisfaction of watching him fail of his own ambition.”
A little glimmer shone somewhere deep in Platinum's eyes. She adjusted herself in her throne, a devilish smile growing on her wrinkled lips. “Such a clever girl you are, for saying thus. Know you why I’ve asked you here, love? Why I have ripped you from your chambers to enjoy my company?”
Clover didn’t know, for if not the ruling just exacted there was little else to denote another motive. Penny, too, seemed confused, but as the pointed silence grew her eyes lit up. The memory of Penny’s rumor returned. It’s actually happening, Clover thought, just as Penny said it would! She stilled her rushing heart with a shake of her head. Answer honestly. ‘Tis what any High Consul would do.
“I can’t be sure, Your Grace.”
Princess Platinum turned to look at Penny. “Have you an idea?”
Penny bowed. “I can only speculate, but if my suspicions are correct: there’s an important appointment you wish to make.”
“Quite right! Quite right...” Slowly Princess Platinum rose from her seat, eschewing Clover’s guiding hoof in favor of her own. Once she was stable, she paced slowly around the throne and down the dais steps. Clover and Penny followed close behind, looking at each other with an unbearable excitement.
Her rumor is proving true!
Princess Platinum lumbered slowly for the padded seat at the head of a long wooden table below her father's glass image, plopping herself down with a sigh. Penny drifted her decanter and her goblet to her side, waiting until she’d poured her princess another glass before taking a seat beside her. “What is the nature of your appointment, milady?”
“One long overdue,” Platinum replied, ushering them to their seats. They flanked her and held their goblets carefully, lest their excitement threaten to spill them. “I have been in consideration over this for many a night, running it over in my head for a flaw... but once I saw you, I found my worries fleeting and my trepidation dashed. Your opinion of our High Magister only sealed my decision. I know it is the proper course.”
“What is?”
Princess Platinum drifted her goblet to her lips, took a sip, then replaced it on the table with a twinkle in her eyes. She looked to Clover with all the love in the world. “Tell me, my dearest, what you know of the Council.”
“The Council?” Clover looked to Penny, then back to Princess Platinum. “The Council of Seven is the well from which every ruler of the Gilded Lands draws clear guidance.”
“‘Tis hogwash,” Platinum blurted. “They’re a blight, dear girl, and you know it. Tell me not what I want to hear, but the truth, just as you have these many years. What do you know of them?”
Clover gulped down some air. Not a great start. “Long have their words been in service to the crown. Before your father and his father before him, they served as the voices of the Seven Keeps, each in service to its own ruler yet in deference to the king or queen most qualified to rule. Your father—May his rest be warm!—united them and their associated kings during the war against Furoros. They have since been advisors to your bloodline—”
“A bloodline that ends with me. The shortest dynasty that ever was, hmm? Such is the pity of a princess married solely to her nation: I am to drown in the promise of an heirless death.”
“Say not such things, milady! You have many a year in you yet! Spend not a second on such thoughts, they’ll only drive you mad!”
“What drives me mad is that bloody council. My father knew them all too well, well enough to ignore them in favor of what was right. He suffered, yes, but his suffering brought about true greatness.” She drew her eyes and her goblet to the figure of the stallion bravely looming overhead. “I can only hope to understand your decisions ere too long, father.”
“You are as wise and as just a monarch as he,” Penny stated plainly, “and far more beauteous.”
Princess Platinum, with an eyebrow mischievously cocked, patted Penny on the hoof and gave her a sly smile. “Flattery, eh? Delightful! You’ve a shrewd mind for tricks, my dear. You’ll prove useful yet!”
“Of what use might I be?”
“Of the kind most imperative!” She gestured them closer. “Long have the stations of the Seven been in service to the many leaders of this great empire. It was only until my father united us under one banner that their voices, no longer in seven parts, sounded in one great harmonious clamor. They were essential at first, but time and tide has given their motives to rot and their ambitions to themselves. Most no longer seek to aide, but to secure for themselves a portion of our great legacy. Be it wealth or knowledge, they seek to steal rather than supply. They know the hourglass is running out. It was they who set it in motion.” She looked to the windows. “Whatever devil my father awakened when he speared that great lizard haunts us still. If today’s ruling was any sign, the power we have over this storm is dwindling. We won’t last the year. I feel it in my bones.”
“I thought the Council had enough magic to stave off the coming storms!”
“In times long gone, yes... but no longer. The age when the Seven held the world in their magic is gone, given up for greed and selfishness. I have done what I can to control them, but I cannot split myself in seven. I need eyes, and the words to turn those eyes to our common plight.” She turned to Clover. “That is why I’ve called you here, love. I have a task for you, one which will reinvigorate the Seven and bring about the summer we’ve always wished for.”
Clover perked her ears, but as she stared into her princess’s eyes she found something wholly unexpected: sadness. There was an emptiness there, a longing to remain closeby even though they were but inches apart. Protest though she might, the decision had already been made, and a mind as tough as hers was not to be swayed so easily. Clover felt a cold lump rise in her throat. “You... You want me to leave you?”
“Only for a time. You must be in service to another until such time as I require you again.”
Penny looked to her friend, then down to her hooves. Clover caught her tongue, took a deep breath, and shook her head. “I... I can’t, milady! I want to remain here with you!”
“What you want is not what this nation needs, love.”
“But what about what you need? Long have I been your eyes and ears, giving to you only my honest guidance. We’ve suffered much this Long Winter, but I’ve never once steered you wrong, not since the day you found me! Why now? What have I done, to make you punish me so?”
Princess Platinum rose from her place, and as she did whatever warmth lingered around the table drew itself to the far corners of the hall. Her eyes flashed to Penny. “Leave us, dear. Await our guests by the door. I’ll call you when Miss Clover and I have finished.”
Penny did as she was told. She spared one last glance at Clover, then trotted off to the far end of the hall to exact her princess’s command. Clover remained in her place, shivering horribly. “I didn’t mean to offend, Your Grace...”
“You haven’t. Never once have I needed to correct you on your courtesies to me, but I will remind you that I am not to be disobeyed, least of all by my own advisor, and especially in public. Do I make myself clear?”
Clover nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am...”
“Very well.” Seconds passed in silence before Princess Platinum was able to release her weariness with a sigh. “Long have we been together, you and I. Since the very day I found you, not a day has passed that hasn't seen you right there at my side.” Her hoof brushed Clover’s cheek, resting there with the softness of silk. “Have I ever given you reason not to love me, Clover dear?”
Clover held her hoof closer. “Never, milady. I just don’t want to leave you!”
“This castle isn’t so very big, my love. I’ll always be closeby.”
“It’s not that...” Clover could feel the ridges of Platinum’s wrinkled skin beneath her own supple hoof. “I... I fear for your health, milady. I have always been there to care for your ills, but—”
“But nothing,” Platinum said, shaking her head. “If I can care for my father’s lands, I can care for myself. Worry about me not.”
Clover nodded, reassured, but still the tears came freely. “I... I would never forgive myself if you came to harm!”
Princess Platinum thought a moment, then gave her Clover a little nuzzle. “Then worry not. I know how you might aid me and exact my will as well.”
Clover finally relaxed. They rested together a moment before Platinum gave her a little kiss on the nose. “I couldn’t love you more even if you were of my own flesh and blood. Know this always.”
“I do, milady. I do.”
“Good.” She gave her one last pat on the cheek before resting back in her seat. “Hate me not for what I must do. Know that I send you not from my side because I want to, but because I must. There is a task to which you must attend, one that requires your brilliant mind and your dedication. It is one I will entrust to Penny as well, when I call her here. For all the love you have for me, do as I say. All will become clear ere long.”
Clover brushed away a tear and nodded her agreement. They shared a loving smile. Then, with a last little wink, Princess Platinum turned towards Penny and waved her closer. “Come hither, child, and quickly! Our guests will arrive at any moment!”
Penny trotted back to her place, looking at Clover and the wetness of her cheek curiously. Clover waved her concern aside, turning to Princess Platinum with a grin. “What would you have us do, milady?”
“This council has long been winding itself on a course for ruin. It is dying, slowly but surely, and its death threatens to bring this nation down with it. I refuse to let that happen. Instead of prolonging the inevitable, I have called you here to charge you with a singular goal.”
Penny looked to her curiously. “What would you ask of us?”
“I would ask you to help kill the Council of Seven.”
Penny and Clover reeled with shock. “Murder, milady?!”
“Nothing of the sort!” She looked to them both, saw the fear in their eyes, and let out a rich peal of laughter. “Though I hate the Council, that is too quick and painless a sentence! I seek instead to let it die of its own actions. You shall act as the rudder that steers it to its fate, and the sails to bring it about with all haste.”
“I don’t understand,” Penny whispered. “You want Clover and I to bring down the Council?”
“It has brought itself to its own ruin. I seek merely to have replacements ready when it falls.”
Breathlessly Clover and Penny looked to one another. “We... We’re to be on the Council?”
“In due time. First, you must be my hoof and will in a place where neither are respected. You are not alone in this mission. You will have aid of a kind most invaluable.”
“What aid, milady?”
Platinum said nothing, for another sound answered in her stead: a knocking, one which prefaced the creaking of the throne room door and the glittering of multi-colored magics. Two unicorns stepped through the threshold, looking first to the throne and then to the place where Platinum sat waving them closer. Clover and Penny watched them with awe.
She can’t be serious...
“I’m sure you know their names,” Platinum began calmly. “But if not, allow me the honor of acquainting you with your new tutors.” She ushered a short, portly gentlecolt with a far-too-tight vest to the seat beside Penny. “Miss Penny, may I introduce to you Lord Prospero, President of the Golden Bank and High Chancellor of the Exchequer.”
Penny’s eyes went blank. “My lord! I... I haven’t... You’re—”
“Take a breath, my dear,” he said lovingly, taking her hoof in his. He planted a sloppy kiss on it, staring into her eyes as though they’d been apart for many lifetimes. “The honor is all mine, truly! I’ve heard stories of your wit and wisdom, but none of your beauty!” He held her hoof tightly, his cheeks rose-red. “I feel we’ll get along immensely! Don’t you agree?”
His words were like honey, but the grip he had on Penny’s hoof was unpleasantly sticky. Though he spoke well, Clover couldn’t help but feel a bit disgusted. He doesn’t act this way with every mare, does he?
“My lord, ‘tis an honor!” Penny said, shaking his hoof furiously. “I’ve been a secretary of the bank for many years, but I never once imagined I might meet you!”
“Then rejoice, for I have come!” Giggling cheerily, he summoned a rich golden goblet from thin air to partake in the wine close-at-hoof. “A toast: to a long, happy relationship with my new partner-in-crime!”
“Keep your voice down.”
Clover turned to the source of the noise and jumped as her eyes fell on a pure snow-white mare standing behind her. She was as silent as a ghost, and nearly as pale, but the way she spoke betrayed a wisdom beyond words. Tired crimson eyes panned slowly over the table, weighed down with what felt like years beyond measure. Though she listened intently, Clover didn’t hear a sound as the towering mare slid into the seat beside her. “My name is Lady Prudentia,” the mare said, her voice a whisper. “I am honored to finally meet you. Our princess has spoken highly of you.”
“She hasn’t spoken of you at all,” Clover blurted. A wave of regret washed her over. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be so rude! It’s just... I... I don’t know who you are.”
“This is my Grand Archivist,” Platinum stated. “She’s responsible for our empire’s historical records. She is also the Headmistress of the Royal Academy. You may never have met her, but she presided over the school while you were a student.”
Clover’s jaw dropped. “You’re the Wisp...”
Her thin lips spread into a tiny smile. “Children are more honest than adults, I’ve found, even in their insults. Though some might take offense, I adore the implication of my condition's moniker, for in my studies I seek to guide our future with deference to our glorious past. We are our history, young one. It is up to us to preserve it.”
“You will be her associate,” Platinum said plainly, “just as you, Penny, will be Lord Prospero’s. They are to be your guides, and you their aides, united in the goal of bringing some stability to the Council.”
Penny leaned forward. “Forgive my boldness, Your Grace, and with all due respect to our guests: how can we bring stability to a council if nearly a third of its members are against it? A table cannot stand on two legs.”
“Well, my dear, I’m glad you brought that up!” Lord Prospero, with many a grunt, rifled through the pockets of his vest and extracted a heavy, ornate golden key. He handed it to Penny with a grin. “Don’t lose this, love.”
“What is this?”
“The Key to the Golden Bank.”
She dropped it as though it had caught fire, scrambling on the floor to recover it lest it fall from memory completely. She held it close to her heart, staring at it as though it were the most beautiful and dangerous thing in the world. “My lord, I... You... You mustn’t give me this! Take it back, please! It’s too much!”
“I shan’t.” He drew close, his bubbly airs turning flat. “This is yours, for in it lies all of us. To you, your Princess Platinum and I have entrusted the literal key to our future. You and your friend have within you everything our nation needs to survive: sound judgment, clear intentions, and honest hearts. I give you this key in the hopes you might give it to another, and they to another, onwards and upwards until the end of time so that our beloved Gilded Lands shine forevermore. Every bit that enters and leaves this nation is now under your surveyance and protection. Look upon it, knowing what you know now, and understand the gravity of what we ask of you.”
The full gamut of reactions flashed through her eyes one-by-one, but after a long while she breathed a sigh of resignation. She quickly pocketed the key and returned to him, nodding more for herself than him. Her hoof never left her pocket. "I... I am deeply humbled that you should choose me for this, milord."
"Thank our lovely princess," he said, toasting Platinum. "It was by her recommendation."
“And it was by her same recommendation that I should give you this.” Lady Prudentia moved in close to Clover and levitated a chain from her pocket. Dangling at its end was a little silver key, well-worn and polished to a shine. She fastened it around her neck, admiring it fondly as it rested over Clover’s quickly-beating heart. “Just as every banker needs his secretary, every teacher needs an assistant, and just as I watched over you in your education, so you shall watch over our next generation in theirs.” She bowed her head slightly. “Congratulations, Deputy Headmistress!”
Clover didn’t know what to say, and as the seconds passed in silence that fact was clear to all. “I know this is a lot to process,” Platinum whispered, gripping Clover’s hoof. “But I have all the confidence in the world that you’ll succeed.”
“I don’t think I have much of a choice.”
“We all have a choice,” Lady Prudentia said quietly. “Every soul that is, was, or will be must decide for themselves the path they take. History has proven it so, and the future will prove it right. Lord Prospero, Princess Platinum, and myself have chosen to give rise to a world free from the chains of inaction. We may die before it’s completed, but we will not be dying quietly."
Platinum nodded her agreement. Lord Prospero muttered a little ‘here here’ under his breath and drained his goblet. Penny had eyes only for Clover, eyes laced with fear and excitement both. Clover looked to the key bumping against her chest, feeling its ridges and the slowly-warming steel. She looked up at Platinum. “Is this truly your will, Your Grace?”
Princess Platinum gave her a wink. “It is, my love.”
“Then your will be done.”
They shared a round of smiles, their intention plain to see, their eyes wreathed in kindness. With a flash of magic several more goblets popped to life. Lord Prospero and his new aide Penny filled them each to their brim, floating them to their intended guests. He raised his goblet to the image of Prince Palladium overhead. “To a new world!”
They rose, lifting their goblets alongside his. Gold and steel clinked together, sealing their oath for the empty chamber to hear: “To a new world!”
They drained their glasses, settled in their seats, and allowed the truth of their mission to sink in. Then, with a sly little smirk, Princess Platinum leaned forward. She gave Clover a smile.
“How shall we begin?”
Words rose in Clover’s throat, but they never came out. Something frigid gripped its talons around her stomach, pushing the blood from her body in a muffled wave. It yanked, and stole her breath away. The throne room slid away from Twilight’s grasp, roaring with sound and fury, frothing with a roaring fire. She reached out, but there would be nothing to slow her down. Before she knew, the world was stripped away, leaving her surrounded once more in the crushing white silence.
She felt her hoof shake...

“Milady, wake up!”
Twilight churned in her semi-sleep. Not yet, she thought. Just a few more minutes...
The voice grew louder: “Milady, please wake up!”
She rolled over, opening her eyes slowly to find a worried Compass Rose. There was something in his eyes that woke her up faster than the ice water from her newest memory. “What’s wrong, Rosy?”
“It’s... I don’t... We’re...”
“Calm down,” Twilight said, rising from the wagon. With a little kick she collapsed her miniature tent, allowing the sunlight free entrance into her cozy domain.
Twilight paused.
Sunlight?
“How long have I been out, Rosy?”
“Hours and hours! You were twitching and churning, so we waited and waited but... but you didn't wake! I... I didn’t know what to do!”
“Calm down, Rosy,” she said, holding his shoulders. “Take a deep breath, please! You’re starting to scare me.”
“I’m sorry, but I... I just...” Her order finally hit home. He strangled a breath, held it for a brief moment, then let it come roaring out. He performed the ritual again, but nothing different came of it. He gave it up with a frustrated stamp of his hoof. “You don’t understand, there’s something wrong!”
“What’s wrong?”
“The sun! It shouldn’t be... It’s been so long—”
Twilight pressed a hoof to his lips, silencing him in a swift movement. He ceased to speak, or even to breathe, staring at her in terror. Slowly, she became aware of the world beyond the two of them; of Vanguard, free from the harness, talking in hushed tones with Summer. The latter nodded, looking over at Compass Rose and Twilight before heeding Vanguard's words again. Twilight flicked her eyes over to Penumbra to find her alone, her chains still tight about her hooves, her muzzle fastened, her eyes closed. She sat on her haunches, her back blazing bright red, rocking to and fro in a trance. The muscles bulging from her neck pulsed uncomfortably. She was talking, mumbling, but only to herself. About what Twilight couldn’t be sure. What was clear was the lack of any shadows. Twilight looked up.
The sun hadn’t moved an inch.
“Rosy... What’s going on?”He never got the chance to respond. Vanguard issued a rally bark, cracking the air like a thunderbolt. Before Twilight knew, Summer had rocketed to the wagon and alighted beside her, tearing through its contents with an unspoken desperation. She didn’t seem to acknowledge Twilight. Her eyes were on a different prize. With a dextrous flick she ripped a spear from the wagon’s depths and sent it sailing to the ground. It quivered in the earth, but not nearly as much as Compass Rose. Another rustle, and a quiver of arrows slammed against Rosy’s chest, followed quickly by his bronze-handled bow. Then, with a great grunt, she pulled Vanguard’s halberd from the wagon and chucked it to her commander, who caught it in his magic and rested it on his shoulder. With the blink of eye she was back at her commander’s side, her spear resting in her hooves, her wings at full span, readied for anything.
Twilight jumped from the wagon, running to Vanguard. “Colonel, what’s going on?”
He did little more than heft his halberd to a better angle. Her eyes flicked to Summer, only to find her just as silent as he. She returned to him, advancing. “Colonel, I demand you tell me what’s going on!”
He never responded. His eyes were only for Penumbra.
Twilight turned around. Penumbra sat at her place beside the wagon, her throat still whispering her little mumbled secrets, her eyes wide open. She did nothing but stare, her eyes more red than yellow, the corner of her muzzled mouth stretching into a smile.
He’s coming.
Twilight froze as a voice unknown whispered in her brain. The world went silent. The teeming life of the plains died away, their chirps and clicks smothered in an instant. Penumbra’s smile widened. Her belly roiled as she began to cackle uproariously. She locked eyes with Twilight, held her to her place, laughed and sputtered with glee as her eyes—those limitless, crimson eyes—flashed in the colors of her master.
He’s coming!The voice pounded once more. Twilight found herself shaking uncontrollably. The voice... That was her...
“How...”
She stopped dead. Penumbra howled to the sun with utter joy, her giggling morphing into a scream of triumph. She rose fully, balanced on her hindlegs, screaming praises to the sky. The horizon.
Something.
Slowly, Twilight looked over Penumbra’s shoulder, finding in a cold wave the object of her adoration. Her lungs clenched. The breath in her throat went cold. She could only stare.
The moon...
]Slowly, carefully, a tiny sliver of light broke over the horizon. Twilight fell back, breathless, her eyes following Luna’s moon as it panned slowly into the sky. With every inch gained Penumbra laughed harder, her screams and cries of joy magnified as the world became even more silent. Twilight couldn’t move. She couldn’t breath. This... This isn’t possible...
Before she could comprehend it, she’d rushed to Penumbra, her teeth bared in rage. “What are you doing to her?! What are you doing to Luna?! Tell me, now!!!"
Penumbra only laughed harder, breathlessly exalted, her eyes rolling in their sockets. “He’s come! He’s come! Lord, find your daughter! Make slick the plains with my libations! Come! Gather your crop, and your faithful daughter too! Come! Come! Come!!!"
A punch slammed into her cheek, but Penumbra was undaunted. Another zealous cry broke through her throat: “Come for me, lord! Come for your daughter!”
"You’re not his daughter! You’re nothing! Nothing!!!"
“Milady!”
Soft hooves wrapped around Twilight’s belly and pulled her away. Turning, she found a scared Summer holding her tight. No matter how she struggled to be free, Summer held her close. “She’s torturing her,” Twilight screamed, her voice wet with tears. “She’s torturing Luna, Summer! Let me go! Please, let me go!”
Summer stiffened her trembling lips and held on tighter.
“I demand you let me go, now! She’s killing her, can’t you see?! She’s killing her!!!"
Another peal of laughter broke from Penumbra’s lips. “Your promise came true, lord,” she screamed, the sky her audience. Her words formed a chant, her swaying giving it life: “Bless us with her blood, lord! Bless us with her blood!”
Twilight struggled furiously. Summer only held her tighter. Her pleas became screams: “Please! You can’t let her do this! Let me go! I have to save her! Please!!!”
Summer only cried and shook her head. The moon rose still. From over her shoulder, Twilight watched as Rosy jumped to their side, standing upright, his wings and bow at full draw. Vanguard, too, leaped forward, his halberd’s glimmering point a jewel of death. Summer remained, holding Twilight close, pouring herself into keeping her bucking princess contained. Twilight let out another scream, beating her captor’s hooves with an unbridled savagery. Summer remained, her smile pained, her cheeks wet with tears.
The chanting ceased.
Twilight opened her eyes. Penumbra stood alone, her hooves outstretched to herald the moon. Her eyes were closed with utter bliss, her muzzle flashing in the dull moonlight. Her muscles eased. Twilight looked to the sun.
The world turned as red as blood.
Darkness enshrouded the land. The once-blue sky ran crimson. The bloody plains churned in the whipping wind. There was no sun nor moon, but both. Neither. Only an infinitely dark abyss, a puncture wound in the sky. Summer’s grip eased, but Twilight could fight no longer. There was nothing left within her save fear.
Penumbra let her hooves fall to her sides. Standing still, she turned and gave Twilight a little glare.
He’s come.
This time, the voice hadn’t been Penumbra’s. It had belonged to the Shadow himself, spoken with an unnatural ease. Spoken as though he resided in her brain, whispering his truths for her alone. Twilight rose to her hooves. Vanguard stepped to her side, his halberd held mercilessly before them.
“Your Highness?”
She stiffened her stance, her head raised in defiance, her eyes watching the horizon. Slowly the shimmering mirror of heat slid away as the earth turned cold. The world revealed itself. She looked towards the newly revealed mountains, the shadow of the Dimlight Moor crouched at its feet, the plains glittering below...
The glint of a castle’s spire...
Vanguard held his head lower. “Milady, what would you have us do?”
Twilight took a deep breath. Let the fear come, she thought. Let it come. Her heart thumped madly in her throat. Her mind raced with fleeting horrors. She took another breath. Sombra’s voice screamed once more, resonating in her mind. She let it wash over her, run rampant through her bloodstream, let it permeate into every capillary and every vein.
Let it come.
She looked to the far-away castle—the long-awaited Pyrewood Keep—and the leagues of unconquered savannah between them. The shining husks of wild oats flashed in the sun’s diffuse sanguine light like rubies on a crown, filling the distance like a road to safety. The wind whipped up, but they never moved. They remained in their places, stolid and immovable.
Eyes. Hundreds of eyes.
Twilight turned to Vanguard.

“Run.”