//------------------------------// // Rising Shadows 9 // Story: The Lunar Rebellion // by Chengar Qordath //------------------------------// I remained in seclusion for the rest of that day, and all the next. Officially, I was occupied with planning for the prisoner exchange and the future of the war effort. In truth, I was recentering myself. I cannot deny that Cyclone’s death had shaken me, especially as ‘twas plain to see that I had played a part in it. I had yet to reconcile with mine own daughter o’er the matter; the pain was still too fresh for us to speak on it without causing further troubles. As the following day waned, someone knocked upon the entrance to my quarters. I opened the door and found young Midnight standing uncomfortably close to the entrance, staring up at me with somewhat unnerving intensity. The child was silent for several moments, then slowly blinked, cocking her head to the side like a bird that had spotted a particularly appetizing morsel of food. “Milady Shadow, Mother requests your presence in the throne room. She is quarreling with Her Majesty again and asks that you come to her aid in making the queen see reason.” She paused, and her lips creased in an annoyed frown. “In truth, her language was considerably less polite than that, but she has stated that I am not permitted to use such words, e’en though she does so readily enough when she wishes to. This strikes me as most unfair, but Mother has informed me that children must follow rules that do not bind their elders.” I paid little mind to the girl’s complaints, for ‘twas the first part of her statement that commanded mine attention. Given their differing outlooks, ‘twas no surprise to learn that Sunbeam was in the midst of a disagreement with the Commander. That she would call upon me to aid her, howe’er, was an unexpected development. I was still adjusting to the idea of seeing Sunbeam as an ally and was ill at ease with the idea that she would see fit to call upon mine aid ‘gainst the Commander. Regardless of such worries, an argument ‘tween the Commander and Sunbeam seemed a matter requiring mine intervention. Better to resolve it lest they be seen quarreling and become a source of idle gossip. In the midst of siege, ‘twas of the utmost importance that we presented a unified front whate’er our personal differences. Midnight’s head slowly tilted in the other direction, a faintly bemused frown upon her face. “Shall I escort you to my mother and Her Majesty? I have been practicing a spell to protect me from the elements and can offer it to you as well.” Ah yes, the rain. I had almost forgotten that ‘twas a constant feature of Canterlot now. I hardly needed a magic spell—a little rain was no concern for a warrior of Pegasopolis—but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless. E’en if a little rain was of no consequence to me, ‘twould no doubt please young Midnight to provide the service. I am also not so vain in my stoicism that I would subject myself to needless discomfort, howe’er minor. Howe’er, judging by the damp state of her mane, she had yet to fully master the spell in any case. “My thanks to thee for thine offer. Please, lead the way.” Midnight answered with a nod and a polite curtsey. “Please follow me, milady.” She turned about and set a course for the exit to my clanhold. As we emerged outside, her horn briefly lit, and I noted a faint distortion in the air which redirected the rain. ‘Twas far from perfect, but it did spare the child a measure of the rain. I glanced down at the ground and was unsurprised to see that the heavy rain had rendered the turf quite muddy. Though I am not so shallow as to be upset by a little mud, ‘twould hardly do to track it into the Commander’s palace. Especially when I could so easily avoid doing so through the use of my wings, though flying in such heavy rain would be a trial. Young Midnight, however, lacked that advantage. She glanced down at the mud and let out a pained sigh. “And just after I cleaned my hooves ere I entered your clanhold...” She frowned down at the mud for some time, then glanced up to me. “Milady, I would not normally ask such a boon of you, but I do not wish to dirty myself on the journey to the palace. Is it possible you could render me aid in reaching the palace unsoiled?” I saw no reason not to grant her request, and I dropped to my knees to allow her to settle onto my back. It took a few moments for her to arrange herself into a position that was secure and comfortable for the both of us without impeding my wings, but soon enough she was settled and I took to the skies. The child’s weight was a burden, but a relatively minor one. Once I had established a comfortable rhythm that kept us near enough to the ground that she would not be unsettled, I spared a glance back at my passenger. “Thou art well, child?” “Aye.” Her grip briefly tightened around me as she glanced down at the ground beneath us. “I do not think you will let me plummet to my doom to dash my brains out ‘pon the rocks below. The battle two days ago also ended without Mother being impaled on a lance, having her head bashed in by a hammer hoof, or having some other form of death or injury inflicted 'pon her, so I am happy for that as well. I am also pleased that Gale survived the battle, though I fear ‘twill be some time before we can have another tea party. She may never have the chance to learn of Lord Lordington of Lordsdale’s newest dastardly scheme to implement jus primae noctis so that he might bed several of the realm’s more attractive women.” (1) 1: Jus primae noctis was a supposed custom allowing a noble to take the virginity of any of their subjects. Despite popular belief to the contrary, there are no records of such a law existing— the common theory is that was either invented as a propaganda claim against the nobility or was born out of exaggerated rumors of actual noble practices. It certainly wasn’t unusual for nobles to have brief dalliances with the youngest and most attractive of their subjects, or for them to take advantage of their positions to allow such liaisons. ‘Twould seem that Midnight’s imagination remained as morbid as ever. For lack of a better response, I simply acknowledged her words. “Yes, I suppose thou wouldst be glad of a chance to play with my daughter once more. And glad that thy mother lives.” “As are you, I am sure.” Midnight regarded me unblinkingly. “Mother says that you have grown closer to her in recent days. Regardless, you would know well the pain I avoided due to what happened to your own father.” Her words nearly unsettled me enough to take me from the sky. I suppose I should not have been taken so badly by surprise, but those few of my clan I had spoken to since learning of his death had been more cautious in discussing his demise. As always, Midnight was either far bolder than she had any right to be or so strange of mind that she did not grasp why ‘twas not appropriate to speak of such things. Regardless of which it was, mine answer remained the same. “Cyclone Kicker lost his right to that title.” The young girl was silent for some time, probably mulling over my response. “I was not aware a pony could lose that title. At least, I have not read or heard of such a law or tradition. 'Tis unique to the pegasi, yes?” I found that curious, for I was quite certain unicorns had disowned members of their own families in the past under similar circumstances. (2) “It is not unheard of for family members to be disowned for high crimes or treason.” 2: While Shadow is correct, the actual details of the process differed between unicorn and pegasus. To summarize, while a disowned unicorn would be denied any inheritance, resources, or status, unicorns believed that the private family relationship endured. In fact, many of the more infamous criminals and traitors within the Unicornian nobility ended their days quietly under house arrest in one of their family’s lesser estates, effectively enjoying a comfortable retirement. Midnight lapsed into silence once more. When at last she spoke, her words took me unawares. “Strange, that the pegasi would do such a thing. What high crime did Cyclone Kicker commit to earn such a sentence?” I stared back at the girl, quite flummoxed by a question with so obvious an answer. “He betrayed the Commander.” Midnight wasn’t satisfied with mine answer. “How so? I was told that Queen Celestia was lawfully removed as commander of Pegasopolis. And near as I know, your father was not e’en involved in that vote.” I felt a moment of irritation with her, though I quickly suppressed it. ‘Twould seem that for all her oddities and intellect, Midnight was yet a child. “Commander Celestia’s removal was improper. Beyond that, he participated in a war to usurp her rightful authority and oust her from the throne of Unicornia and leadership of Equestria, neither of which the Ephorate has any right to do.” Midnight paused long enough that I returned mine attention to flight, and I had nearly forgotten her presence when at last she spoke. “Ah, I believe I understand now. You mean that he betrayed her in spirit, but not legally?” That seemed a close enough answer for my purposes and would at least spare me any more of her questions on the matter. I was less than eager to discuss Cyclone, especially with a child. “Aye, I suppose so.” “Ah, so that is the way of it.” Unfortunately, the silence that followed was rather shorter than I had hoped ‘twould be. “But that still leaves me confused. I can understand disowning him for legal reasons, but not for what you are describing. This sounds like a disagreement between family members rather than a legal matter. I have disagreed with Mother about how much ice cream I should be allowed to eat, and whether pink skulls are appropriate decor for a young filly’s room, but neither of these things made me e’en consider disowning her. And Gale has not disowned you, e’en though there are times when she disagrees with you. Despite the fact that she is most wroth with you right now, she still names you as her mother.” Once more I found myself growing choleric with her. As if Cyclone’s actions and a disagreement o’er sweets were e’en remotely comparable. “He also sundered my clan to begin this war of treason and attempted to usurp my position as materfamilias. I only hope that with his passing the rift might finally be healed, and my clan will be united once more.” Moments after the words left my lips, I wished I could withdraw them. For all that duty required that I scorn him, I confess that with his passing I was ill at ease with the idea that Cyclone was naught to me but a traitor and enemy. For all that politics and ideals had turned us against one another, ‘twas difficult not to recall better times and wish for a return to them. Perhaps that is the curse of loyalty, to be split in twain when that loyalty is divided. Still, better to bear that curse than to live without honor. Midnight shifted about on my back. “I see. May I ask a question?” I gave her my permission. “Were it not for your actions, your father would still be alive. Are you uncomfortable with being a kinslayer?” “Mind thy words, child!” Were it not for the awkwardness of managing such an action whilst flying, I likely would have cuffed her head for speaking with such an uncivil tongue. I was sorely tempted to land so that I might box her ears for such impudence. Howe’er, I rather doubt Sunbeam would appreciate her daughter being treated so roughly, deserved though it might be. The child flinched and shrank as much as she could whilst remaining upon my back. “My most sincere apologies, Lady Shadow. I was merely...” She very carefully considered her next words, likely searching for the best way to express herself without further angering me. “I was merely attempting to gain a clear and accurate understanding of the situation. I beg your forgiveness if I have caused any offense, ‘twas not mine intention.” I briefly closed mine eyes and took several breaths, reining in my wrathful impulses. ‘Twas far from the first time Midnight’s innocent curiosity had caused her to stick a hoof into an open wound. There was no malice to it, simply an inability to understand why her words were so hurtful. Once I had my temper in check, I offered her mine answer. “Thou art forgiven, child. But do not speak thusly to me again. I will have words with thy mother on this matter.” The girl quailed at that far more than she had at mine own anger. What I had seen of Sunbeam’s child-rearing methods inclined me to think she was every bit as harsh and demanding as a warrior of Pegasopolis would be. Midnight would not enjoy whatever punishment her mother felt appropriate for gravely offending a vital ally. She did not speak again for the remainder of our flight, and when we arrived at the palace itself, she wordlessly slid off of my back and withdrew to an appropriate distance. She began to dutifully lead me towards the throne room, but paused and glanced over her shoulder. “I apologize once more for my poorly chosen words. I think I can understand some of your troubles. I would be conflicted if I discovered that my mother had betrayed Queen Celestia. Howe’er, e’en if she did such a thing, she would still be my mother.” Her eyes darkened, and a hint of a growl entered her voice. “I have had to listen to more than one pony say that Mother is a traitor for one thing or another, real or imaginary. I do not care for such talk, though there is little I can do to stop it.” Though there had been a time when I would have suspected much the same of Sunbeam, such days were long past. Though I had not forgotten her flaws, my time in Canterlot had allowed me to see that she was not without virtues to balance them. “I have heard such talk as well. I judge it baseless. Thy mother is ambitious, but within reason.” Midnight offered a ponderously slow nod. “Aye. If Mother had decided to launch a coup, everypony would either be calling her Queen Sunbeam, or she would be hanging from a gibbet for the sport of the crows. Or perhaps traded to the rebels, for I suspect they hate her e’en more than they do the Queen herself.” Her head cocked to the side as she idly studied one of the palace’s many decorations. “Also, I do not think Her Majesty would tolerate it if Mother were plotting against her. Mother has also said such a thing would be foolish for her to attempt, especially when the Queen’s melancholy has often allowed her to be the true ruler regardless of who wears the crown.” That much was certainly true. Since learning the depths of her melancholy, I had to wonder if ‘twould not be better for the Commander to appoint a regent for the moment. Whilst the war made such a thing impossible for now, if she remained so paralyzed by mourning her sister and the war in general, then perhaps ‘twould be best if she took the time needed to properly face that pain rather than attempt to carry on as though all were well. Though such thoughts brought me uncomfortably near mine own circumstances regarding Cyclone; as Sunbeam had informed me earlier, our cause could ill afford to have another of its leaders fall into depression. I turned the child, mine own internal doubts made plain by my next question. “Thou wouldst still love her as thy mother, though? Regardless of her actions?” Midnight answered me without a moment of hesitation or doubt. “She is my mother. Of course I would love her e’en if she became a vile traitor or warlock.” She paused and shifted her hooves, refusing to meet mine eyes. “Though I would prefer her not to be a traitor. 'Tis much easier on me when I do not have to choose between my mother and my queen on such matters. If I were forced to make such a choice, I suspect I would side with Mother, though I would make every effort to avoid such a situation.” I suppose ‘twas the natural choice for a child to pick family o’er duty. Though perhaps I should have tried more to reconcile the two. Gale had urged me to negotiate with Cyclone, but I had refused to do so, fearing it might weaken my position in the clan or cause the unicorns to doubt my loyalty. Still, if there were e’en the slightest chance that I could have won him to my cause with the right words... I shook my head and did what I could to cast that thought aside. Cyclone was dead. Continuing to ponder on that fact and how mine actions might have prevented it served little purpose, so long as I avoided replicating the failure in the future. No doubt much of the Commander’s time in melancholy moods was occupied in pondering what she might have said or done to prevent her own sister’s fall from grace. I turned to young Midnight. “Aye, 'twould be ideal if the choice between family and duty were never thrust upon us, but we do not always have that luxury. Howe’er, I am glad thou shalt not e’er experience such.” Midnight stared at me unblinkingly for several long moments, then shifted so she was walking nearer my side. “I am sorry you are experiencing that. I think that is yet another reason why I do not like this war. I will add it to the list.” She frowned in thought and began counting down said list. “It means Mother, Gale, and other ponies might die. It upsets the Queen. Other ponies like Morning Star and her children lose those they care about. And it will be harder to get ice cream now that we are cut off from any outside supplies. Worst of all, the constant rain has filled the streets with mud.” She turned her eyes back to me. “And now it has hurt your clan as well. I wish I could do something to stop it all, but...” she trailed off with a helpless shrug. “I have often wished that I could end this as well,” I confessed. There was little glory or honor to be won in this war with our own kind. Merely the grim necessity of seeing the conflict through to its conclusion. Howe’er, that was not an answer to give to a child, so I placed a hoof on her shoulder and offered her a quick smile. “My thanks, dear child.” Midnight immediately halted, then turned to me with a confused frown. “For what, milady?” “For thy kind words.” Midnight answered with another one of her slow blinks. On account of her dark coloring, ‘twas some time before I realized that her cheeks had turned pink. I never would have imagined that I would see the young girl blushing so. “I do not remember anypony saying that to me in mine entire life.” That statement took me quite by surprise. “Truly? Not e’en thine own mother?” “Neigh, not e’en her.” She considered her answer, then shook her head. “To be precise, she has not thanked me in such a manner. She has offered her gratitude for many minor acts, such as holding a door open or passing the salt at the dinner table. As have others. But you are the first to thank me for something of ... substance, I suppose. ‘Tis a curious thing, but one I find quite enjoyable.” “I see.” Quite unfortunate, though I suppose ‘twas no surprise. Sunbeam was not a mare of kindness and gratitude, and Midnight’s nature was off-putting enough that she had little opportunity to earn the favor of others. “If thou wouldst have more praise, continue to be a fine young lady, and I shall have cause to thank thee once more.” Midnight answered with a smile that was thankfully more subdued than some of her previous efforts at the expression. At the very least, her teeth were not so prominently bared, nor her eyes unnaturally wide. ’Twas also helpful that her voice carried genuine enthusiasm rather than her normal emotionless monotone. “I will do my best in that venture!” The problems of her smile aside, ‘twas hard not to find her eagerness somewhat infectious. She was still a young filly and had a child’s energetic approach to life. “Very good then. I look forward to thine efforts.” Strange as she was, I found myself growing fond of young Midnight just as my daughter had. Perhaps ‘twas simple maternal instinct or a natural product of my growing closeness with her mother. Though I think a part of it was also Midnight herself. She was clearly a young filly in need of more ponies in her life than merely her mother. Sunbeam Sparkle is not a mare who should be a child’s sole caregiver and companion. If the girl needed more adults to bring balance to her life, I saw no harm in filling such a role when and where I could. Midnight cleared her throat, and I realized we had reached the throne room. The doors were sealed, and I could tell that a privacy spell was in place. Hardly surprising, if Sunbeam and the Commander were quarreling. The girl nodded to the door. “Here we are, milady. I believe they are expecting you.” Given her reaction to mine earlier praise, I saw no harm in offering more. “My thanks for providing me with an escort, Midnight. Be well. And do not trouble thy mind about thine earlier words which offended me. I think I will forget to mention them to thy mother.” Midnight visibly relaxed, offering me a grateful nod. “You have my most sincere thanks for that, Milady Shadow. Now mother will not punish me by refusing to let me go to a play, or taking away my dessert. I do not enjoy being denied either of those. She might e’en have forced me to write a scroll on what I did wrong, and how I will correct my behavior in the future.” The girl sighed, then cleared her throat and returned her mind to her task. “I apologize for troubling you with my complaints, and for mine initial offense, e’en if ‘tis forgiven now. I wish you luck in facing Mother and Her Majesty. You will need great fortune to see you through this, I think. Being between two ponies using the Royal Canterlot Voice in an argument is ... painful. I mean that physically.” I was briefly surprised to hear that Sunbeam was matching the Commander’s volume, though I suppose ‘twould be a simple enough trick for a magus of her calibre. “I shall prepare mine ears accordingly, then.” I took a deep breath, made ready for the latest battlefield, and then strode into the throne room. To mine immediate relief, neither of them was shouting when I entered the throne room. Howe’er, that relief proved short-lived, as both turned their full attention to me. As Sunbeam was nearer the door, she was first to strike, trotting to my side. “Shadow, at last. Perhaps thou canst talk some sense into Her Majesty.” The Commander remained on her throne, gazing down from it with the aloof regal dignity I had often seen when she seemed to feel a need to assert herself. “I have heard thine arguments, Sunbeam. I have also found them wanting. If thou canst not bring thyself to accept that thy queen hast spoken on the matter, then by all means present a new argument. ‘Twould be far preferable to enduring more of thy complaints that I must somehow be deficient simply for not accepting thy desires without question.” The archmagus answered her with an annoyed snort. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty. As Queen of Unicornia, you are well within your rights to rule as you please. Howe’er, if you will not heed the rational advice of your Grand Vizier, then mayhaps I should step down from the post so that another candidate may be appointed. Though Your Majesty will find that any other suitable replacement will share mine opinion on the matter.” That took me by surprise, given Sunbeam’s lust for power. Most likely she hoped to shake Celestia into compliance, or at least reconsidering her position. If that was her intention, then she underestimated the Commander’s insight. “Do not insult mine intelligence, Sunbeam. We both know thou art bluffing.” A brief frown crossed Sunbeam’s face, but she quickly put the matter aside, shrugging away her defeat. “The fact remains that I am most displeased with your decision on this matter, Your Majesty.” Her attention once more shifted to me, and her tail briefly passed over my wing. “I am confident that Shadow will agree with my reasoning once I have explained the situation to her. Mayhaps then you will reconsider?” The Commander let forth a long-suffering sigh, but spared a tired smile for me. “Very well, if ‘twill buy me a moment’s peace, then make thy case to Shadow. Though I do not anticipate altering my position on the matter, ‘tis possible Shadow might make some argument which has eluded thee thus far.” She brought a hoof to her forehead, rubbing her temple. “And mayhaps when she finds thine arguments as unconvincing as I do, thou shalt accept my ruling and cease thine endless complaints. I am ... weary of this.” Sunbeam’s eyes narrowed, and she let forth an aggrieved snort. “If you truly find my words so offensive, Your Majesty, then perhaps you should consider why I press the matter so firmly. Do not forget that my concern is for the good of the realm and Equestria. A realm you seem quite content to ignore whene’er a melancholic mood takes you, or some new project strikes your fancy, much like it has now.” Her lips curled back from her teeth. “If you lack the strength of will to rule o’er the land, perhaps you should have informed us of such before we committed to a civil war to preserve your crown. If you wish to keep your throne, kindly allow your faithful servants to help you retain it and cease interfering in their efforts.” Celestia tensed, then drew herself up to her full height, glowering down at the unicorn. “Thou dost o’erstep thyself, Sunbeam, e’en for private counsel. I will tolerate thy dissent and e’en thine anger, but do not press the limits of mine indulgence. I will not be held in contempt by a mare whose solution to every problem is violence and death. Make thine argument to Shadow respectfully, or thou might find that I accept thine earlier threat of resigning thy post.” Sunbeam answered her with a cold smile. “Now it is you who offers empty bluffs, Your Majesty.” Having said her piece, the Archmagus of Canterlot turned to face me and offered a respectful nod. “Mine apologies for the scene thou didst witness, Shadow. I ask that thou mediate the differences ‘tween us.” I privately wondered if mediation were e’en possible. Were we in Pegasopolis, such a tense disagreement might well have come to blows. Likely the only reason it had not was that Sunbeam knew such a clash could only end in her utter defeat. Regardless, ‘twas my duty to do what I could to resolve the matter. “Mayhaps we could begin by informing me of the substance of this dispute? Thus far all I know is that the both of you are at odds o’er some matter regarding the war.” “Yes, of course.” Sunbeam nodded to herself and stepped nearer to me, placing herself in such a way that she largely obstructed my view of Commander Celestia. “The discussion grew from my suspicions about Lance Charger, in the aftermath of our recent discussion on the matter. I believe ‘twould be best if we removed her from the field ere she could do any further harm to Equestria. Her Majesty disagrees. Vehemently.” “Ah.” ‘Twas no surprise the Commander objected when Sunbeam wished to murder a pony that Celestia had asked that I spare. “I take it thy theory regarding Lance’s unusual capabilities had some truth to it, then?” “Sunbeam was indeed correct,” Commander Celestia confirmed. “Though Lance Charger is something of an unusual case, she does indeed have the potential to become an alicorn.” “I see.” I chose my next words very carefully. “I am curious as to why we should allow her to do that. Thus far she seems quite devoted to the rebel cause, and would be a considerable asset for them if allowed to reach her full potential. They have already driven us back to Canterlot and put the city under siege without an alicorn in their ranks. With that added strength...” “Not to mention Lance would make a far better rallying point for their rebellion than Nightmare Moon.” Sunbeam spared an irritated glance for the Commander when she flinched upon hearing her sister’s name. “For all their efforts to rehabilitate her image or explain that they do not wish for eternal night, many still associate her name with the other dark powers. A new alicorn would spare them that. She would also provide a far more practical rallying point than a pony exiled ere any of us were born, and free the rebel propagandists to claim that Luna’s exile is a polite lie, that she was secretly murdered and disposed of by the queen.” Celestia’s face darkened in the closest thing to a snarl I had e'er seen from the Commander. I was surprised to note a faint smile on Sunbeam’s face at the Commander’s reaction, and she turned to look at the Commander from the corner of her eye. “And of course, let us not forget that unlike certain other parties, this new rebel alicorn would actually go to the effort of joining her troops in battle rather than simply sit upon a throne and complain whilst others do their best to secure victory despite her.” “ENOUGH!” The Commander slammed a hoof ‘pon the floor, sending cracks through the marble as the room itself trembled at her fury. “Be gone from my sight, Sunbeam Sparkle, lest I have my guards escort thee to my dungeons!” Sunbeam fell silent, then slowly and deliberately bowed to the throne. “As Her Majesty commands, so shall I do.” She then turned to me. “Reason with her if thou canst, Shadow. Though I am not hopeful.” “You are unwise to goad her so,” I cautioned in a low murmur. “I have ne’er seen her so wrathful in all my time in Canterlot. Not e’en when she learned of Swiftwing’s Clipping.” Sunbeam’s cryptic smile only widened at that. “I should hope so, after how much effort I have put into provoking her. If ‘twould bestir her from her melancholy, I would gladly smite her across the face and call her naught but a cheap harlot in front of the entire court.” She stepped back from me and offered a slight nod. “I wish thee luck, Shadow.” Having said what she cared to, the Archmagus departed, leaving me alone with a highly agitated alicorn. Once Sunbeam had left us, Celestia rose from her throne, furiously pacing about the room and growling dire threats under her breath. I remained to the side, lest I become a target of her wrath. ‘Tis well known that those who are slow to anger become quite fearsome once their tempers are fully roused. Though in mine own experience, mine anger is every bit as heated as others despite being quick to emerge. ’Twas unfortunate for the Commander that she lacked a convenient outlet for that rage. When a foul mood takes me, I can enjoy a simple spar with a well-protected partner. ‘Twas quite common within Pegasopolis to take the blows of a friend when they were in an especially choleric state, allowing them to vent their spleen. Pity that was not an option for Celestia. There were few beings in the world capable of taking her blows, and one of the dark powers would hardly have accepted a friendly spar with the sun queen. Lacking any such partner, she simply stalked about the room until her rage subsided naturally. With the mare who had so provoked her absent, ‘twas only a matter of time ere her usual calm demeanour reasserted itself. At that point, I judged it safe to approach her. “Commander, do you still wish to—” “Discuss the matter of Lance Charger?” The bitter whip-crack of her voice made it plain that I had misjudged her. “Aye, let us do so. I ne’er tire of having my many inadequacies as a ruler displayed before me.” Moments after the words left her mouth, and ere I could e’en begin to muster any response, she held up a hoof to forestall mine answer. “I apologize for that, Shadow. ‘Twas unworthy of me. Sunbeam has a rare talent for causing me untold aggravation, but the price of that anger is hers, not thine. I beg thy forgiveness.” “You already have it, Commander,” I quickly assured her. “My thanks to thee.” She stepped nearer, one wing upraised, and for a brief moment I wondered if she intended to embrace me with it. Howe’er, after a moment’s pause, she lowered it and then slowly walked back to her throne. Once seated, she let out a long, pained sigh. “To the business of the crown, then. Though Sunbeam was undiplomatic in making her case, ’tis hard to deny that sparing Lance Charger and allowing her to reach the point of ascension seems a strange choice. Howe’er, I have my reasons for doing so. Reasons that are, unfortunately, rather difficult to explain to a pony who...” She frowned as she trailed off, struggling to find the right word. “Is mortal?” I suggested. “Aye.” Her eyes turned to the window, staring out o’er the city. “I do not like to think of myself as standing above and separate from my subjects, yet there are times when ‘tis an undeniable truth. Immortality and ascension bring with them a far different perspective upon the world—one that I have found mortals cannot understand. They simply lack any common frame of reference to discuss the matter.” A frown crossed her face. “And so we come to the matter of Lance. Aye, she is in rebellion against me now, but once she reaches the point of ascension that will change. Turning from an ordinary pony to an alicorn is a transformative experience, one which defies any attempt to describe it. Lance Charger will be a changed mare afterwards.” Comprehension dawned. “So you believe that in turning her into an alicorn, you will gain her loyalty?” If that were her intention, then I could certainly see the logic behind it. Not only would the loyalists gain a powerful new ally, but Lance’s defection might well turn Bright to our cause as well. The pride she held in her eldest daughter was obvious, and if Lance turned, she might well reconsider her own loyalties. With Bright currently in command of the rebel forces... “You think to end the war bloodlessly, and in a single stroke?” Celestia offered me a tired smile. “Yes, precisely. Lance Charger will be the bridge ‘tween myself and the rebels, allowing us to end this needless war and restore peace and harmony to Equestria. That plan has been the focus of mine efforts since the war began. Sunbeam and my generals, thyself included, have tended to the grim military realities, but wars are not truly a matter of blades and armies. Those are merely the tools used by ponies to advance the beliefs which compel them to take up arms. With Lance’s ascension, I can undo the very idea of the rebellion.” Her eyes shone with the calculating gleam of a chessmaster about to declare mate. “The greatest victory in warfare is not crushing your opponents’ armies or slaying their soldiers. It is persuading them that they should ne’er have raised arms against you to begin with.” ’Twould seem that Sunbeam and I had misjudged Celestia. Though the melancholy I had seen in her so often might have dulled her actions and her mind, she was not without her moments of brilliance. In fact, I wondered what could possibly have turned Sunbeam so vehemently against the plan. E’en as that question occurred, I espied the potential weakness of Celestia’s masterstroke. “How certain are you that Lance Charger would be won to your cause when she ascends? Is it an absolute knowledge, or merely your prediction?” Celestia’s face fell, which was answer enough to my doubts. “The latter, then.” “Aye,” she confirmed. “Though I have a far deeper understanding of my subjects than most, I cannot predict their actions with total certainty. What I see is only the best that they can offer, the fullness of their potential. Lance Charger could be the key to ending this conflict. Or she could choose a different path.” Now I fully grasped the cause of Sunbeam’s displeasure. “You would offer Lance Charger ascension e’en knowing that she might remain loyal to the rebel cause afterwards?” I felt a frown growing on my face. “Lance is Bright’s favored child. Though I confess I do not grasp how ascension might affect her outlook, the bond ‘tween mother and daughter is not one easily broken.” My mind briefly turned to my troubles with Gale, but I quickly cast the thought aside ere it could distract me. “‘Twould seem to me that Lance remaining loyal to the rebel cause is a dangerously likely outcome.” “It is,” the Commander conceded. “Howe’er, I have faith that when the time comes, she will make the right choice. Sometimes we must believe in the goodness of our fellow ponies, e’en when reason suggests otherwise.” Ah. Small surprise Sunbeam found that answer so offensive. She was a mare who had no such faith. Her natural inclination was to assume that all were as self-serving and ruthless as she herself was, and she seemed to take a particular delight in exposing the base motives behind seeming deeds of selflessness. If Celestia could offer no certainty of her plan beyond belief in the decency of others... In truth, Sunbeam was not the only mare who found such an assurance wanting. The Commander intended to gamble the whole of our war effort upon this plan. Sunbeam was undeniably correct that Lance Charger refusing to turn her coat would likely doom the loyalist cause. For all that I wished to share the Commander’s faith, my rational mind told me that she intended to embark upon a course which would almost certainly end in our destruction. That seemed a needless risk. Though I had not offered her any answer, my doubts must have been plain enough on my face, for the Commander’s expression fell as she regarded me. “I see. ’Twould seem that thy closeness with Sunbeam is not merely a matter of cordiality. Thou wouldst favor her course o’er mine?” I quickly approached the throne as near as I could without being unseemly. “That is not the way of it, Commander. I favor what is best for Equestria. If your gambit succeeds, ‘twould be an ideal end to the war. Yet I cannot help but think that, absent some assurance that ‘tis likely to succeed, we are taking a very grave risk. Denying Lance the possibility of ascension would seem a far more prudent course of action.” She answered me with a heavy sigh, slumping low into her throne. “So e’en thou art against me in this, dear Shadow? Truly, I am alone.” The melancholy took her once more, and the animated energy I had so recently seen within her drained away, leaving behind a very old and very tired mare once more. When she spoke once more, I could hear the weariness in her voice, a sort of resignation to her own failure. “So be it, then. I know Sunbeam’s ways better than she believes. When next she has the opportunity, she will attempt to arrange Lance’s death. Likely at the prisoner exchange. E’en if thou wilt not have faith in my plans, canst thou at least do what thou wilt to prevent her from murdering the mare who is our only hope of ending this war bloodlessly?” “I will ... consider it.” I did not have the heart to refuse her request directly. In truth, I do not think I could bring myself to oppose Sunbeam if she chose the prudent course of action. While I would not actively seek such a situation, I would be sorely tempted to take Lance’s life myself if the opportunity presented itself to me. The gravity of the threat she represented was simply too great to allow it to come to fruition. Celestia regarded me, her eyes piercing mine. For a moment, I suspect she saw into the very core of my being. Despite her earlier claims, in that moment I felt as if she knew mine every thought, desire, and action with absolute certainty. “I have faith in all of my subjects, Shadow. Not only Lance, but thee as well. I know that when the time comes, thou wilt do what thou knowest in thine own heart is right. E’en if you cannot believe in me, I shall continue to believe in you.”