Fishberry marched firmly through the hallways of the High Council Building, flanked by guards and their glowing antlers. As she strolled towards the upper level and made her way for the Chancellor's seat, she passed by wave after wave of gawking servants and delegates.
She made eye contact with none of them, breathing firmly as she approached her destination. Through the walls of the large structure, a loud hissing noise perpetuated: the sound of hundreds of thousands of anxious, stirring citizens. This roar was mimicked by the grand murmur of delegates and representatives from within the great hollow of the High Council chamber itself.
Undaunted, Fishberry took one last turn, and stepped onto the balcony overlooking the myriad of patiently waiting officials.
The gates along the southern end of the Royal District flew open.
Thick lines of Soul Sentries galloped straight out. The eye-glowing reindeer formed a tight circle, and in the center of the group was a stagecoach being led by General Saikano and Constable Jake.
Citizens gasped from afar, watching as the procession made its was speedily towards the Soundstone District. Those who saw the normally elusive General stammered in shock to see him actually, physically pulling a stagecoach. He and the moose stopped for nodeer, instead bulleting their way towards the High Council Building towards the southeast.
Inside the stagecoach, armed with a sparkling, electrified staff, Midnite Bastion carefully watched after Sharp Quill's dormant body. He stirred slightly, a wincing expression spreading across his muzzle. Midnite kept the end of the staff trained on him. Meanwhile, she glanced nervously through the window of the stagecoach, watching as the spires of the glimmering Sandstone District approached very swiftly.
Shooom!
The Tarkington rocketed its way east, dipping low as it skimmed a series of looming mountains.
“That was it!” Booster Spice stammered, leaning over the back of Prowse's sweat inside the vessel's cramped cockpit. He pointed with a bandaged limb. “We just passed the West Gate! Where are all the Soul Sentries?!”
“Pulled back into Val Roa Proper,” Prowse said. “If we're to believe your sky-vomit-haired lass.”
“Wow...” Booster cooed, blinking in awe at the spires of the city looming in the distance. “I had no clue it would be this beautiful...”
“Well, let's fix to keep it beautiful, aye?” Prowse pulled back at the controls with his good limb. “Elevatin' us to get a good lay of the land! Ya think you might know what the High Council Building looks like, boyo?”
“Uhm...” Boster shifted nervously. “Imagine a giant crystalline doughnut with bronze sprinkles.”
“Err....”
“... … ...” Booster blinked. “...a big orange bowl of haggis?”
“Bloody brilliant!” Prowse grinned wickedly, jerking right on the flight stick. “I think I see it already!”
Booster shouted over his shoulder as the ship teetered towards starboard. “Everypony, get ready for the dropoff!”
Prince Eine and Kera panted and panted. They galloped as quickly as their little hooves could carry them, escorted by shimmering Soul Sentries through the streets of Val Roa.
Several citizens split apart, pausing in their protests and demonstrations to gawk at the inexplicable procession. Not many of the ponies or deer could recognize Eine, but that didn't stop them from giving the Soul Sentries ample room to make their march.
At one point, Eine stumbled, falling onto his knees with a wincing expression.
Kera gritted her teeth, turning around and firing a pulse of magic.
Eine gasped as he was essentially mana-kicked in the rear. He stumbled forward, and Kera gave him a tug with her hoof. Together, the two approached the westernmost steps of the High Council building as the crowd dissipated, staring curiously at them.
From atop the steps, a group of figures didn't move. Nilla chewed on her lip, glancing nervously aside at Mamunia who was leaning exhaustedly against Jet. Both servants craned their necks to see Kera's approach. They looked towards the top of the steps.
Two hooded, cloaked figures stepped out from beneath the immediate ring of marble pillars. Peering out from under their disguises, Floydien and Arcanista exchanged glances. They nodded, then pulled their hoods down before simultaneously twirling towards the front steps and firing broad bands of electrical energy. Floydien's blast was four times as bright as Arcanista's.
As planned, the mana display disrupted the crowd, forcing several deer, elk, and gazelle to split apart and make room across the steps.
A group of guards, however, immediately charged up. “Stop! In the name of the Prince!” Three deer formed a solid line, aiming their glowing antlers at the Duke and Duchess. “What is the meaning of this?! Lower your antlers right this second—”
With thundering hooves, every Soul Sentry in the vicinity rushed up and formed a solid barrier, blocking the gasping guards from their targets.
“What... wh-what's going on?! Warriors, stand down! The Chancellor is about to give her—” A loud gasp ran through the crowd. The guards gawked at a tiny fawn and a little filly as they rushed up the steps, joining the cloaked figures. “My God... is... is that...?” One guard narrowed his eyes. “...the Prince?”
The masses gathered at the base of the steps suddenly stirred with shock and excitement all at once.
Chancellor Fishberry approached the edge of the balcony where an assortment of sound stones loomed before her. She gazed out into the circular arena of seats and platforms where countless Val Roan representatives waited, restless.
The entire chamber shook and thundered with pounding hooves and manic voices.
At last, Fishberry raised her hoof. The Council Building silenced to a tense hush almost immediately. Taking a deep breath, Fishberry spoke.
“My loyal delegates of Val Roa. You have come here with hope that I might dissuade your fears. Unfortunately, that is not a joyous task that I can perform for you this morning. I'm afraid that—as suspected—Prince Eine of the House of Evo has vanished, and both him and his fawnnapper are at large.”
Almost immediately, the Council erupted into panicked murmurs and angry roars.
Fishberry spoke loudly, her broadcasted voice crackling above the tumult. “But this kingdom is not built upon sand, but rather the rock sound mind and unfaltering tradition! We have endured trials far worse than this! I have every bit of faith that the Prince can be found. But until he is, it is up to us—the esteemed representatives of the High Council—to establish a temporary executive power until the moment that the Prince is discovered and brought back to the throne for his coronation.”
Everyone in the chamber exchanged nervous glances, eyes wide and bright.
“So, if you would hear me out...” Fishberry leaned forward. Though she spoke firmly, her eyes nevertheless glanced up at the ceiling, as if gazing at the sky through the structure she was in. “...here are my humble proposals...”
“Boss! Boss!” An imp ran up the metal top deck of the Gamma battleship. He stood breathless before Haman and saluted. “There's a bogey! Dead ahead! Twelve o'clock!”
“A bogey?” Haman hissed from his teetering mech walker.
“A skystone craft, sir! Armed with what appears to be manacannons!”
“... … ...” Haman's slime-encrusted eyes narrowed. At last, he barked towards his workhands. “All stop!”
“All stop!”
“Allll stopppp!”
The air shifted as the massive battleship lurched to a cold, limp glide. Off its port side, the other vessel likewise stalled.
Soon, both ships hovered listlessly in the air. Due north, a final line of mountains loomed, beyond which lay the glittering urban vistas of Val Roa.
But that wasn't all. A dark metal body floated directly between the two battleships and their destination. It glimmered with an enormous chunk of crimson skystone looming directly above the vessel's gondola.
“Frostbeams...” one crew member cooed.
“Look at the size of that skystone!”
“It's like a piece of the north's edge was carved out and given wings!”
“Silence...” Haman sneered, walking forward on metal crab limbs. “Silence!” The imps around him shuddered as he stood on the battleship's bow and extended a spy-glass from his walker's chassis. Cl-Clank! He gripped the thing and stared out at the horizon. “... … …bringing a puny ship like that to our moment of glory...” He lowered the glass and snarled. “Whoever they are, they're dead meat.” He pivoted and shouted towards his subordinates. “Ready the frag cannons!”
“Aye, boss!”
“Ready the cannons!”
“Ready the cannons!”
Goblins scurried about, shouting orders to one another as the metal parts along the top deck rattled and rang.
Haman's eyes squinted. “Who dares stand in our way?” Slowly, menacingly, he smiled. “We'll sprinkle their ashes upon the threshhold of our moment of glory...”
Zaid bit his lip, staring straight out the cockpit. He gripped the controls with two shivering forelimbs, then glanced over his shoulder.
Bellesmith and Pilate stood on the top deck of the Noble Jury. Slowly, the zebra reached a hoof up to his visor and gave it a tap. The Oracular Array glowed red, and he instantly shivered.
Leaning against the starboard mounted cannon, Belle took a shuddering breath and spoke into a sound stone. “Props, are all engines powered up?”
“Scrkkk! Yuppers! As primed as they'll ever be!”
“And the book?”
“Churning lavender! The color and smell of victory!”
“Very well. Stand by for my command.” Bellesmith lowered the sound stone. After a deep sigh, she murmured aside. “Beloved...?”
“Yes, Belle?”
She gulped without looking at him. “I love you.”
Pilate clenched his teeth. “Don't panic. I'll love you even more tomorrow.”
The slightest of smiles crossed Bellesmith's muzzle, morphing gradually into a devilish smirk. “Zaid?”
“Cap'n, my Cap'n?”
“Prepare to do as we planned.”
“Does that include or not include the pissing-in-my-chair part?”
“Feel free to improvise.” Belle gripped the cannon and swiveled it forward. “Whatever the case, Noble Jurists. here is where we make our stand.” Her nostrils flared. “Even if it be our last...”