The peaks were called the Skyshapers in the Equestrian tongue, and something basically similar in the languages of other nations that surrounded them. The tallest mountains on the continent of Cissanthema, they served as the most definitive boundary between Equestria and the southernmost of the Griffin Kingdoms, a centuries-old treaty between the two powers mandating that neither griffin nor pony settle within or exploit the untapped resources of the peaks. The treaty had the unintended side-effect of making the Skyshapers a natural home for many monsters and wild beasts – rocs, chimeras, manticores, hydras, even a very lost kraken in one of its inland lakes, or so a story about the mountains went.
For the most part, the Skyshapers were simple mountains, but in several locations the roots of the mountains buried deep into the Earth below, and touched the liquid magma resting there. Dozens of smoldering, if not generally fully active, volcanos were nestled within the Skyshaper Peaks, their forms easily distinguished from that of the mountains they surrounded thanks to the lack of snow on their broiling forms. The volcanos were a favored home of dragons – being both fireproof and not needing to breathe, they in fact made an ideal home, as a quick trip down a lava tube would give a dragon all the food he could ever want to eat in the form of gemstones of megalithic proportions. It was at the foot of one such volcano, in a once-forested valley that had been petrified at some point over the last hundred years by a pyroclastic burst from the volcano, that Solrathicharnon the Red now found himself.
Even by dragon standards, Solrathicharnon was ancient, a thousand and more years old. More than a hundred feet from the tip of his snout to the end of his tail, his scales were a faded red, and his eyes solid gold orbs with nearly faded pupils. He was blind, the result of a titanic conflict a thousand years ago now with himself, his father, and his six brothers on one side, and one of the most powerful beings on the planet, the Alicorn of the Night – Luna – on the other. That battle had not merely blinded him, but cost the lives of four of his brothers, and his father. Solrathicharnon and his two surviving siblings had limped from Equestria injured and humiliated at their loss. Those brothers were dead now, as old age was a scourge that plagued even dragons, but Solrathicharnon had not proven so vulnerable to its curse. And so for a thousand years, he had thought of only one thing: revenge.
The dragon held, in one of his front claws, an object that even the merest glance at which would tell the observer was wrong. Though it took the form of a mere black cloth bag, something seemed eminently sinister about it. The way it seemed to cling to whatever touched it. The way it seemed to glisten as though covered in slick tar. The way it seemed to pulse at regular intervals, like it contained a still-beating heart. In fact, it contained something that, in comparison to the mere bag, was a thousand times worse.
Solrathicharnon held the bag out before him, opened it, and the Rainbow of Darkness came out with a burst of magic so potent and vile that even Solrathicharnon flinched at it. The Darkness moved like a living thing, twisting and coiling around on itself and moving through the petrified forest like a serpent. It was anti-light at its core, a black that was so dark it seemed to absorb all light it touched, while surrounding that core was a miasma of deep violet. Blind though he was, Solrathicharnon could still ‘see’ magic – and there was no mistaking that the magic of the Rainbow of Darkness was as evil as magic could be.
The dragon focused, forcing his will and power forward and into the Darkness. It was a force as mighty and as powerful as the Elements of Harmony, or so the stories went. The Darkness could do anything – anything – if one’s will and, more importantly, one’s hate was strong enough. At this point in his life, Solrathicharnon had both to spare.
The Rainbow of Darkness twisted and coiled at Solrathicharnon’s actions, reacting like an animal meeting a new master for the first time. For time immemorial, the Rainbow of Darkness had been controlled by the demon Tirek, but some months ago Solrathicharnon had arranged to have it stolen from the demon’s kingdom-prison of Tartaros. The Rainbow’s first new master in countless millennia was an unknown thing to it, and it wasn’t yet sure how to respond.
Solrathicharnon, however, knew exactly what to do. The Darkness was a force of pure hatred, and Solrathicharnon focused his own hate forward, demanded though the link forged by the bag itself that it bend to his will, performed the metaphysical equivalent of flogging the Darkness until it bent into the shape that he willed it.
That was the idea, anyway. The Rainbow of Darkness resisted his attempts, wriggled and slipped like an eel. But for all its power, it had no will of its own, no direction, no drive. Left to its own devices it would sit in this valley forever – not inert by any means, but affecting no active change, instead only gradually warping the valley and all those that ventured into it. That was far, far too slow an action for Solrathicharnon.
The valley changed. Solrathicharnon could sense the changes, ‘see’ them with his magic vision. The petrified trees twisted and warped, grew in size and reached out towards each other, forming a wall of frozen ash. Nearby, a small pond that had formed bubbled and boiled, the water within turning inky black. Living creatures within the pond did not suffer long – but suffer they did.
Solrathicharnon directed the Darkness’ power towards one petrified log. The power of hate infused it. The log burst from ash, the wood inside re-created by the power of the Darkness and infused with new, twisted life. It impaled the ground, mangled roots seeking out and greedily drinking in nutrients and water trapped beneath the ground as the tree bloomed once more. It had been an apple tree in life, it seemed, but the fruit that the tree bore as it grew in size were not something that any creature would willingly eat – the apples were covered in pustules and sweated a black ooze, while the leaves of the tree were razor-sharp, and its trunk covered in spines.
The tree reached for Solrathicharnon, its branches bending towards him and spines extending eagerly. The dragon snorted, exhaling a gout of flame at the tree. It lit up with surprising ease, and actually screamed as it burned, a profane sound that echoed through the valley. Out of curiosity, Solrathicharnon continued to pour the Rainbow of Darkness’ magic into the tree, and found that the tree continued to live, and scream, as long as he did so. In fact, he was certain that, if he were to force more of the Darkness’ power into the tree, it could have quenched the flames itself, and then attempted to revenge itself upon the dragon that tormented it.
Solrathicharnon grinned widely. He willed the Rainbow of Darkness to withdraw from the tree, and retreat to back within its container. It did so only slowly and grudgingly, but the Darkness had no choice but to obey the dragon’s commands.
Once the Darkness was sealed again within the bag, he stowed it beneath a scale in his chest, near his heart – a convenient trick that many a dragon used to hold their most prized portions of their hoards – and began exhaling fire, destroying the tree utterly, then moving on to the corrupted pond, then every petrified tree that he had warped with the power of the Rainbow of Darkness. Far more importantly than destroying the physical effects of his experimentation, dragon fire burned with enough power to destroy the lingering magic of the Darkness, now that it was no longer being directly fueled. It would not do to have his ‘queen’ discover his experimentation with a force that even she feared.
But, more importantly, it was a force which she had faced in the past, and overcome. One day very, very soon, Solrathicharnon would be certain enough in the usage of the power of the Rainbow of Darkness to slay Corona, the Tyrant Sun. Until then, he would continue to do what he had for the past thousand years: bide his time, and wait for the opportune moment to strike. Very soon, he would even have the power to turn the Darkness against Luna –
There was a roar.
Solrathicharnon froze in his actions at the sound, his ear-crests flaring to try and zero in on the sound while he inhaled sharply through his nose and his tongue darted from his mouth, tasting the air. The roar he heard was a dragon’s roar – no, two dragons – no, more than that, ten – a hundred – a thousand – his blind eyes widened in surprise as he took to the air, mighty wings beating furiously and taking him rapidly into the sky as the roar continued. It was coming from everywhere, it seemed, all around him, yet none of the roars were in any way close. At a guess, the nearest dragon that was making the noise would be ten miles away.
The dragon flew from the vale where he had experimented with the Rainbow of Darkness, making his way back to his lair, a cave in the side of another volcano, which also housed the hidden palace of Corona, the Tyrant Sun – his ‘queen’ for the moment. He couldn’t see the volcano, of course, be he could smell it, a unique blend of sulfur and brimstone on the air that allowed him to zero in on its caldera with little effort.
In another moment, the darkness that was his vision lit up brightly. Golden light as bright as the sun appeared from nothingness, streams of powerful magic vaguely in the shape of an equine being with wings and a horn, and a mane and tail that flowed like fire. It was how he ‘saw’ Corona – the mad sister of Luna, once known as Celestia – who had risen from the caldera and ascended high into the air before stopping, hovering in place with a steady beat of her wings. She noticed Solrathicharnon’s approach, and he made sure to lower his altitude slightly, approach from beneath her, giving her the position of strength in the air. For the moment, she was more powerful than he, however much he hated that fact, and so he had to appear subservient at all times.
The roar of dragons continued, and Solrathicharnon’s attentive ears were picking out even more roars now. Corona, meanwhile, turned to look down at him. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “I hear dragons – thousands of them. Their call is spreading across Cissanthema!”
Solrathicharnon began a lazy circle around Corona, as he wasn’t capable of hovering in place for any sustained length of time due to both his age and his mass. He closed his eyes, taking a few more moments to listen to the draconic roars – not just the sound, but the pitch, the timber, the precise meaning behind every warble and breath. Every dragon on the continent hadn’t simply decided apropos nothing to roar; this was a message, being relayed across Cissanthema from one dragon to the next, and would continue until all were alerted and knew what it meant. He opened his eyes again, and looked to Corona, out of habit if nothing else. “You are even more ancient than I, O Queen,” he rumbled. “You know the meaning behind this call.”
The aura that was Corona to Solrathicharnon’s sight bristled, the glow of her magic doubling in intensity before withdrawing in on itself. “I feared as much.”
“An Overlord,” Solrathicharnon said aloud. “For the first time in millennia, a dragon has proclaimed himself Overlord of all Dragons.”
“This cannot come to pass!” Corona exclaimed, stomping one hoof, though the gesture was largely pointless as long as she hovered in thin air. “Not now – not while Equestria is in the fumbling hooves of my sister!”
Solrathicharnon was less than keen on the idea of an Overlord himself – at least, an Overlord that wasn’t him. He resisted the urge to touch the Rainbow of Darkness hidden beneath his scales, lest Corona notice. He had hoped the raw power of the Darkness might allow him to overcome his physical impairment – blindness – and allow him to proclaim himself Overlord. Indeed, certain designs he had for the near future, for the fruition of his centuries-long plan of revenge against Luna, depended upon it. But if some other dragon was Overlord, then those plans would be dashed.
Then again, how powerful could this dragon be? Could he really be any match for Solrathicharnon the Red? Solrathicharnon the Eldest? Solrathicharnon, Master of the Rainbow of Darkness?
The roar of dragons at last ended, the message apparently having been carried across the whole of Cissanthema. Compared to the noise of just a few moments ago, the silence was deafening. Even now, from every corner of the continent, dragons would be taking to the air, collecting their whelps and small portions of their hoards and setting their course for the part of Cissanthema known as the Western Wilderlands, a wild and free country where no sapient being went save one: dragons.
“I must go to the Dragon’s Forge,” Corona continued, wings beating as she soared higher into the sky. “And slay this Overlord now, before he can pose a threat – ”
“Wait,” Solrathicharnon interrupted, his own wings working hard to catch up to the alicorn. She didn’t seem to notice him. “Hold, Daystar!”
The use of an archaic title broke through Corona’s determination, but only so that she could turn upon Solrathicharnon. To his magic sight, her golden aura grew tenfold. “You would dare try to hold me back at a time like this?” she demanded. Her voice dropped several octaves. “A new Overlord has been proclaimed. Do you plan to betray me and serve him? That will end very, very poorly for you, Solrath.”
Solrathicharnon had to choose his next words carefully, he knew. Blow for blow, he could not defeat the Tyrant Sun. No one dragon could. No one…
“The Overlord will not be alone at the Dragon’s Forge,” he said, knowing the tack he had to take. “There will be others. Dozens, hundreds, very soon thousands. All of them wishing to see and test the might of the Overlord. All of them bowing to his power and obeying his commands, and none of them wishing the Forge to be defiled by the presence of a alicorn. You are mighty, O Queen. You are a match for any dragon, any ten dragons. But you will face far, far more than that.”
That seemed to give Corona pause. She was an alicorn, the eldest alicorn that still roamed the world. And she controlled the Sun itself in the sky. Her power was immense and she was naturally ageless, and immune to any and every disease. But she was not, truly, immortal, nor anything resembling omnipotent. She could be injured, and even killed, if the force directed against her was mighty enough. Hundreds of dragons at a time all directing their power against her certainly qualified.
Yet, Solrathicharnon knew that she couldn’t bring herself to do nothing. Corona was mad, a tyrant who would likely burn all of Equestria if she were ever to gain control of it – but on some level, she truly did care for the ponies that looked so much like immature alicorn whelps. A draconic Overlord, a beast powerful enough to unite thousands of dragons under him, was a threat to those little ponies that she could not tolerate the existence of.
Solrathicharnon let Corona stew in indecision for several minutes as he continued his lazy circle beneath the alicorn, suppressing a grin the whole time. At length he spoke up. “I could go, O Queen.”
Corona’s gaze bore into him; he could feel it, even if he couldn’t see it. “You?” she demanded. “What makes you think that I would ever allow that, Solrath?”
She expected him to get riled up at that – particularly the use of a shorter version of his name, an insult in Draconic – and he indulged her, soaring up and putting his wings to work so that he could hover in place before Corona for the moment, look down at her for effect. “Because, O Queen, I am the mightiest of all dragons!” he roared for added effect. “For a dragon, age is our greatest source of power. And I am the eldest in the world! No matter if the whelp that thinks that he can proclaim himself Overlord, I am stronger, and I will crush him!”
The theatrics were necessary, and in no way beneath Solrathicharnon. Nothing was beneath him if it moved him closer to his goal. Corona scoffed. “So that you could proclaim yourself Overlord?” she demanded, beating her wings and rising up to stare into his blank eyes. “I rather think not, dragon.”
Omitting his name entirely and simply calling him dragon was such a grave insult that it wouldn’t even occur to most dragons. Solrathicharnon felt genuine rage grip his heart then, but he fought it and the flames in his belly down, controlling himself with practiced ease. “I cannot become Overlord,” he rumbled, diving down to beneath Corona and beginning to glide in a lazy circle once more, giving his wings a break from hovering in place. A very real amount of spite and bitterness tinged his voice now. “I am blind. A cripple. No dragon will follow a blind Overlord, no matter how powerful.” He turned his head towards Corona. “But nor would they follow an Overlord that could be defeated by a cripple. They would follow a whelp first.
“But powerful I am, O Queen. And I have no interest in soaring beneath an upstart hatchling. I cannot be Overlord, and if I cannot be, then there will be no Overlord.”
Solrathicharnon continued his long circling beneath Corona as he waited for her response. One circuit went by, then two, three…Corona was insane, but not stupid. She was weighing benefits verses risks, what she knew of dragons verses what she suspected, what she knew of Solrathicharnon verses what she suspected…she knew that he was not loyal to her in any true sense, that his loyalty was bought entirely by the fact that she was his best chance at striking at Luna, the Alicorn of the Night, the being that had blinded him and killed his father and four of his brothers. But at the same time, she knew that he was old, and that made him prideful. He would not bow to any Overlord that was less powerful than he – and what dragon in all of Cissanthema, in all of the world, could be mightier than Solrathicharnon the Red?
“Go,” Corona said at length, through grit teeth. “Slay the Overlord and disperse the dragon horde. And if you betray me in any way, Solrathicharnon…” she flew down, matching Solraths’s speed and movements yet flying sideways with little effort, staring into the dragon’s useless eye. “If you submit to the Overlord, if you find some way to become Overlord yourself…then not only you will die. I will destroy every dragon I ever come across. From the smallest whelp to the most ancient wyrm. You know I can do this.”
Solrathicharnon did. No, Corona couldn’t survive engaging hundreds of dragons at a time, but it would be a small matter for her to strike from the shadows, over and over again, whittling them away in hit-and-run strikes over the course of decades or centuries. Eventually she would be brought down, but the dragons that died in the meantime…yes, if she put her mind to it, Corona the Tyrant Sun could very nearly wipe out the draconic race, or a significant portion thereof.
The problem was that Solrathicharnon didn’t care. But Corona didn’t know that, and he saw little reason to enlighten her. So instead he played the part, let the tiniest amount of worry show through his façade of pride and arrogance. “I understand, O Queen Celestia,” he said, using the name she preferred, her true name.
“Good,” Corona said. “Now go.”
Solrathicharnon did, turning in the air and soaring to the Dragon’s Forge, some thousand miles and more distant. Were he not blind, he was sure that he would have been able to see at least two or three other dragons in the sky, all making their way in the same direction, an impromptu draconic migration towards the heart of their kind’s power on Cissanthema.
Once he was far, far away from Corona, Solrathicharnon allowed himself a small, genuine grin. This was all happening somewhat sooner than he would have liked, but he could work with this. Sooner or later he had intended to try and unite the dragons of Cissanthema beneath him. He couldn’t become Overlord, of course – it had been no lie to say that he was a cripple by draconic standards, that no dragon would follow a blind Overlord – but as long as he had the Rainbow of Darkness, he could adapt.
If everything went as planned…then soon, very soon, he would have his revenge.
---
My little pony, My little pony
Ahh ahh ahh ahhh...
My little pony –
We're as close as friends can ever be!
My little pony –
So come on take a trip with me!
A big world tour; new people to meet
New sights to see; and new things to eat
When you're seeing the world with your friends
The fun you'll have will never end!
You have my little ponies –
We'll be seeing all of you real soon!
---
Pferdreich was a country located to Equestria’s northwest. It was an exarchy of Equestria – technically under the control of Princess Luna, but allowed virtual independence in almost all internal matters. It was still subject to most of Equestria’s laws but fully empowered to interpret them and make its own, which were enforced by a democratically-elected council instead of a princess, grand duke, or other monarch like in most of Equestria’s exarchies. The ponies there spoke a language very similar to that spoken in the southernmost Griffin Kingdoms, and neither pony nor griffin could agree who were the original speakers. The Pferdreichers also had a weird cultural fascination with wearing clothes all the time, specifically dirndls on mares and lederhosen on stallions.
And that ran through just about everything Raindrops knew about Pferdreich. She would have liked to learn more about it, but then a bunch of dragons had started roaring and appearing in the sky, and things had, as a result, gotten more than a little hectic in the Pferdreicher capital city of Ferdchenwortspel. Perdenvordsel. Pferkenwortspeer –
“How do you pronounce it again?” Raindrops asked the magenta mare as the two were lead through the twisted corridors of the Kaiserpfalz, the main governmental building of Pferdreich.
“Pferdchenwortspiel,” Cheerilee supplied. “Pferd-kin-vort-shpeel.”
“Close enough,” One of the guards escorting the two supplied, his Equestrian accented but also fully understandable. Cheerilee flashed him a smile. She didn’t speak much Pferdreciher, but what little she did know was much better than Raindrops’ own, which was completely lacking.
Raindrops could only suppress a sigh. Things were not going anything remotely resembling ‘to plan.’ After Raindrops’ little excursion into the Griffin Kingdoms just a few weeks ago with Lyra, Princess Luna had hit upon the idea of sending Raindrops and the other bearers of the Elements of Harmony – Cheerilee, Lyra, Trixie, Ditzy, and Carrot Top – around the world, it seemed, or at least to Equestria’s neighbors and exarchies, in pairs. The idea was to allow the neighbors of Equestria to get to know the six of them, as they were, after all, fundamentally living weapons. Weapons that Raindrops was pretty sure could only be directed against evil and disharmony, but weapons nonetheless. The Elements of Harmony essentially amounted to Equestria gaining a new and relatively unknown advantage over the other nations of Cissanthema.
In addition, the six had become moderate celebrities, what with having saved Equestria twice, first from Corona and then later from the lich Grogar, and had also been popping up in the news rather frequently in other areas: the castigation of the Night Court, re-establishing contact with the lost sea pony tribes, the recent incidents in the Griffin Kingdoms, and a dozen other minor events. Princess Luna felt that it would be a good idea for the six of them to get out there and become known by the larger world, to steady relations and to ensure that nothing like what had happened with the Night Court would play out on an international stage.
Mostly, Raindrops had been pretty sure it was going to consist of her being away from Ponyville for two or three months, shaking a lot of hooves and going to a lot of dinner parties and making sure that ponies and other beings realized that, in fact, she had no interest in ‘destabilizing continental relations,’ ‘reinforcing Equestrian hegemony over the continent,’ ‘abusing her phenomenal cosmic power,’ and so on.
Then, the dragons had started roaring at the sky across the continent, and swiftly thereafter started flying overhead, all heading towards the Western Wilderlands – which meant that, of course, a lot of them were flying right over Pferdreich’s skies. This had prompted an emergency meeting of the Boonderat. Bunderrats. Bender –
“And the…council thing?” Raindrops asked.
“Bundesrat,” Cheerilee said. “Boon-des-rat. The Exarch Council.”
“Federal Council,” the guard escorting the two corrected. “Exarch council vould be Exarchenrat. But ve do not call it that here in Pferdreich.”
“Makes sense,” Cheerilee admitted.
Raindrops grunted again as the four of them reached a large set of oak doors. The doors to the throne room of Equestria, and to the large Chambers of the Night Court of Equestria, were both magically soundproofed, but the Bundesrat’s own chamber doors were apparently not: Raindrops could hear the hundred ponies on the other side arguing amongst themselves in loud voices.
Cheerilee and Raindrops exchanged glances. “What are we even doing here?” Raindrops asked.
“We’re the Elements of Laughter and Honesty,” Cheerilee supplied, tapping the gilt jewelry around her throat and pointing at Raindrops’ own Element around her own neck. The magenta mare then looked down at herself. “Though we don’t really look the part right now…”
When the dragons had started roaring, the two had been out in Pferdchenwortspiel, spending time sightseeing since Pferdreich was an exarchy and close ally of Equestria that had needed very little convincing of the Elements’ good intentions towards the world, and basically of the week they were scheduled to be here, six of the days could guiltlessly be spent on vacation. Cheerilee had gone full-tilt in that department, and was wearing the most touristy of dirndls to have ever been sewn, along with a pair of saddlebags filled to the brim with Maß, nussknacker, kuckucksuhr, and other souvenirs. Raindrops had resisted the urge for the most part, save for a Trab hat that currently adorned her head. She might have indulged in one of the pastries, as well, but before she could this whole mess had begun and their two Pferdreicher escorts had been ordered to hurry them to the Bundesrat.
“Point is that we’re here as representatives for Equestria, right?” Cheerilee asked. “Well, the Bundesrat is going to want to know that Equestria will protect Pferdreich if the dragons show up.”
“But what does that have to do with us?” Raindrops asked, glancing around. Save for the lack of magic soundproofing, the antechamber of the Bundesrat looked much like the one before the throne room of Equestria. “We don’t speak for Equestria. We don’t speak for anypony but ourselves.” She let out a long-suffering sigh, remembering the Griffin Kingdoms some more. “This is that symbolism thing again, isn’t it?”
“Afraid so,” Cheerilee said with a sad nod. She looked to their escorts. “Though shouldn’t the Equestrian ambassador be here, too?”
“He is on the vay,” the guard said, a unicorn, said. “But I vas instructed to take you directly before the Bundesrat.”
Raindrops looked up at the hat on her head, straightened it, adjusted the Element of Honesty around her neck, and then nodded. “Okay, then, let’s get this over with,” she said. Their escorts looked between each other, nodded as one, and opened the door to the Bundesrat.
Chaos lay on the other side. Sheer and utter chaos. Also a large, semicircular chamber full of ponies as surprisingly comfortable-looking chairs and small desks. But mostly there was chaos.
“Wir sind verloren. Verdammt!” cried one councilor. “Sind die Drachen anzugreifen?” Demanded another. “Vielleicht, wenn wir sie ignorieren, sie werden weggehen!” Posited a third. “Wir müssen darüber abstimmen!” Attempted a fourth. And so on, and so forth, ponies calling out back and forth between each other, rushing between desks, exchanging papers, at least when those papers didn’t go flying all over the place from somepony tripping or throwing them aside.
Cheerilee and Raindrops both paused once inside, glancing at each other. Cheerilee’s expression held a small amount of bemusement at the situation, though Raindrops knew that Cheerilee was just as concerned with the dragons flying over Pferdreich as anypony else in the room and simply put on a smile to try and help other ponies calm down. Raindrops, for her part, did very little to hide her unease and lack of enthusiasm at being thrown before the Federal Council of a nation whose language she didn’t even speak while thousands of dragons were in the sky.
“Die Elemente!” exclaimed a pony after a few moments, once Cheerilee and Raindrops were noticed. The word was close enough to its Equestrian equivalent that Raindrops understood that they were referring to her and Cheerilee, especially once a bit of calm finally penetrated the Bundesrat as everypony gathered looked to the two of them.
Raindrops shifted, then looked to Cheerilee, nodding her head towards the council. “You’re on,” she whispered.
Cheerilee swallowed, her calm demeanor faltering for just a moment. After that moment was gone, however, her calm and reassuring smile returned, as she trotted forward and to the center of the Bundesrat, Raindrops in tow and their two escorts following closely. “Good afternoon, everypony!” Cheerilee called. “My name is Cheerilee, Element of Laughter. And this here is Raindrops, Element of Honesty. We’ve been enjoying ourselves immensely here in Pferdreich! We didn’t have much time to see the countryside, of course, but as you can see we were doing a lot of shopping.” She shook her back to indicate her saddlebags full of souvenirs. “It was fun!”
The small entourage reached the center of the Bundesrat’s chambers. “Now, I know that what’s happening is very frightening. The dragons seem to have begun their migration much earlier than they were supposed to. It wasn’t scheduled until sometime next year, right? Well, we all know how schedules can sometimes change!” She laughed a little, and wasn’t bothered by the lack of laughter in response as she continued. “None of the dragons seem to be attacking anywhere. I’ll grant you that it’s more than a little scary to see eighty-foot-long, fire-breathing lizards soaring by, but all they seem to be doing is just flying around. There’s nothing wrong with that as long as that’s all they do. And I know that we’re ponies and we can get a little panicked when we see big things with sharp teeth, but dragons are, for the most part, petravores! They don’t eat ponies, just rocks and gems.
“I don’t have any answers for you. But I’m certain that Princess Luna is looking into the matter, and for now, there’s nothing to be afraid of as long as we stick together and don’t panic!”
Cheerilee closed off her impromptu speech with a bright smile and a raised hoof. At length, one of the Bundesrat councilors stood. “Petravores?” he asked. “They…eat stones und gemstones?”
Cheerilee nodded vigorously. “I mean, technically they can eat anything, but most they prefer those, yeah.”
“…this building is made of stone!” exclaimed one councilor.
“Und its tallest towers are topped vith diamond caps!” said another.
“Meine Halskette!” exclaimed a third, gripping at a necklace she wore studded with gemstones.
The panic began again, and Raindrops sighed. “Nice one.”
Cheerilee shot Raindrops a small glare, but then let out a long groan of their own. “They just need to work it out of their systems. Not everypony in the room has fought two dragons like us.”
Their two escorts started.
“I fought two dragons,” Raindrops corrected. “You hid from Spike.”
The two escorts looked between each other with alarmed expressions.
“No, you mostly were dealing with Zecora, remember?” Cheerilee asked. “I’m the one who climbed on Solrath’s back and kidney-bucked him.”
“Oh, right…well, I knocked Spike out.”
“Let’s just call it an even split. We’ve each fought a dragon.”
“I knocked one out. You just annoyed yours.”
“Hey, we made it out, didn’t we? And you were a hundred feet tall when you fought Spike. I was just me when I bucked Solrath.”
The two felt eyes on them, and turned to their escorts, who were staring at them and looked like they were wondering what they were even needed for. “We lead interesting lives these days,” Raindrops informed them.