“I want the Regia on lockdown,” Lady Everstar said, rounding a corner at a high rate of speed with her assorted councilponies in tow. “Nopony comes in or goes out without my say-so, and I want flyers apprehended and brought to the castle grounds for interrogation. I want the chief of the police here in an hour or less, or he’s going to be replaced with a pony who can move more quickly. Move the wounded from the wall into urgent care, even if they don’t look like they need it.”
She threw open the doors to her throne room, a throng of nobility, soldiery, and other assorted mares and stallions of import doing their level best to keep up with her while keeping composed. They were the only ones doing so. Lady Everstar’s crown was missing, her dress was singed, and she reeked of smoke and fuel. A large bloody cut ran across her chin, and she favored one hoof, but despite all of that, the Flame in her chest burned brightly and the spark in her eyes spoke of dangerous energy.
“Captain Roughshod, your Guard will draw up a poster offering a reward for information leading to the apprehension of the agents involved in the attack on my city. Not only will this reward poster be put up here, it will be circulated across the Kingdom proper. I want the ponies responsible for this…atrocity…found and brought to justice.”
The Captain bowed hurriedly, locks of reddish mane falling over the patch covering one eye before disappearing through a side door in the gallery, walking just short of a run. Lady Everstar turned back to the officials cluttering her throne room. “The rest of you, if you have not been assigned duties, you are to assist with supplying relief efforts throughout the city. Keep the roads clear around your estates, cooperate with the Guard and constabulary, and don’t go anywhere.”
There was silence from the crowd below the dais, and Lady Everstar’s hoof slammed down on the stone floor with a thunderous crack, as the air in the throne room became noticeably warmer, her Flame flaring brightly. “Leave!” she demanded.
There was a stampede to the door, and the throne room was empty save for the Lady in record time. She collapsed onto her throne, exhausted and shaking, glad for the lack of company. She’d been hard-pressed to keep the fires from spreading, and though she wielded great power, it was an effort to keep it focused. The storms she had wrought were difficult in particular, currents of fanciful air slipping from her grasp at every distraction.
Thirteen Guards on the parapet and parade ground were killed in the explosion at the gate, and another nine caught in a secondary explosion that came from within the crowd of protestors they had been watching. Civilian casualties from that blast had numbered in the dozens. Thankfully, the third bomb had claimed no lives, though property damage to the shop fronts was severe enough to warrant extensive remodeling. The fourth and final explosion, claiming the airship, had cost the lives of all hooves on board, a hundred and twenty-two lost souls. Also caught in the blast and subsequent fire were nineteen yard workers, four weatherponies, and eight other ponies of the Navy. The total casualty list, nearly four hours later, came to just under two hundred ponies in her service, and several dozen civilians, the number yet to be determined.
Twilight allowed herself a shuddering sigh, massaging her head as she regained her composure, the bright light shining in her chest dimming just a little. To get it back to its normal self, she would need more time, spent in proper meditation. She wiped away water from the corner of one eye, telling herself it was a product of the smoke, and spoke.
“Turquoise, you can come out. I know you’ve got something for me.”
There was a rustle of silken wings, and a young mare with a coat of light blue and a mane of shocking white detached herself from the ceiling, spreading her wings wide to slow her fall. She came to a halt scant inches above the ground, hovering in place, before folding her wings neatly and kneeling before her liege.
“Milady,” she said calmly. “I bear…news. I fear you will not like it.”
Twilight said nothing, merely motioned for Turqouise to continue, contemplating a burn on her dress.
“The attacks were synchronized to shepherd the caravan containing your daughter towards the airfield, and were conducted using simple explosives rigged with clockwork fuses. We’ve tested the ruins for explosive residue, and determined the alchemical components. They’re old stock from our munitions factories, at least twenty years, if not more. We think that whoever set off these bombs got the explosives from a disposal site.”
“So they’re either very good, or they’ve got a pony on the inside of an ammunition disposal ground,” Twilight mused.
Turquoise flinched. “We believe the latter, Milady. The rest of the attack seems too…amateurish for them to have done this kind of thing before. As it was, they barely managed to accomplish their goal of shepherding the caravan towards the ship.” Her voice grew troubled. “Milady…there is more. Please, do not be angry with me, Milady, I beg of you.”
Twilight looked at Turquoise for the first time, and the mare took a few steps backwards, ruffling her wings nervously. “Turquoise,” she said quietly, “Is there something wrong with my daughter?”
“I received a call from Captain Fidelis using the usual network, Milady,” Turquoise said softly. “There was an attack on the train. Explosives rigged to the car in which your daughter was riding.”
There was a crack of thunder, a terrible rush of light, and then, quite without meaning to, Lady Everstar felt her magic shatter every window in the throne room. Turquoise fell back with a yelp, feathers flying from her wings and fur from her chest to reveal shining gossamer and smooth chitin. The temperature in the room rose to that of the air near a bonfire, and Turqouise scrambled back to her hooves.
“Milady!” she called. “They were small charges! They merely separated the car from the rest of the train!”
Twilight, hovering several meters in the air, made a titanic effort of will, and the heat dissipated. The blinding light dimmed, and as she sank to the ground, the glass from the shattered windows rained down onto the floor with a tinkling crash. Turquoise noticed that the glass fell not in panes or shards, but in drops, warped and molded by intense heat. Even at the height of her shock, Lady Everstar had directed her anger towards an acceptable target. If she had not, there was a very good chance one of her most faithful servants would have been reduced to an ashy smear before she could draw the breath to scream.
“Where are they?” the unicorn snarled, her dress smoldering away to cinders, revealing the bright Flame burning on her belly.
Turquoise knelt in obeisance, keeping her wings flat to the floor, uneven though they now were. “We do not know, Milady. Captain Fidelis ordered the train reversed, but they were unable to determine what exactly transpired in the train car. Tracks lead from the car along the south side of the rails, and from there into the thickest of the woods. They did, however, find elf-shot in the car.”
With a focus now available for her anger, Lady Everstar took several deep breaths, composing herself. The fire in her breast flickered and burned a little lower, though it was still too bright to look directly upon, a beacon of shimmering white fury. Lady Everstar took her throne once more, steam escaping from her nostrils as she contemplated what course of action was best to take.
At last, she spoke. “Turquoise, please repair your disguise. Contact the Hives nearest the Forest, as well as Homehive. Alert Queen Feldspar that I’m going to be borrowing some of her drones. Until such time as we discover what has happened to my daughter, my personal energies will be directed towards finding her. In the meantime, please return to your station and continue working on discovering the group or groups behind the attacks today.”
Lady Everstar’s horn flashed a brilliant purple, and her crown reappeared on the floor in front of her, dusty and covered in soot. It glowed faintly with heat. “I want the ponies responsible for the attacks brought to justice,” she growled, “And the ones responsible for the attack on my daughter dead and their heads mounted on pikes. Leave me now.”
Turquoise bowed once more, green fire enveloping her as she took to the air once more, sailing out through a conveniently opened window. Already she was humming out a message to every one of her brothers and sisters in the city, making sure her Lady’s commands were heard from here to Homehive and beyond.
Twilight watched her go, brow creased with worry. Wherever her daughter was, she needed to be found quickly. There were worse things in the Everfree than wild animals, much worse. As she began to prepare to receive guests, among them the chief of the constabulary, her thoughts turned once more to the identity of the ponies who had attempted not just to kill soldiers and civilians, but to assault her daughter or worse.
It was clearly somepony with access to the plan, somepony who was present when she had gone over the route for the parade a few days prior, or somepony who would have stumbled across the plan after the briefing. They’d need to have moved quickly and efficiently, and above all, not aroused any suspicion that they were passing information along. In short, a spy. An experienced agent, no less. But who? She was sure that nopony had been present at the briefings that wasn’t associated with the Guard in a major capacity. The plans themselves hadn’t been committed to paper, merely indicated on a map of the city which anypony could have picked up at a bookstore for a paltry sum. Whoever it was had been there, at the meeting, or had been one of the subordinates the captains were allowed to speak to about the plan.
Twilight’s eyes widened, and she gasped as she came to the realization that the only ponies who had known the route as well as the backup route were the ponies who were escorting her daughter out of the gates.
Serale’s personal Guard had a spy in the ranks.
The grove in the middle of the Regia was not well-used, only available through a single door in one of the lesser-used utility corridors. It was so inaccessible by design, though it was never kept locked. The peculiar magic in that grove did not respond well to being contained, though it could have cared less about being hidden.
Within the grove grew seven trees, planted close as saplings and carefully nurtured, kept in trust by a group of farmers near Ponyville whose charter had ended centuries ago. Rowan, ash, yew, maple, apple, thorn and oak grew together, branches twining together in very carefully made patterns that seemed like nothing but chaos to the untrained eye. They were kept well-watered with rain drawn from the culverts on the highest tower, and though they had enough sun to grow, the grove itself was kept in a perpetual, sleepy twilight most of the time.
It was in this grove that Twilight Sparkle knelt, making her preparations. Most of her magic could be done without such tools as circles or runes now, but in delicate cases such as this, it paid to be careful. In the small clearing made by the trees, a cavern of roots and branches with only one entrance, she had drawn an intricate circle, made of interlocking lines that curved in graceful arcs, runes connecting them. In the center of the circle lay a small seed. Which seed was placed in the circle depended on the need, but for now, she had taken a berry from the rowan tree, the tree of travelers and divination. It seemed appropriate.
With a few murmured words and an outpouring of power that, in her youthful days, would have seemed more than massive, Twilight Sparkle felt her consciousness pour forth from her body, borne on wild tides of magic that she could only begin to grasp, and without any warning, begin to expand. First she became aware of the grove, then the castle, then the city, then the surrounding countryside, the Everfree Forest and into Equestria…
With a grunt, she reigned herself back. It was difficult, especially for a mind as inquisitive as hers, and Radiant Zenith had warned her of the draw inherent in the spell when she taught it to her, long ago. Too many would-be diviners had ended up as happily crooning vegetables as their minds scattered on the wind, examining far-off points of the universe. But she possessed a stronger will than most anypony, and she was able to draw herself back in, a single consciousness borne on the magical current of the Everfree Forest.
Immediately, she felt inquisitive nibbles from the denizens there, testing her to see if she could make a decent meal or thrall. But she bit back, not to kill, but merely enough to warn, and soon enough, she was left alone. Sending herself deep into the Forest, she found the tracks easily enough. They were spelled iron, strong enough to ward away most magic of the Forest, though conductors on that track still exercised the utmost caution. Though she was not a denizen of the Forest, she still felt a wave of nausea and repulsion as she forced her will down the tracks much faster than any train could even hope to go.
She found the site of the crash like a normal pony would find a house fire. The train had returned, of course, reversing itself for the passengers that had been left behind, but the train was not her goal. Twilight made her will congeal, forced herself to gain eyes to see and ears to hear, a ghosting of herself that bent down to examine the tracks with eyes made only of magic, to allow her to see what she could not in person.
The explosion had damaged the wards on the track, or else they had been damaged with an explosive before the train had arrived. The cold fire of the iron was not as strong here. Though the train car with the actual arrows had gone, Twilight could still see the trails left behind by the bolts as shimmering snakes of energy through the air. Elf-shot, from a properly made bow, found its target almost unerringly. But either the occupants of the car had been extremely lucky, or the Fae had shot to warn. She felt no death on the tracks or near them.
The north side of the track, however, was a different matter. There she could feel maybe a dozen recently-killed ponies quietly moldering away, little bits of their souls still clinging to their bodies, enough for a determined necromancer to use if they cared. It was also notable that the attack had come from only the north, and only the north. Even in the depths of winter, she could feel the difference in energy on both sides of the track. The southern side spoke of summer stars, and sweet wine and languid passions, the hallmark of the Seelie. The northern side, in contrast, was bitter winds, blood and fierce hunger and desperation. Unseelie, then, had lured the would-be ambushers into the woods and killed them. But why then attack the car?
A slight tug from the south side made her turn her head. She followed an eddy of magic alongside the tracks, and caught impressions of fear, confusion, and apprehension. The Guards, then, had travelled alongside the south of the tracks. None of the shining tracks of elf-shot fell here, which meant that they had been let go. A smart move, Twilight thought. Wars between the Courts had been started for less than arrows fallen in territory belonging to the other side.
The trail came up short, and Twilight saw the blood on the branches of the trees before she noticed anything else. She knew then what had been done. Somepony had bartered for passage here, at a gate into the heart of one side’s territory. The blood looked familiar to her, and it took only a cursory examination to realize that Cobblestone had made payment; most likely at the behest of the thing she called Hob. Wherever they had gone from there, Twilight realized, was anypony’s guess, as well as whether or not they had arrived safe, sane, and together. With a grimace, she let her consciousness disperse, returning to her body in the grove, many miles away. She hoped Cobblestone realized exactly what she had pledged when she bled on the forest floor of the Fae.
Creed shivered and drew his cloak close as he shouldered his way through the wind, which was digging claws into him like a wild animal. The way was dark, and the constables and Guards were out in force, but tonight was important, and he would not be gainsaid when his compatriots back at the inn begged him to stay.
“It’s none of your business if I stay or go,” he had said. “I need to meet somepony tonight, and I can handle myself.”
He’d turned down the offer of an escort, made absolutely sure that nopony was following him, and even ducked into a nearby tavern for a quick drink to give the impression to a potential tail that he was simply looking for a quiet drink. The mood that night was dour, and all talk was about the bombings on the upper tier of town. He studiously avoided getting drawn into a conversation, letting the words wash over him like a balm for his admittedly frayed nerves.
Ponies were afraid. Protestors had died, guards had died, and one of the Kingdom’s airships, the juggernauts of the skies, had gone down in flames today. Curfew had been imposed in certain sections of the city, though thankfully not around here. Above all other questions remained the one that was the most simple and direct. Who was responsible?
Creed finished his beer, leaving coin on the counter, and continued outside after a quick peek out of the windows. He was relatively certain he hadn’t been followed, but it never hurt to check. Bracing himself, he headed back out into the bitter wind, now laden with mixed sleet and rain.
It was cold tonight, colder than it had been the past few nights, when the League had been busy planting its bombs. Creed would normally have decided against such rash action, but the committee had agreed that a bigger gesture than a protest was needed, especially in light of the attack on the arena. The bombs they had planted used the very last of their explosive, but if things went well tonight, the obsolete charges would be replaced with something considerably more substantial.
The sound of a clock tower rung out over the city, letting all know that the hour was nine. Creed was almost late, but he had accounted for every possibility, and his destination was a mere block away. Quickly, he turned the last corner, his destination in sight.
The building was constructed largely of brick, but was easily three times the size of any structure near it, brightly painted with images of cavorting ponies, mugs in hooves, and the outside shone with magelights in a dozen colors, lending the illusion of movement to the painted images. The roof was made largely of glass, a horrendous expense, but it too was enchanted to keep the panes clear of any ill effects from the weather, including the freezing temperatures. This place was known as Place du Rivage, and indeed, a balcony did extend out from the back over the great river that ran through the city, though few would be using it on a night like tonight.
Normally, a pony like Creed would be turned away at the door, but then, he wasn’t going to the door. Ducking down the alley, he found the side door, left surreptitiously unlocked, and pulled it open. Inside, just as he was told he would, he found a small bag, inside of which was a jacket, tie, and a small bottle of cologne. The washroom was on his left, and he emerged a scant ten minutes later a changed pony. Nervously, he straightened his tie. He didn’t want to keep Lady Hedera waiting, but he felt that somehow, showing up disheveled would be looked upon even more unfavorably. Silently, he satisfied himself that he looked presentable, slipped through the kitchens, where he wasn’t spared a glance, and emerged into the Place du Rivage.
The club was perhaps a bit empty that night, but for the Rivage, that didn’t mean much. The Rivage was famous for its cuisine, and had at one point been a restaurant of some acclaim, but recently it had found new life as a proper dancing club, and some of the biggest and best names in music played the stage nightly. Currently on the stage was an eighteen-piece swing band, and the dance floor was, as usual, packed with couples swaying and swinging to the beat.
He cast an eye around the room, looking for Lady Hedera’s table, and found it. The table was the one of the few private booths in the place, and every table save one was empty, curtains drawn back and waiting forlornly for a customer with the clout and coin to claim it. Lady Hedera’s table, by contrast, was hidden behind thick red velvet curtains, embroidered in gold. Creed drew a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet stench of cigar smoke, and pushed to the table, drawing the curtains aside.
What he saw before him made his heart skip a beat and his cheeks flush. Instead of Lady Hedera’s long blonde hair and blue eyes, a pair of lovely golden orbs peered at him beneath a bob of white hair. She wore a long, tight dress of green fabric, patterned with sequins, a slit up one side showing off the graceful curve of one leg. It contrasted well with the deep, dusky black of her coat, and Creed could smell perfume, something floral, rising from that coat.
Lily batted her eyelashes and Creed’s world spun. “Good evening, Mister Creed,” she said. “Lady Hedera sends her apologies; her duties to the Lady keep her tonight. She sent me instead.”
“I…” Creed stammered. “I wasn’t expecting you. It’s good to see you again, Lily. How have you been? I haven’t seen you since…”
“The last time you came by the House,” Lily said with a smile. She gestured to the chair across from her. “Please, have a seat. I ordered some wine, it should be by shortly.” Noticing the expression on his face, her smile turned rueful. “The vintage in question is sealed in wax. They remove the wax at the table to see that no…atmosphere has been added to it before we drink.”
Creed nodded, taking his seat. He’d have to watch her carefully as she drank, keep an eye on her for signs of drugs or poison. Though even that may not be enough, the poison might be in the glasses. He almost wished Lady Hedera was here now. There’d be no way he could keep his head around Lily.
“You look nervous, Mister Creed,” Lily said. “I promise, nothing untoward will happen tonight. Well,” she amended with a grin that was considerably more saucy than the sweet smile she usually wore, “Not unless you want it to. You’re a partner of Lady Hedera. She keeps her partners safe, and honors her agreements.”
“I’m not one to take ponies at their word,” Creed replied, loosening his tie a bit. “It’s kept me alive so far.”
Lily shrugged, a motion which delighted Creed, and motioned through the parted curtain for the wine to be brought. The waiter worked with admirable efficiency, placing two thin-stemmed glasses on the table at almost the same time he produced a paring knife, which made Creed a bit jumpy. Drawing the bottle forth from his cart, he pruned the wax from the top with haste, inserted the corkscrew, and with the strength and skill borne of long practice, popped the cork. He bowed, placing the bottle on the table, and retreated through the curtains, drawing them behind him.
Lily, without prompting, poured the wine, leaving two glasses for Creed to take in a clear invitation. Her way of showing him the glasses had not been tampered with, he supposed. He selected one at random and waited. She raised her glass to his.
“A toast,” she said. “To new beginnings.”
Creed said nothing, waiting for her to take a sip. She did so, and he followed suit, waiting to swallow until he saw the telltale working of the muscles in her neck. He had to admit, the wine was good. Fruity, a little spicy, with floral notes similar to the perfume she was wearing. Lily, or Lady Hedera, or whoever had set this night up, had planned everything out perfectly. Creed had the nagging sensation he was far out of his league.
“Now, to business,” Lily said. “To get it out of the way and let us enjoy our evening.”
“The first operation was a success,” Creed said. “Not only that, it rid me of the last few ponies in the League who might have tried to get rid of me.”
“Not complete success, though,” Lily said. “The young Master Hedera is still alive, and the plan was for the carriage to remain pinned down by the Fae for a while longer yet.” She reached into a bag by her side, one Vino hadn’t noticed before, and withdrew a slim folder of red leather. “As it is, it seems that the young mage managed an escape with all ponies in tow. No telling if they all made it out, but they certainly were no longer with the car.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Creed said, taking another mouthful of his wine. It really was excellent. “Tell me,” he said, “Why does Lady Hedera want her son dead so badly? She has the House, doesn’t she?”
Lily fluttered her wings nervously. “Well,” she said, “It’s not my place, but I think I can give you an explanation. Lady Hedera never said not to, anyway. It has to do with inheritance here in the Kingdom. Vino is Lady Hedera’s stepson, and the inheritor of the House on Lord Hedera’s side by his first wife.”
“The mare in the portrait hall,” Creed said, remembering the mare with the black hair and laughing green eyes.
Lily nodded. “Her,” she said. “Vino’s the heir to the House. All of it. Once he comes of age, the House is his, and his mother, while still part of the family, will have no say into how the House is run in the eyes of the law. There’s no love lost between them, and if Vino takes the House, then Lady Hedera’s going to be in some trouble.”
She stared into her wine morosely. “Lady Hedera’s been so good to us,” she said sadly. “Given us places to sleep, work, a purpose, goals…there’s not a pony in the House who wouldn’t give everything to see her happy. And the only way to keep her happy is…”
“To kill the colt before he comes back and takes his House,” Creed said.
Lily shrugged. “It’s not good work,” she said, “But it needs doing. That’s not why we’re here.”
Creed shook himself. “Right,” he said, “The business. Sorry. You’re different from when I first met you, more forward.”
Lily gave him another roguish grin. “I’ve got to be proper in the House and serving my Lady,” she said. “But this is who I am. Not that playing the submissive type isn’t fun, but before I was in service to the Lady, I was a different type of pony. Which reminds me,” she said with a wink.
“You’re going to be taking possession of a number of items,” she said. “With the understanding that you’ll recruit more to help you use them. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Lady Everstar’s scared,” Creed replied. “Already curfews are in place, and I overheard a few Pegasi grumbling about being grounded on the way over. They’ll put up with it as long as they don’t have to leave their comfortable lives, but take away their luxuries and it won’t be long until the fire starts.”
“Fires are good,” Lily said, perhaps a bit breathlessly. “Bullets too. Bombs, better than the ones you were using, and funding as you need it. There’s also a printing-house that was just closed down on the south side that has been re-purchased for your use. I’ve read some of your work, it’s good. This’ll make it better.”
Outside the band reached a crescendo, and the ponies on the dance floor erupted into applause. Creed looked out of the curtains to see a new pony taking the stage, this one a pegasus mare wearing coattails and a strange cylindrical hat. With a flourish, she began to conjure strange items, seemingly from within it, items like a sword, a wand, and at one point, even a live rabbit.
“What are you thinking about?” Lily asked.
“It’s strange,” Creed said. “Ever since I was a young colt, I’ve wanted to change things in this Kingdom. The Lady promised us that we wouldn’t be ruled by gods or immortal masters, and yet she’s held power here for four hundred years. Did you know we tried to get her to abdicate?”
Lily’s eyes widened. “You asked her to give up her throne?” she exclaimed. “What did she say?”
“I can remember her sitting there, she looked so young,” Creed said. “It was a year or two after she died. We came to her with a petition, over a thousand of us had signed it. She had an heir, now. Somepony to take her throne, a mortal like us. We wanted her to step down, make room for ponies to rule themselves. We nearly got laughed out of the courtroom, and of course she said no. She said it was ‘for the common good’. The common good, for one pony to hold power for four hundred years and counting.”
Creed reached for the bottle and poured another glass, as his had gone dry. “Did you know ponies used to rule themselves?” he asked. “It’s true. There are records, very old ones. I’ve seen them, written in old runes when I was a kid. They decided amongst themselves what to do, how to divide work, what they wanted from life. It wasn’t always perfect, but I think it’s a better alternative to the four gods we have on thrones now.”
He took another sip of wine, and swirled it around in the glass, contemplating it in the dim light of the booth. “I believe that the common good for mortal ponies should be decided by mortal ponies,” he said. “And if Everstar and the other three goddesses don’t want to give up their power, then so help me, we’ll tear them down.”
Lily looked at him strangely, and then, without warning, she lunged across the table at him, and before Creed could react, her lips were on his own, and he could taste the wine and the mint on her breath, and he could also taste a promise of things to come.
Lily made good on those promises that night.