//------------------------------// // 10. Treason // Story: The Age of Wings and Steel // by DSNesmith //------------------------------// Celestia hummed in delight. In the east, the sun had risen. She spun around on her circular platform, still basking in the afterglow of the magic. “Good morning, Equestria.” She did another twirl, letting the rush of the new day fill her up. Every time she raised the sun, the troubles of the world seemed to melt away in its warm light. The sun didn’t care about politics, or war, or fear, or death. It was just there, the last great constant in her life. As the world around her withered and grew old, the sun would remain. She closed her eyes again, trying to hold on to that feeling of ecstasy, of purpose. She giggled like a schoolfilly, feeling the sunlight tickle her face. She began hopping around on the platform, humming a little song to herself. It was incredibly un-princess-like, and she loved every minute of it. But at last reality began to seep into her sanctuary. The last few sparks of the magic faded away as the sun rose higher above the horizon. The dismal prospect of the day soured her mood. It was time to put the council to the vote. As she descended the tower steps, Celestia knew what the next hour would bring. It was what came after that she dreaded and feared. Should she follow Celerity to war, regardless of Blueblood’s actions? Or should she respect the free will of the council, even knowing it would bring about their destruction in the end? She and Luna had discussed this many times. If the gods ruled mortals directly, the potential for abuse was nearly unlimited. Power corrupted, and the gods possessed immense power even without the political service of an entire nation. And when they went bad, they went very bad. Her sister was the prime example. So could she, in good conscience, ignore the vote’s outcome? By pledging her support to Celerity’s efforts to hold back Grypha, she would be slapping Blueblood in the face. He would certainly pull Norhart out of the kingdom, then. Without his forces, Celestia doubted that even Celerity could defeat the griffons. And paradoxically, doing her best to stop the southern invaders would mean overriding the wills of the ponies she professed to serve. If she did not heed the wishes of her subjects, she was little better than a tyrant. Freedom, or safety? The choice was clear, but clarity did not make it any easier. If only Dawn’s message had come sooner, then perhaps Rye and Inger could have brought aid in time to prevent the invasion at all, but it seemed unlikely to happen now. The only question was how much of Equestria would burn before the end. She was still deeply conflicted by the time she reached the council chamber. She took her place on the throne, gazing around at the ponies already assembled in their seat cushions. The two major players had yet to arrive. Celerity, her once-beloved student, or Blueblood, the brash and willfully defiant noblepony? Would she follow her mind, or her heart? Both choices were confusing mixtures of the two. The duchess entered at last, dressed not in her usual finery but in simple white robes. The Princess’s stomach sank. It was unlike Celerity to attend a council session without being dressed to the nines. There were several possible explanations for the wardrobe change, and none of them good. She might no longer care about impressing the nobles, having already made her choice; or worse, the duchess was expecting a fight to break out, and intended to move freely. The duke entered, dressed even more surprisingly, in the full ceremonial armor of Norhart’s ruling house. Celestia’s eyes narrowed. If any spells flew in the council chamber today, she would end the fight. Swiftly. But Emmet took his place at the table without comment. “Everypony is present, Your Majesty.” Bergeron bowed and stepped back to take his place at the side of the throne. “Let this meeting of the Assembled Council of Equestria be opened,” said Celestia, dipping her head respectfully to the nobles. “I think we can skip the opening ceremonies, Your Highness,” said Celerity. “We have wasted enough time this week. This issue needs to be resolved today.” Celestia let the gaffe pass without comment. “Very well. Let us begin the vote.” She turned to Bergeron, who stepped forward to take the roll. The Princess raised her voice. “The kingdom of Grypha prepares to invade. If they march northward unopposed, our lands will surely fall. But I cannot act without the unanimous support of this council. So I put the question to you: Should the Celestial Army march south to aid the forces of Whitetail against the griffon threat?” Bergeron cleared his throat and began reading down the list. “Councilors, please state your vote, yea or neigh. Duchess Celerity Belle, of Whitetail.” “Yea.” “Lady Irvine, of Southlund.” “Yea.” “Lord Gerovic, of Breton.” “Yea.” “Viscount Mildemar, of the Delta.” “Abstain.” “Lord Three-river, of Rivermeet.” “Yea.” As the list moved on, Celerity hoped against hope that Emmet had miraculously seen reason during the night. Perhaps the vote would pass, and she could aid Celerity with a clean conscience. “Lord Everfree, of the province of Everfree.” “Abstain.” “Lord Westermin, of the province of Westermin.” “Yea.” “Lord Weatherforge, of the province of Weatherforge.” “Yea.” “Lord Easthill, of the province of Easthill.” “Abstain.” Celestia smiled. Lord Easthill was one of her most loyal council members. He would never vote unless she did first. “Lord Dalamant, of the Lake Country.” “I… abstain.” There was a murmur of surprise; most everypony had thought Dalamant to be solidly in Blueblood’s camp. Celestia felt a rush of hope. “Lord Greenway, of the province of Greenway.” Greenway squirmed, aware of the eyes of the council upon him. The Princess held her breath. “I too, abstain.” Celestia restrained herself from biting her lip. She leaned forward in the throne, her front hooves planted solidly on the table. “Lady Viola, of Norlund.” “I too, abstain.” It was impossible. All of Blueblood’s supporters were abstaining or even voting for war. Celestia could hardly believe it. “Lord Helmfast, of the province of Helmfast.” She waited with growing excitement. The lord of Helmfast looked around the table, squinting. He shook his head. “Neigh.” With a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, Celestia sat back on the throne’s cushion. Her haunches pressed up against the metal. She kept her face a mask. “Duke Emmet Blueblood, of Norhart.” “Neigh.” “Princess Celestia, of the Capital province.” “I abstain,” she said with a dry mouth, as was the throne’s normal vote in matters such as these. She rarely cast her vote unless it would be the deciding factor, and thanks to Helmfast and Blueblood the point was moot. Bergeron briefly tallied up the scores and read them off. It was an empty formality, but it gave Celestia a few moments to think. “Six votes in support of the motion, seven abstentions… and two against.” He looked up bleakly. “Motion has failed.” All of the councilponies looked to their Princess. What she did next could determine the future of her nation, but it could also determine what kind of ruler she wished to be, the very core of her being. She took a deep breath and looked at Celerity. Her old student’s eyes were pleading. Celestia opened her mouth hesitantly to speak. She closed her eyes, bracing herself. “Motion has failed. The Celestial Army will not march.” The chamber exploded. Every pony in the room was trying to talk at once, screaming to be heard above the noise. From the sides of her throne, the Firewings moved to stand between the Princess and the nobles. Celerity and Emmet had leapt onto the table, and were shouting into each other’s faces. The other nobles were hurling hooves and accusations at each other. It was complete chaos. There was a loud banging on the chamber door. The sound of a hoof beating away at the wooden frame rose over the arguing councilponies. Slowly, the commotion died down. All eyes turned toward the door. It pushed inward to admit a pegasus wearing the saddlebags of the royal courier service. He walked wordlessly into the chamber, approaching the table. Celestia watched with dread as he came closer, eventually reaching her throne. He reached into his bag, shakily, and pulled out a scroll. He handed her the message and fled the room. She lifted the scroll in front of her face with magic and gave a deep, weary sigh. The seal was black. The Princess broke the seal and unfurled the scroll. The council waited with bated breath as she scanned the report. At last, she folded the scroll and laid it down on the table. Quietly, she said, “Grypha has attacked the southlands. Sel-Paloth has fallen. As we speak, the griffons are pouring into Southlund.” Lady Irvine blanched. “My people… when did this happen?” “Three days ago.” Celestia wanted nothing more than to shove the letter into Blueblood’s mouth. That was where it belonged. Celerity, her old, devoted student, stood. “Blueblood, your folly has doomed us all.” She turned to the Princess. “Will you fight with us, Celestia? My armies stand ready to face the griffon threat. We will do so, with or without your aid.” The Princess looked beseechingly to the Duke of Norhart. “Emmet, please.” “I would rather die than see her seize control of Equestria,” snarled Emmet. Celerity gave him a withering glare. “You deluded imbecile.” “Princess Celestia, Duchess Belle is proposing treason. Arrest this bitch before she stabs you in the back!” The situation had spiraled out of control. The council divided visibly, the northern and southern delegates gathering around their leaders and screaming at the others. “Weatherforge stands with Whitetail!” “Helmfast remains loyal to Norhart!” “Westermin will follow Whitetail!” Celestia watched, trying to maintain her composure as her country ripped itself in half in a sickening mitosis. The factions withdrew from each other, shooting ugly stares at the opposite delegates. A few councilors sat in dismay, looking between the two groups. “So, Celestia,” said Celerity. “What’s it going to be? Will you help the south, or let the griffons storm their way up the land until Blueblood realizes that he’s brought our ruin?” Emmet shouted over her. "Princess, the north can only treat this treachery as it deserves. Celerity and those who side with her are enemies of Norhart and all Equestria!" “Celerity…” The Princess’s heart was heavier than it had been in centuries. “I cannot condone any action that would split the country apart. Please, reconsider the path you walk.” The duchess just shook her head grimly. “If the south must stand alone, then so be it. Goodbye, Celestia.” She turned and swept her robes behind her, striding out of the council chamber. “Celerity! Celerity! Come back!” Celestia rose to her hooves. “Celerity!” But the duchess was gone, along with her supporters. Blueblood made to follow her, giving the Princess a long look. “I know it may not mean much, Princess. But I am truly sorry it has come to this.” He shook his head slowly. “I must put to you the same question. Will you stand with me against Celerity’s tyranny?” “No,” said the Princess, feeling hollow. “I will have no part in your civil war.” Her voice turned hard and brittle. “Just remember this, Emmet. All the blood that will be spilled these next few weeks belongs to you.” The duke flinched at that, turning aside. He struggled to reply, before giving up and leaving the chamber. The northern delegates followed him out. Lord Sigmund Easthill approached the Princess, looking lost. “Your Majesty… what are we supposed to do?” The Princess looked out of the great stained glass windows of the council chamber, watching the blood-red light play on the carpet. “Tell your ponies to prepare for war.”