Return to Equestria: The Rise of Roam

by Daniel-Gleebits

An Example of Kindness Beyond Compare

Return to Equestria: The Rise of Roam

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza

For a long moment, Cadence allowed the sounds all around her to simply wash across her senses. She found it easier to process things when she didn’t have to actually take in individual meanings; doing so was like trying to listen to an individual bee buzzing in a swarm. It was ultimately futile, and simply the wrong approach to take; what mattered was the dance.
Opening her eyes, the glint of coloured sunlight washed over her as the stain-glass windows all around dazzled her momentarily, but she recovered quickly. The debate was still ongoing, with both houses having set up an unorthodox meeting to discuss the current crisis.
“But what is to be done?”
What indeed, she thought sluggishly.
“This is simply not the sort of thing that can be ignored!”
If only I could.
This thought jarred at her internal sense of duty. She shook herself discreetly and directed her eyes in the direction of a high desk. The three most powerful positions in the room stood at either ends of the hall. Cadence’s throne stood grand on the northern tip of the room, whilst opposite her stood the rounded edge of the speaker’s platform draped in the flag of state. Whereas there were usually only three ponies there at any given time – whichever house head happened to be present at the time, and two clerks – today there sat five. Whilst this might sound as though the desk was crowded, nothing could be further from the truth. Both the Prime Minister and the Lord Chancellor sat next to each other, both banging their gavels and bellowing for order from their respective houses, whilst their three clerks waited patiently for there to come some actually intelligible report to make. The rest of the house was in uproar.
“Order!” Chancellor Old Guard roared. “There shall be order in this council!”
“Oh, I’m sure that there will be!” cried a delegate. “We’ve all heard of the kind of order the Roamans impose.”
“My city has heard all too well!” cried another, meaningfully. “Situated as close to the border as we are.”
“We can’t jump to any conclusions!”
“This kakistocracy will doom us all!”

It was at this point that Cadence usually wished to interject. Long experience however, had taught her that her input is best remembered when it is the last word. Her proclamations were law, and so she had to make them heard. A challenging prospect to be sure in this cacophonous din.
Cadence had few true allies among the politicians here. Those that she did have she held close, and entrusted with a great deal.
“Silence!
Cadence had to repress a small smile here. It was remarkable and not a little strange in actuality that somepony with such a shrill and piercing voice could make such a good speaker. It was one of those rare occasions where what the speaker was saying managed to overcome the negative qualities of their voice.
Though perhaps the scratchiness makes sure that everypony can hear her, Cadence thought, wickedly.
Prime Minister Filly Buster was on her hooves, glaring around at the assembled. With her sharp yellow eyes and short, ginger mane, she looked so much like a lion that it was quite disconcerting to hear the bird-like voice. Adjusting her half-moon glasses, the Prime Minister tapped her hoof twice on her dark wood desk.
“This stalemate will not do. Improper though it might be, it seems that cool heads must seize the day before we leap headfirst into disaster!”
Cadence whimsically thought about having dramatic music playing above. Beethoofen’s Requiem would have suited the atmosphere, but Filly Buster’s concrete gravity and never-ceasing barrage of reigned-in-expletives frankly put Cadence in mind of Offenbuck’s Galop Infernal.
Next to the Prime Minister, Chancellor Old Guard brought up the bass. From beneath a large and unnaturally orderly moustache, his voice boomed like the harbinger of doom upon a dying world.
“Enough debate,” he said solemnly. “This meeting is adjourned until the members of each house can act their age.”

Unlike usual, Cadence remained seated as the various representatives and bureaucrats left the hall. Her eyes on the Chancellor and Prime Minister, they approached in formal fashion.
“Princess, I’m afraid that this simply will not do!” the Prime Minister began.
“For once I am most ardently in favour of the Prime Minister’s approach, your highness,” the Chancellor rumbled. “This situation might well have been avoided.”
“The information is to be trusted,” Cadence replied, gazing intently into their eyes.
“That is not the issue, ma’am,” the Chancellor sighed. He levitated a handkerchief to his forehead and dabbed a little at the sweat. “I wish that you could have come to myself or the Prime Minister privately about this before announcing it in council.”
“The news of Roaman activity on the border is most inauspicious,” the Prime Minister added, firing her words off like a machinegun. “The houses almost never agree as it is, and the internal divides are just as crippling. The blocs are even now choosing sides.”
The Chancellor let out a wheezy breath of air. “Quite. The various departments take their views upon war very differently. The Roamans have a talent for making war profitable, but Equestria is not Roam. War would be an economic disaster.”
“Indeed!” the Prime Minister yipped. “And the various cities see things differently as well. Most don’t wish for war at all, but the border cities are deeply concerned. And Cloudesdale is even now trying to drum up support for a pre-emptive strike! Have you ever heard of such lunacy!”
“Speaking of which,” one of the clerks said, tentatively walking forward and bowing low to Cadence. “A list of signatures was delivered to the Foreign Office today regarding, um... something that requires your highness’ attention.”
Cadence took the offered scroll and read the short message, and skimmed the list of names. She bit her lip, and then unbit it. If things had come to this, then perhaps the situation was direr than she’d thought.
“Your highness?” the Chancellor asked delicately.
Cadence turned the list around for them to see. Filly Buster regarded the proposition with a curious stare, occasionally glancing at Cadence as though looking for a sign of something. Old Guard on the other hand took a moment to place a set of small, round glasses on his thick snout, and then spluttered indignantly.
“P-Preposterous!” he choked. “Ask for Princess Luna’s assistance!? Absolute madness!”
“Chancellor, must you be so short sighted?” the Prime Minister demanded, acidly.
Before Old Guard could get over his huffing and coughing enough to respond, Cadence stepped in.
“Nothing has been decided upon,” she said firmly.
“But your highness!” the Chancellor chuffed like an old steam engine. “Such a matter as sovereign-to-sovereign diplomacy is, strictly speaking, entirely in your hooves!”
“All decisions are ultimately in her hooves,” the Prime Minister said pedantically. “The houses are a farce. True power rests with the Princess.”
“Legitimately, yes,” the Chancellor grunted. “But the capture of Princess Celestia and betrayal by Luna left the public—“
“Lord Chancellor,” Cadence said quietly. “Please keep all accusatory diction to your private discussions if you please.” She eyed the old unicorn steadily for a moment. It gave her no pleasure to see the beads of sweat reforming on his brow, but she would not have such lies spoken directly in front of her. She may not be able to change the public’s knowledge as a whole – try though she had – but she would not tolerate Luna’s compassion and empathy be called a crime in her presence.
“Princess Luna’s decision saved an entire civilisation from almost certain extinction. I may not be able to make you or anypony else see the good in her actions, but I will not have them spoken of in my palace.”
“Your palace, your highness?” Old Guard asked, dabbing his brow again.
Cadence’s chest clenched. The old, old argument. The constant challenge. Cadence was long passed being sick of it. She stared at the stout old stallion like the pencil pusher he really was. How easy it would be – in principal – to reduce him to a quivering wreck. To rob his mind and replace it with nothing but a teenager’s one-track—
“How dare you speak to her highness that way!” Filly Buster erupted. “You stand before her, casting spurious accusations about events so long ago that—“
“Thank you, Prime Minister,” Cadence said over her rant. “As you said, Chancellor. Until cooler heads preside, we shall adjourn.”
Old Guard glanced between the Prime Minister and his Princess. Then without a word he marched for the door, two of the three clerks following him. Cadence watched him out, and then raised a hoof.
“Leave us.”
The guards exited the room. As soon as the door closed, Cadence exhaled, and allowed the trembling to go on unimpeded. It was too much to bear.
“Your highness...” the Prime Minister began tentatively.
“I’m fine,” Cadence said quickly. “Really. I’ve been doing this job for seventy years. You’d think I’d be good at it by now.”
Filly Buster regarded Cadence for a moment or two, and then gave her assistant a single curt look. The last clerk exited the room.
“Your highness, if I may speak plainly, I don’t think that any other princess could have done any better with the situations that you’ve been presented with. It’s all been utterly rapid-fire, problem after problem, impeded all the while by a forced process of democratic debate that’s done more to hinder the—“ She cut herself off. Perhaps the acoustics of the empty chamber made her more aware of the fact that she was ranting.
“I appreciate your faith, Prime Minister. I honestly do. However, and I’m sure you know that this is never to leave this room, but if any conflict with Roam arises... well.”
“I’m aware of that, your highness,” Filly Buster said, unusually quietly. And then in a spectacular return to form: “Which is yet another example of the costly incompetence the current system is! The military could easily be twice the size it is now with the current amount in the royal coffers.”
“Equestria has never been much of a military power,” Cadence sighed morosely. “We don’t have the tradition that Roam has.”
Filly Buster seemed to be chewing the inside of her mouth. With a reluctance that was, again, entirely foreign to her character, she asked “Your highness... might I inquire as to how you came by this information about Roam’s activities? The specific source, I mean.”
“I received the information from border intelligence,” Cadence said, massaging her temple.
“Yes,” Filly Buster said, licking her lips and pulling out a yellow paper from the folder she was carrying. “Yes, it details that in your deposition. But, if you don’t mind, what I wanted to know is—“
“I know what you meant,” Cadence said gently.
The Prime Minister held Cadence’s gaze for a moment or two. “Your highness... if I might be so bold... you know that you can tell me if something is troubling you. Anything at all.”
Cadence smiled a little sadly. It genuinely pained her to keep secrets from those she trusted. But this wasn’t something up for debate.
She put a hoof on Filly Buster’s shoulder. “There are certain things that you know that I can’t share with you. Things that would harm you if ponies found them out. You are one of my oldest friends, and I hate keeping things from you, but there’re some things that I simply must carry alone.”
Filly Buster looked as though she wanted to say something more, but she seemed to decide that it would be pointless to press the point further. Touching the hoof on her shoulder, she turned to the main door. A hoofstep or so from it, she looked back.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, your highness,” she called back. “I think that you carry too much as it is.”

Other than Shining Armour, Cadence shared more with Filly Buster than with most anypony; she didn’t take omitting things from her lightly. The fact that Luna’s changeling spies had brought reports that Roam was making suspicious movements on the border was a troubling development. The number one priority of the Equestrian nation for over fifty years was the return of Princess Celestia. It was a widely accepted opinion that a great many of Equestria’s problems would be solved by the return of the rightful ruler: The government would no longer be subject to the council and Cadence, and restore the populace’s confidence in their safety and livelihoods. Equestria might then be reunited, with Luna being brought back into the fold under her sister’s watchful eye, and a cure found for the results of the plague. Cadence would be free to return to the Crystal Empire, and everything could return to normal.
It was a naive hope that Cadence clung to as though it were her only surviving child. The only dark spot in this wonderful dream was her aunt seeing just how badly she’d managed Equestria in her absence.

“You mustn’t go to sleep thinking that sort of thing, my love,” Shining Armour said soothingly.
Cadence shifted in bed. She glanced at the windows; silvery light filtered down through the high windows and onto the ornate surroundings. Cadence felt a pang at the thought of how perfectly the palace suited both Celestia and Luna, bathed in gold in Celestia’s sun and platinum in Luna’s moon.
“You’re coming to bed, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.
Shining paused long enough for Cadence to know what he was about to say was a lie. “Yes, I was just going to post the guard schedule first,” he said, giving her a tender look. “Just a minute.”
Cadence watched him trot to the door and pick up a roll of paper. An open door, a quick conversation, and he was back in the room, dropping his uniform into a nearby chair.
“Did you order the Hayseed Provincials to the southern border?”
“Yes, Cadence,” Shining replied, a sideways smile playing on his mouth.
“Has the War Office been notified of the movements?”
“I relayed the order through them. I would, since I run the War office.”
“Oh, right. Well did you—“
“Cadence, stop,” Shining said, putting a hoof to her mouth. “Look, I know that you’re worried. More than usual. But you have to rest. You’ll make yourself ill with worry.”
Tired as she was, she didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to talk to Shining, remove all of her worries and concerns by explaining them to him. He was her husband, he’d understand, he’d help her. She was the princess, and it was her burden to bear. But surely he’d choose to listen to her, just to let her get it off her chest?
Of course he would, she scolded herself. He loves me. He’s loved me for years. He’d do anything for me.
Such were the delirious, half-formed thoughts that quickly guided her troubled mind to sleep. Shining saw this with genuine relief and warmth in his heart, and settled down to sleep for a few hours with her. The preparations could do without him for a little while. Cadence mattered more to the nation, and to him, right now.

An emergency meeting with the Roaman Ambassador would, under normal circumstances, have occurred at the first sign of provocation from the Badlands. Cadence couldn’t decide whether or not it was a good thing, or a bad thing, that Domitian was arriving back from a scheduled visit to the army headquarters in the Badlands with an official report from the general in charge there.
“Good morning, Ambassador,” Cadence said cheerfully. “Please sit. Have some breakfast.”
The Ambassador gave a weak smile as the guards closed the doors behind him. He looked a little ill.
“Thank you, Princess,” he said, making an effort to sound as upbeat as Cadence. “Ah, you spoil me with your food here,” he laughed. “Most Roaman food is a great deal blander by comparison.”
“You flatter us,” Shining said, seated opposite Cadence. “I distinctly remember trying something called escargot?”
“Ahh, yes,” the Ambassador said, as though remembering something pleasant. “Quite. Oh, now you’ve put in my head, and I want some.” He laughed.
Cadence forced a laugh too, but had to swallow her next bit of Elderflower quiche a little harder at the memory of asking the Roaman chef exactly what that meal contained.
“Ah!” the Ambassador said suddenly, as though a thought were just striking him. “I have some... well, news to share.”
Cadence and Shining glanced at each other. Cadence felt her stomach contract at the thought of what the Ambassador was going to inform them about the troop movements on the border. Whatever it was, she needed to convince the Ambassador to make it stop. Whatever the reason for the Roamans to be mobilising, Cadence had to persuade the Ambassador that it wasn’t worth it.
“Your daughter has been found.”
Cadence’s stomach stopped writhing. In fact, it seemed to vanish, dropping out of her, leaving an empty space behind it. It was perhaps fortunate that it left her in a temporarily befuddled state, for whether or not the Ambassador saw it, Cadence’s composure had disappeared along with her stomach.
Shining recovered first. “Our ambassador is safe then?” he asked beadily.
Domitian hesitated. “She is alive and well, yes.”
Cadence noticed the distinct lack of detail, and so tried a different tact. “What did she do?” she asked in a slightly exasperated voice. She had to hold back the relief, and so attempted to drink her coffee.
The Ambassador gave what seemed a somewhat self-conscious smile. “Well, we’re not really sure—That is to say, we don’t quite know what happened. The report came in that she was, um...” He bit his lip and gave the room a quick scan, as though hoping the right word would be hanging on one of the walls. “Incarcerated.”
Cadence blinked. “She’s... in prison?”
“No longer, I think,” the Ambassador said quickly, putting on a toothy smile. “By the sounds of it, the entire thing was a complete misunderstanding. I’ve had assurances from the Princeps, and have been asked to offer his most sincere apologies for the situation.”
“But how did this happen?” Shining asked. Cadence could hear his restrain cracking, the demanding tone held back by the thinnest air of civility. “What had she done?”
“As I say, we’re not really sure,” the Ambassador said, licking his lips. “It seems a few days after she went missing, she turned up in one of the regional gaols. The metropolitan guard who were holding her claim to not have recognised her.” He gave Shining and Cadence two swift looks, his jaw tight. “I assure you, the Princeps is well aware of the situation, and I offer my guarantee that this whole unfortunate mistake will be roundly corrected. If it would please you, I can convey orders to have the negligent officers soundly reprimanded on your behalf.”
Cadence listened to the Ambassador with avid attention. As the certainty that her daughter was alive and safe crashed over her, she started to take note of the Ambassador’s tone. Eager to placate, self-effacing, and tactful. It was his job after all, in his capacity as liaison to the Republic, to make sure that nothing happened to foster unhealthy relations between their countries. Was he trying to cover up the movements on the border, or does he not know about them? Or were they not happening?
It seemed that if Cadence wanted to know, she’d either have to ask, or otherwise make the Ambassador bring the subject up himself. She paused for a moment to think of something to bring the subject around. Fortunately, Shining was a little quicker off the mark.
“Actually, Ambassador, I wondered if you could help me with a little question that I had about the request for joint military exercises. I sent the General a message about it around a month ago.”
The Ambassador paused, and then seemed to recollect. “Oh, yes. My brother wishes for me to convey his apologies regarding that, but he’ll be quite unable to arrange any form of cooperative measures for the following few months. I’m not at liberty to disclose much,” he said, perhaps sensing his host’s wish to probe further. “I can inform you however that a regularly scheduled military inspection is to occur soon, and several of the more erudite representatives of society will be making their presence felt. The General will be very busy for the foreseeable future.”
“Perhaps a joint operation would display the legion’s prowess to better effect,” Shining Armour suggested. “We wouldn’t want to push the subject if it’s truly problematic.”
The Ambassador rubbed at his chin, looking faintly interested. “Well I shall certainly make a point of mentioning it. I for one would be quite interested in seeing a joint military exercise. To be honest, we rather thought that Equestria was otherwise occupied as well, given the amount of activity we’ve been seeing on the border. Quite a busy lot down there.” He laughed mildly and sipped his drink.
“It would have been nice to host the exercises together,” Cadence commented, catching onto Shining’s strategy. “But the military’s schedule can’t be interrupted on the whims of those on the political stage.
“My dear princess,” the Ambassador exclaimed, delicately repressing a snort. “I have a general rule against offending my hosts, but that has to be one of the most disingenuous statements I’ve ever heard. At least,” he clarified, “as it applies to my own sad country. The military is deeply rooted in the whims of those on the political stage.” He smiled. “I hope you don’t mind if I use that. Such an eloquent phrase.”
Cadence glanced at Shining. His expression was tight as well. The Ambassador was expertly dodging the subject at hand.

“Do you think that means that there’s something definitely going on?” Cadence asked.
Shining paced slowly around their private chamber, frowning thoughtfully at the carpet as though there was something in the pattern he didn’t quite like.
“That’s the problem,” he said with a sigh. “He was careful to say nothing at all. We can’t take anything for certain from his simply being guarded. He’s a diplomat after all.”
“You don’t think we could simply ask him directly?” Cadence asked, knowing it was a stupid suggestion. She missed the days when intricate layers of secrecy weren’t needed simply to ask somepony a simple question. The Yaks never bothered with subterfuge; in fact the merest trace of subtlety, misdirection, or even double entendres generally sent them into a rage.
Then again, most things send the Yaks into a rage... Cadence thought.
“Speaking of the Yaks,” she said suddenly, thoroughly confusing Shining Armour. “Oh, sorry, I just had a silly thought,” she explained quickly.
“If you mean the Yak delegation fiasco, don’t worry, I took care of it.”
“Oh,” Cadence said, slightly taken aback.
It was perhaps the only thing that had been worse than the Council meeting that day. The Yakyakistan delegation in its customary fashion of loud impatience had forced its way – through several walls – into a confidential meeting between Cadence, Shining, and several military officials about the information regarding Roam’s supposed movements. The results had been immediate and alarming: In adherence to ancient Yak customs, Equestria’s hundreds of moons of guaranteed friendship obligated – apparently – the yaks to participate in any—
“—fights with dirty friend thumpers!” had been the yak representative’s exact words. Words that were followed by a great deal of ignored protestations.
“How exactly did you deal with it?” Cadence inquired, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer.”
“Simple,” Shining said, smiling tightly. “I offered their prince a role as our Yakyakistani attaché.”
“Is that important?” Cadence asked carefully, not as familiar with military terms as perhaps she should have been.
“Only if we actually do go to war.” He rubbed a hoof to his temple. “Which Prince Campbell insists constantly that we do. Or else he destroys the war table.”
“That doesn’t sound solved,” Cadence had to admit.
Shining ceased pacing and kicked a stool. “It’s the best I could do!” he snapped. “Anything else, and the yaks would be marching down through the Crystal Empire! Within a month, we’d have to explain to the Roamans exactly why an army of angry yaks was assaulting their border, and—“ He stopped as he caught Cadence’s eye. Sitting down he muttered an apology.
“You know it’s okay to tell me all about your problems too,” Cadence said smilingly, sitting down next to him. “You’re under pressure as well.”
“Cadence, military operations are nothing to having to put up with that rabble in the Council,” Shining said firmly, giving a one-sided smile. “Compared to you, I’ve got it easy.”
“I don’t know,” Cadence countered, nuzzling his cheek. “I’ve met with yaks on a temporary basis, and they’re typically a nightmare. Especially to upholstery. Having them at every one of your important meetings sounds like a headache.”
Shining Armour made a considering sort of noise. “Prince Campbell’s not as bad as some of them. He’ll only destroy things if he thinks you’re not trying.”
“Oh, well, that is reasonable of him,” Cadence chuckled.
A sharp rap on the door shattered this burgeoning tender moment.
“Enter,” Shining called, and almost before he’d finished speaking the word, the door flew open. In leapt a blue pegasus guard, his golden helmet slightly askew as his wild eyes darted around the room.
“Your highness!” he cried.
“What is the meaning of this!?” Shining boomed. “Stand at attention!”
The pegasus blinked rapidly for a moment, and then snapped to attention. “Sir! Apologies, sir!”
“At ease,” Shining said, frowning. “Now what is the matter with you?”
“My apologies, sir,” the guard said again. “But it’s... well, I don’t really know how to explain—“
“Is something the matter?” Cadence asked in a more gentle tone than her husband. “You seem a little distressed.”
“I-It’s Lance Alot, ma’am,” the guard stammered, as though the name were frightening. “We’ve found him. Just out in the court yard below the guest apartments.”
“You found him?” Shining Armour demanded. “What do you mean? Where has he been? Did he give any explanation?”
“No, sir. He’s unconscious we think—“
“You think?” Shining interrupted.
“Take us to him,” Cadence interjected, seeing that Shining’s patience was not to be tested.
“G-Gladly, ma’am,” the guard said, bowing his head. “But I think I should warn you. It’s not a pleasant sight.”

The guard’s warning was yet another testament to the poverty that besets the English language when it comes to general descriptions. Not a pleasant sight did not do nearly enough justice to the severity of the situation.
The Palace Infirmary was not a large affair, having been designed mainly as an add-on to the guard barracks. Despite this however, it retained the slightly self-conscious grandeur and splendour of the main palace complex, meaning that its interior was sumptuous, but not overtly adorned. What was more, the practicality of the medical profession had impressed itself upon the rooms inside, giving the white walls and few purple and gold furnishings an antiseptic feel. The place smelled faintly of herbs trying to mask the stinging scent of alcohol.
Cadence made a valiant effort to keep her composure as she looked down at what she was seeing, but had to take a moment to make sure that her voice didn’t give away her true feelings of revulsion and horror.
“And you’re sure that you feel alright?”
“I wouldn’t say that I’m alright, ma’am,” Lance Alot said, his eyes still lingering on his legs. “I can’t say that I feel uncomfortable or anything though.”
“Can you feel them at all?” Shining Armour asked, also looking at the legs.
“To be honest, sir,” Lance Alot said, his mouth tensing. “No. No I can’t.”
Cadence tried not to stare, but the sight was just so bizarre. From the tip of his rear hooves, right up to the middle of the thigh, his back legs were inert, glistening in the off-blue lights shining from above. They clinked whenever Lance Alot tried to move them, striking each other like wine glasses.
“It’s crystal, your highness,” said the attending doctor. “Pure crystal, all the way up to these points here,” she said, indicating the trails of glass running up the left leg. They ran like jagged rivers up and beyond the leg. Although they were perfectly still, the edges looked so sharp, so violent in their shape, that they resembled claw marks.
“What caused this?” Cadence asked. “Is his life in danger?”
“Not that we can tell, no,” the doctor said seriously. “We’re preparing to transfer him to the military hospital where we hope to gleam some idea of exactly... what this is.” She looked up at Cadence. “We actually wondered, your highness, if you had any ideas.”
Cadence hesitated. “If I were fatalistically minded, I’d say it looks a little like the plague. But it’s different. The ponies of the Crystal Empire have the ability to assume a crystal coat that more matches this effect, but this—“ she frowned. “I can’t say that I’ve ever seen something like this before.”
“Ah,” the doctor said, evidently disappointed. Then aware of Lance Alot’s eyes upon her, she cleared her throat and put on a confident half-smile. “Well, we’ll have to conduct some tests of course.”
She rattled on a while to Lance Alot about his options. Once she’d finished, with a promise to bring along some reading material for him, Cadence leant in a little closer to him.
“I know that the guards who found you reported that you couldn’t remember anything of what happened to you,” she began.
Lance Alot’s expression tightened a little. “The last thing I remember was coming from the barracks to relieve Steel Toe from the atrium post.”
“That was weeks ago. You never made it there,” Shining Armour stated. “You were reported A.W.L.”
“That’s not going to be on my record, is it?” Lance Alot asked, paling.
Cadence looked at Shining. His expression was stony, his eyes suddenly showing a tiredness usually kept hidden. Perhaps it was the silence, or something in their faces, but Lance Alot seemed to guess something more was wrong than just his record.
“I’ll put someone in the Crystal Empire to research the condition,” Cadence said as she and Shining exited the barracks and headed for the royal gardens. “Something like this happening now, amongst all of these other problems,” she said, barely aware of where she was walking. “It can’t be a coincidence. If the plague is remerging for some reason—“
“Cadence, we can’t get distracted.“
“I’m not saying we do get distracted,” Cadence cut across him. “But we can’t ignore this. I’ve never seen an effect like that ever. The closest thing to it I can think of is—“
“The plague,” Shining agreed, nodding once. “The effects were clearly virulent. It’s unusual that the effect hasn’t spread though. The plague affected ponies minds, and changed them slowly over time. It didn’t spread like this.”
“I’ wondering whether it might be the result of a spell,” Cadence said thoughtfully. “Dark magic forms crystals that spread by shadows, but those weren’t dark crystals. It was more like a unicorn petrifaction spell. What I can’t understand though, is who could have done it, and why?”
“I have the palace guard performing an investigation. They’ll keep things quiet until they get some results. If word got out about a resurgence of the plague, on top of a possible Roaman invasion...”
“I wish Aunt Celestia were here,” Cadence breathed, sitting on a stone bench.
Shining paused, having passed by the bench already, but then doubled back and sat down too.
“Things would probably be simpler,” he agreed, leaning into her a little.
They both looked ahead of them, basking in the relative solitude of the gardens.
Both of them loved the gardens, Cadence perhaps a little more than Shining Armour. Through the war, through the plague, and every other problem besetting the nation, the garden had been the one thing that, in Cadence’s opinion, had retained its splendour and original purpose. Having been commissioned by Celestia as the plague came to its height, and then its long stalemate, the garden had been made to reflect the healing of the nation. A healing that never came.
The garden bore to its eastern edge a collection of the brighter trees and flowers in Equestria; noble pale pink birches from the ranges beneath Cloudesdale, the silvery winter shrubs from Foal Mountain, and kaleidoscope flowers cultivated in the Crystal Empire.
To its west stood the brooding black maples from the frigid lands of Vanhoover, starry twinkle flowers from the Everfree Forest, and purple lilies that grow on the edges of the Hayseed Swamps.
The general purpose was a simple and clear one: Reconciliation. And Cadence had almost no doubt that had Celestia not been taken, it might have been done. Luna might have been shown to be the heroine that she truly was, a compassionate leader making the decision that no pony else was willing to, and the nation might have healed. The eternal twilight of the Nightlands and the living sun of Equestria not be the eternal sign of division that they currently were.
The only painful part of this garden was its centre. The way things had played out seemed an insult to those who had given their very lives to halt a plague that was destroying thousands of lives.
Tall and as grey as marble, stood Discord’s statue. Cadence had been privileged in bygone days to have seen him in statue form twice before, in a time when he richly deserved to be nothing but a two ton hunk of stone. Both of those times, his posture had hardly been what one could have called noble or dignified. It was strange than, to Cadence at least, that now, when he most deserved to roam free, his prison had taken on a form as elegant as the real Discord was not.
Standing straight up, his right arm raised, his lion’s paw frozen in the act of snapping his fingers. Both feet firmly planted, his head was turned slightly down and to the side, an unusually benevolent smile stretched his features. Although looking at the face as a whole, it was still possible to see the roguish mischief in the expression, as though the light of trouble still danced behind his stone eyes. Whenever Cadence looked at him, it made her think that he knew something that she didn’t, but that he would never tell her what.
This was the real Discord. Or what was left of him after he sacrificed his physical form to bring order to chaos. The statue that stood beside him, directly in his frozen gaze, was a representation only, of the other responsible for the miraculous halt of the seemingly unstoppable disease.
Cadence had not known her as well as she’d liked to in life, and deeply regretted it every time she saw her statue. True to the flesh and blood pony, the statue’s long mane hung low over her face, and her kind expression gazed up at her fellow statue with a mixture of pride and gratitude.
“It’s still hard to think that they’re gone,” Shining said.
Realising that he must have noticed where she was staring, Cadence nodded.
“You go on,” she said as he mumbled that he needed to get to the war ministry. “I’m just going to spend a little longer here. I still have half an hour before I have to meet the Chancellor.”
Briefly kissing before departing, Shining trotted industriously off under an arch leading back to the palace’s eastern vestibule, leaving Cadence still seated upon the bench. After a few minutes, Cadence stood, and walked over towards the dual statues.
“I’m sorry things didn’t turn out the way we wanted it to,” she told them, for perhaps the hundredth time. “At least you’re not around to see how horribly I’ve mismanaged everything.”
Touching the tarnished plaque at the base of the pedestal the statues rested upon, she too departed the garden.

- To be Continued