//------------------------------// // Thástáil // Story: Courts of The Magi // by Airstream //------------------------------// “Fire!” the mustachioed stallion barked, and with a roar, the artillery piece disgorged a massive shell, which erupted in a bellow of fire and smoke, screaming away into the chill blue of a midwinter sky, far higher than even most Pegasi could fly without severe effort. Lady Everstar watched through a disc of distorted and focused air, waiting for the shell to impact its target, a hillside nearly fourteen miles away. This particular model of gun was pinpoint accurate up to two miles away, just shy of its minimum range, but this was a test of its average operational range, though it could fling shells far less accurately at a greater distance. The testing grounds outside of Starfall were a far cry from the modest courtyard the first flash powder weapons had been used in, but the proud heritage of Birchwood's enterprising spirit remained, both in the activities performed every day here, and in the name. Birchwood Field was considered to be the top job for both military inventors and aspiring artillery commanders, and it was here that the latest and greatest guns were put through their paces. The hillside erupted into flame nearly thirty seconds later, a good hit, which sent the officers watching through the Lady's projection cheering their successful test. The gun had been in development for some years, and today had been one of the last tests before they were told whether or not they were authorized to put it into mass production. Lady Everstar dismissed the lens as the report from the blast reached them, a low rumble felt in the teeth as well as ground and air. “An excellent demonstration, Lord Ursus,” she said, satisfied. “I believe that this gun would render the old fourteen inch guns obsolete. Tell me, how many of these could you produce in the span of, say, six months?” Lord Ursus, mustache twitching in thought, fiddled with the button of his uniform jacket. An old campaigner through and through, he came from a long line of artillery officers, but unlike most family soldiers, he possessed a keen eye for innovation, and was more than willing to buck tradition if it meant a better result. This, combined with his wife's family's ownership of foundries and weapons plants, had meant he was at the forefront of artillery development, and had been for some decades. “Let's see...” he mumbled as he racked numbers in his head, “We'd need to retool the factories here and in Trottingham, and if we took on extra help...at our current means of production, we'd need one month to retool, and after that, working to capacity, approximately two hundred pieces per month. A thousand, perhaps a bit more?” “And the price?” Lady Everstar inquired. This was something Lord Ursus was more comfortable with. “Price comes out to a bit below eight thousand crowns per piece,” he said, “Shells produced separately.” Lady Everstar nodded quietly, apparently lost in thought. Finally, she came to a conclusion, beckoning to a nearby unicorn with an eye patch. “Captain Roughshod,” she said imperiously, and the unicorn approached, producing a pad of paper and a pen from within one of his uniform pockets. “Take this down. Ursus production is to be augmented through the use of state-owned production lines. Any and all expenses to refit these facilities to produce artillery guns are to be billed to the treasury, as well as expenses to maintain triple shifts, both at these factories and the factories owned by the Ursus family.” Roughshod's eye widened as he scribbled down the orders, and Lord Ursus began to tremble, overcome, as she continued to speak. “At the end of the six month period, beginning today, the Army of the Evening Kingdom will expect receipt of no less than three thousand artillery pieces. Please subcontract with the North Quadrant Powder Works to produce sixteen-inch shells to supplement those you've already produced.” “My Lady!” Ursus exclaimed, shocked. “Three thousand guns? That's an extreme number! Far be it from me to tell you of the Kingdom's military needs, but surely the number is excessive? The Army itself won't have an artillery corps large enough to man them all, even if a draft were to be instated!” Lady Everstar smiled. “Captain Roughshod?” she asked politely. Roughshod cleared his throat. “The announcement has yet to be made,” he said, “But the armed forces of the Kingdom are undergoing restructuring. The Rangers, Border Guard, Royal Guard, and Evening Knights are being reorganized under the banner of the regular Army. In addition to this, new tactics are being pushed. We're attempting to mold infantry, artillery, and engineering groups into a single cohesive force, able to support one another. This calls for an increase in artillery support as it is.” Ursus's mustache bristled further. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “And I'm assuming the same is happening with the Navy?” Roughshod nodded. “The Navy, Air Corps, and Airship Fleets are being merged,” he said. “The Mage Corps is going to remain an extra-military organization, but they'll be appointing liaisons to the Army and Navy and work more closely with them in the future.” “Lady Everstar, you're going to make a lot of generals unhappy,” Lord Ursus replied. The Lady smiled. “I suppose I will,” she said, “But it's high time this Kingdom's military modernized. So many organizations was inefficient. There will be grumbling, but it'll settle out soon. Will you be able to meet the order in six months?” Lord Ursus bowed low to the ground. “With the Kingdom's coffers and factories behind us, and running triple shifts,” he replied, “House Ursus and the Riverside Casting Company will be able to meet and exceed the order with time to spare.” He held a hoof to his forehead. “My goodness,” he said, “I feel as if I might faint. This is a windfall for our company and our House, milady. I shall need to write home at once and tell my wife the good news, as well as send the orders out to those factories that haven't yet finished their retooling.” Lady Everstar nodded her head graciously. “Then go,” she said, “And again, congratulations. That gun is a wonderful piece of machinery. You and your engineers do your legacy proud.” Lord Ursus bowed once more and scurried away, shouting orders to his subordinates and delegating messengers to run letters and operators to the telegraph office located nearby. The spectators, who had been lingering by to hear news of their contract either being accepted or denied, erupted into activity as the news was passed along. “My Lady,” Captain Roughshod said, glancing at his notepad, “These orders you're making are going to deplete the treasury at a rapid rate, unless you start opening up trade between the Kingdom and the Empire, or you raise taxes. We're already going to run a steep deficit this year, and that's just with orders for things like bolt-action rifles and new artillery pieces. We still need to visit the shipyards next week about the new superheavy cruisers, and the chemical plants the week after that. I...I don't want to sounds insubordinate, Lady Everstar, but are you sure you know how to cover the expense?” Lady Everstar nodded at him, the black and pink of her bangs waving in a slight breeze as she did so. “No need to worry,” she said calmly. “I'll be talking to the Treasury in a few days, and...” she trailed off as a familiar messenger skidded to a halt near the edge of the viewing platform, shoving her identification at the guards posted nearby, and vaulting the steps three at a time, wings fluttering nervously as she leapt over the crowd, an envelope clutched in her mouth. “Turquoise?” Lady Everstar asked, bewildered. “Are you alright? Is something the matter?” Turquoise spit out the envelope, bowing low. “My Lady,” she said breathlessly, “I've just had word from Dawndale. There's been...you see...your daughter, she...” Lady Everstar inhaled sharply. “Turquoise,” she said sharply, “What has happened to Serale?” Turquoise swallowed nervously. “There was a duel between a knight of your Court and the Captain of the Dawn Guard,” she said quietly. “Captain Brightsteel?” Roughshod asked. “What does that have to do with...” “Lady Serale attempted to aid the knight, Sir Hedera, with the help of her fellow apprentice and her magic,” Turquoise said, talking over the captain, “She appears to have miscast the spell, and, well...Princess Cadance said they all vanished. She thinks they might have ended up at the Horn of the World.” Captain Roughshod's eye widened and his horn flashed, taking Turquoise with him as he interposed a swift barrier between the Lady and the crowd. “Back!” he called loudly. “Take cover!” It was fortunate that most of the present company were experienced artillery officers and engineers, and at the sound of that last order, most of them dove for the ground instinctively, cradling their heads in their hooves. This saved them from more severe injuries. There was a sudden bang, the impression of gray light and shadowy flame, and a rush of heat and pressure, and suddenly, the Lady was gone, having taken half the platform with her. Splinters bounced off of the Captain's shield, as it was meant to do. He'd held no hope of containing the Lady's magic directly. Captain Roughshod stood up shakily from his position crouched protectively over Turquoise, who blushed slightly as she murmured her thanks. Nearly every eye was drawn towards the artillery field, where a bright star of purplish-gray light could be seen. There was a licking at the air, a sudden flare, and with a rush, a great fount of flame, twice as high as any artillery shell ever fired at that field, climbed towards the sky. It was followed soon after by a dozen more just like it, as Lady Everstar tore apart nearly a full square mile of artillery ground, her magic vented into trees, boulders, and the ground. Ponies stood awestruck as their Lady's rare display of Breaking magic, unleashed and terrible to behold, ripped apart the very earth. And, as it appeared to be brought back under control, Lady Everstar vanished, leaving only the lingering smoke of what might have been a fearsome barrage from the guns, and the echoing sound of thunder and the roars of a dragon. It was a testament to Lady Twilight's ability that she was able to reach those strange rooms that floated outside of the world at all, given her current distressed state, but even she was unable to be any sort of accurate at a time like this. Her heart pounded in her throat, her knees shook and wobbled, and the sounds around her were curiously diminished. Blink. A garden of stone, birds of granite perched on branches that swayed in a nonexistent wind, gray leaves on gray bark on gray trees, gray grass at her hooves and a gray river reflecting the light of a gray sun in a gray sky, all silent and heavy, though they moved as if they were still real, living things. Blink. A great vault, battered and worn, with a door of heavy metal lying to one side, torn too late from its hinges by a unicorn nearly four hundred years ago, to get to a prize far greater than mere gold and silver, which had still, despite her best efforts, slipped from her hooves and away from her for the rest of her life. Blink. A throne, sundered in two, one side in purest white and the other in darkest black, atop a dais illuminated by shattered stained glass windows lit by no sun, and surrounded by ponies long-dead, turned to stone in a war long since over and done, crests of Celestia and Nightmare Moon upon their breasts still visible even all these years later. Twilight let out a long, shuddering sigh. She had arrived. Wasting no time, she divested herself of her garments, leaving her winter cloak and woolen dress upon the floor, resting her crown atop the small pile of clothes haphazardly heaped upon the stone and letting the stone in her chest shine brightly as she stepped past the thrones, to a room she'd hardly known existed the first time she'd entered this room. She looked back over one shoulder, almost expecting to see a familiar unicorn with a mane of fiery red and a coat of ivory grinning at her from the doorway, before she stepped into the small room, shutting the hidden door behind her. The original scrying glass was long since shattered, linked as it was to Celestia in the time of the Rebellion, but after, when she had re-discovered these places, she had replaced it with another glass, this one stranger and more magical than a common scrying mirror. It existed in a smallish gold frame, about the size of a doorway, and gleamed an unusually shiny silver, bright enough that reflections were not visible in it, save only a silhouette of whomever was standing in front of it, and even then only the pony closest to it. The stone in Twilight's chest flickered brightly, now resembling the Flame for which it was sometimes named, and the mirror shone bright in response, inviting her in. She stepped through the mirror. She had been here perhaps a dozen times in her rule as the Lady, but the interior of her old library was familiar to her as ever. A fire still burned cheerily in the fireplace, and a mug of her favorite tea still steamed on a nearby table, inviting her to take a drink. The books still lined the wall, and the wood, worn with age, still felt right beneath her hooves. She ran a hoof along one of the bookshelves, almost convincing herself that any moment now, she'd hear the front door open, and a cheerful voice greet her as Twilight Sparkle. Maybe Roseluck, looking for the newest issue of Better Gardens Monthly, or one of the school-fillies looking for a children's book on history, or Rarity stopping by for a fashion magazine and a bit of friendly gossip… She broke off as the fire crackled and popped, and watched as a mare burst forth from the flame, white of coat and auburn-maned, warm blue eyes watching her kindly above pleasantly tired bags. She fluttered her wings as she sat down, levitating a cup towards her mouth as Twilight sat as well. “Good morning, Twilight,” Mother said kindly. “Is everything alright? Last time you were here was when Serale was born. Not another child, I hope?” Twilight sipped at her own mug of tea. “She's actually the reason I'm here.” “Oh?” “Serale's gone missing,” Twilight said. “Cadance was looking after her, and she disappeared while casting a spell that I'm sure involves ley lines in some capacity.” Mother's nostrils flared. She didn't care much for Cadance, upstart claimant to goddess-hood as she was. “I see,” she said. “And you trust her word?” “Mother,” Twilight said carefully, trying not to offend, “Have you…did you send Serale to the Horn of the World?” The alicorn sat back in her seat, sipping at her tea meditatively. “Now, that's a tricky question,” she said. “If you're asking if I, personally, sent her to the Horn, then the answer is no.” Twilight set her mug down, gripping at the arm of her chair. “Please, Mother. If you did anything, all I want to know is if she's safe.” Mother chuckled good-naturedly. “My dear, Serale's not been safe since the day she was born. Nothing's been safe since the Shadow got free all those years ago. Now, what I was going to say was that I could not act directly on Serale. You know this. I both refuse to get involved with the worlds I have created, and I could not get involved without seriously damaging them. But Serale's been making some interesting choices. So has her friend.” “Serale's learned to begin speaking the language of the ley,” Mother continued. “And, like any child that's spoken her first word, she's going to begin learning more soon, and very rapidly. Since the ley taught her one word, it's bound to begin teaching her more. I suspect that's why she went north.” “So she's at the Horn?” Twilight asked. Mother nodded. “And while she isn't exactly safe, she is guarded well, and will have ample opportunity to earn her safety. You know the north of your world, Twilight Sparkle. It's a harsh place, but a determined sort can live there if they try. And while your accidental slip earlier quite destroyed the paper your spy was going to give you, I know the rest of its contents. The Sunborn, as you call it, has begun his journey north. He will arrive in due course, and, in time, you should see your daughter again.” “That's not exactly reassuring.” “It's the best I can give.” Twilight drained her mug of tea. “I could go get her,” she said. “You certainly could not,” Mother replied. “Twilight, dear, I know you want to keep your daughter safe, but this is something that needs to happen. Not to mention, the magic near the horn is so strange that you'd like as not end up inside of the mountain itself, and then where would you be?” “Inside of a mountain, apparently,” Twilight said, her tone and face both carefully expressionless. Mother rolled her eyes. “While I do find your sarcasm one of your more redeeming features, my dear, I sometimes find myself thinking you could do with a softer tongue. What I meant was that Serale's finally coming into her own as a mage, and that means danger. Perhaps not as much danger this early on, but can you honestly tell me you weren't getting into trouble at her age?” “I seem to recall I was cleaning up one of your messes when I was sixteen,” Twilight said, sipping at her tea, which had conveniently refilled itself. “But I take your point. Will you at least send her back when you or whomever it was is finished teaching my daughter her magical alphabet?” Mother set down her own cup with a clack. “Careful, child. Teasing I will permit, but you overstep your bounds.” Twilight shrugged. “So kill me. Send me on my way.” “And leave your daughter to fend for herself? She'd perish with the rest of Equestria, and the entirety of Creation not long thereafter.” Twilight smirked and said nothing, but set down her cup, meeting Mother's gaze, amethyst clashing with gas-flame. “You've put your plan into motion,” Mother said. It was not a question. Twilight shrugged noncommittally. “I understand you have universes to run,” she said, “But you really should pay more attention to the one I'm in.” “Ego,” Mother murmured, but said nothing more. Twilight sighed, standing up. “Yes, Mother. I've put the plan into motion. It's been four hundred years in the making, but it's finally begun. No loose ends, no slip-ups. Everything tied off nice and neat, practically with a ribbon on. If you care to watch your only undecided creation for a while, then I promise at least to validate the trust you put in me centuries ago.” She trotted to the door, resting one hoof on it. “I cannot tell you how to do your job, Mother,” she said, “And I can't begin to guess how you see the world. But sometimes I wonder if you're really the best Creation can do. I think the only mother that treats her children worse than you is myself. Tell Spike and Tara and the others that I'll be along shortly.” “Twilight...” Mother called, but it came too late. The door opened, the unicorn passed through, and then there was only one unicorn, standing alone in a library that was not her own. The telegraph office in the Regia, a smallish affair manned by only a few communications officers, was lit with a bright flash of light. Blinking, the ponies inside kneeled. Lady Everstar adjusted her crown and spoke quietly, her voice boiling with fury. “Lady Hedera is to come before us after a span of three hours has passed, with her children in tow. We wish to converse with her about certain events in recent days. Make it clear that failure to do so would result in our...displeasure.” The lead communications officer bowed lower, ice water running in her veins. Lady Everstar only ever used the royal “We” in official proclamations, and even then only for the gravest of offenses. “You there, ensign,” the Lady said imperiously, pointing at the most junior officer, “Pass word to the Guard that our chambers are not to be disturbed for a space of two hours. We wish to speak to our Court Mage. Should anypony, for any reason short of a declaration of war, open our doors before such a time has passed, I will have them flogged. Go now.” As the ensign turned to leave, the Lady vanished once more in a brilliant flash, leaving only the smell of ozone and a deep and lingering fear behind her.