//------------------------------//
// XIV. Nightfall 
// Story: Chrysalis Visits The Hague 
// by Dan The Man 
//------------------------------//


XIV
Nightfall






Royal Palace, City of Canterlot, Equestria
19. November, 2015
7:10 am ICT

A hammering noise echoed through the gigantic reception hall like bells in a cathedral. Bulky pegasus constructors loudly coordinated tall, floating banners as they were raised to the ceiling.

Edith looked up. Her neck snapped a little, but it didn't hurt as much as the day before. She saw baskets with wild summery flowers hanging high above her, illuminated by the two story-high lancet windows and glassen chandeliers that held dozens of shining candles each.
This room was perhaps the lushest and tallest one she had ever seen in her life. Unbelievable that horses would ever be able to create such magnificent constructions. If this building really was as old as it looked, then the Equines must have been building these monstrous citadels while humanity was still struggling with perfecting their peat huts.

Sliding upright on her uncomfortable, low-built chair, her wet boots squeaking on the marble floor, she contemplated plants and rows of chairs alongside the walls and columns. Her eyes came to a halt at an elegant grand staircase at the end of the hall that wriggled itself upward, like a double helix, by the sides of an enormous central stained window.
Further left, there was an open set of double doors leading into an adjacent room at the feet of the stairs, in which – from the corner of her eyes – she could see a busy-looking bespectacled pegasus sorting papers on the table beneath her, chewing on a fountain pen and looking quite lethargic.

From somewhere, a voice was echoing down at her, aggravated, urgent, frank. Inside her limp, addled head, her eyes searched for any indication. It felt as if they and ears had been smeared with vaseline. 
And then, of course, there was the nausea, the terrible nausea, cooking up inside her head and dripping down to her stomach.

Finally, when she looked up, she saw a white-clad creature with a bright red beard drifting back into focus.

“Edith?” he said. “Edith! Are you listening?”

“No.” she just slurred.

The Canadian wiped some molten snow out of his facial hair with his ushanka.
“Focus. I know you're sick and tired, but so am I. I'm not gonna repeat myself.”
He then repeated himself, somewhat strenuously, "I need to be downstairs in the palace archives at eight. I need to get going. Do you have any of your belongings left in the University Hospital labs?”

Edith thought for a moment.
"Maybe."
She was positive her entire belongings were still lying in a locker somewhere in the royal university complex.

Pierre just nodded slightly toward the double doors and the desk behind them.
“Edith... the secretary's is open until twelve o'clock today. Can you go and apply for the retrieval of your kit yourself?”

To that, she didn't really know what to say.

First, she’d tried to do some pony a favour and assist in his enquiry. The next moment, she had been roused out of her hospital bed with half her teeth missing and pumped on magic. Then she’d been rewarded for her troubles with a P-49 from the UN. 
And now the guy tasked with deporting her wouldn't even bother to get her stuff back because he had to run?

Sure. Why not.

She could have unleashed a firestorm of abuse at the man then and there, in the atrium of the Equestrian seat of power.
Yet she wanted to keep enough dignity to not leave the Equestrian isle in handcuffs.

“Chan't... chan't I just gho down to the labs and chlear them up myself? I still have the kheys on me...” she tried to reason.

Sighing, he quickly shook his head.
“No can do. One thing is, I'm not going to let you fall down three flights of stairs and knock the rest of your life out of you on impact. You need to rest.”
Then he sniffed. “Secondly, the Castle Guard has given the hospital labs a high-end clearance because of all the arriving Everfree cadavers. UN personnel are authorised automatically...”
He paused. “But... Since we both know yours isn't going to get renewed...”

Bitterly but weakly, she stared into space.

“You... you'll have to give me those keys now, by the way.”

The Bosnian gritted the teeth behind her lips.
She rid herself from her gloves and her heavy jacket with near-agonising slowness.
Only once she held both slung around her arm, she sat back, erected her head, and took out her bundle.
She pulled it out of her pockets so impulsively that she almost handed him her pocket lining alongside it.

“Thanks.”

“Pierre. Please gho. Takhe your appointment. And shove it up your ginger ass.”

He chewed her words over for a short moment.
“Much obliged.”

Then he rushed off, to the tune of the construction ponies' hammers further down the aisle.

The forensic's breath grew heavy. A thick knot was forming somewhere in her guts. The shame and the anger - at herself, and at those around her - had to settle somewhere.

Once again, the columns and ceilings above her head started to twist and turn erratically.
Before her body would get the chance to betray her and give her a crippling fit of impending palsy, she allowed her breathing to become a bit lighter again and the fog around her mind to clear. She tried to rid herself of the metaphorical, yet exceedingly tangible weight on her shoulders through deep, controlled breaths.
At some point, her eyes fluttered shut.

“Hey... Are you okay?” she heard a bemused voice inquire.

Her eyes shot open again.

Across from her, stowed away behind one of the adjacent pillars, there sat a smiling young woman.
Edith didn't even ask herself how she could have overlooked her.

She was dressed elegantly, in a beige business suit and her blond hair was braided around the back of her head. Her eyes were smeared with generous amounts of mascara and her lipstick was noticeably glaring.
She surely made a fine foil to the tousled Bosnian with her unctuous hair, her sweaty jumper and slush-caked ski-bottoms and boots, limply resting on the other side of the hall.

“You were looking like you'd have a collapse a second ago.” the lady explained herself, not once losing her slightly amused expression. “Should I be calling someone?”

Thankfully, Edith had the gift to make all that pain, all that discomfort invisible to everyone else. Suckering up and sitting upright as much as she could on her velvet chair, she shook her head.

The lady's high heels clacked against marble floor as she crossed her legs, intrigued.
“Mountaineering?”

Edith raised her eyebrows quizzically.

The lady pointed at the right side of her own neck, just behind the ear, as if to point out Edith's bandages.
“Didn't go so well, huh?”
Her English was excellent, but a foreign twang was noticeable.

Edith let out a raspy sigh and shook her head.

“Well, it was one guess. The countryside's beautiful around here... but it's not holiday resort material. If you know what I mean. One doesn't go dune-buggying in Afghanistan.”

“...Hm.” the forensic just added tiredly.

“Then again, what do I know?” she mused on. “I'm told the Frozen North has some great hiking trails. I'm going there myself tomorrow. Won't be climbing, though.”

Edith slipped out of her comfortable position some more.
“Isn't it... a war zone?” she asked.

“It is?” the woman made sure cheerily. “Well, I'll only be sight-seeing. Should prove interesting.”

Edith thought back to the mountains of forms she was forced to fill out when she first applied for the Equestrian commission.
She had to be run through everything, background checks and references and assignment allocations...

And that begged the question: How the hell did that young girl ever make it anywhere near Equestria?

“Are you a tourist?”

The lady laid a hand to her heart and smirked.
“Should be. This is like paid vacation. But believe it or not, I'm actually here for entirely work-related reasons. You too, I hope?”

Wordlessly, Edith lifted the jacket in her arms, showing the working lady the grey logo on its back.

“ICMP? Oh... the International... Council of...”

“Chommission on Missingh Persons.” she corrected her.

“Ah.” the woman nodded. “The war graves people, of course. Excuse my ignorance.”
Uncrossing her legs again, she leaned forward. “Listen... I don't mean to pry. But did that UN guy just try to fire you or something?”

Edith eyed her with thinly-veiled contempt.
“I don't thinkh that's any of your business.”

“No, it's not. Obviously.” she agreed, begrudgingly, before lighting up again. “But if you ask me, I'd tell you to go and kick his ginger ass, you know?”

The forensic didn't really know what to make of that statement. Or of that conversation in general.
The other woman wasn't wrong, but still...

“I had to deal with him already. Awful.” the lady related, “Typical bureaucrat. Where I come from, we'd call him a Dolboeb. If there's one thing those people don't understand, then it's when to hand out pink slips and when to shut their mouths.”

“Hm...” Edith just hummed, a little embarrassed.

“So are you a doctor then?”

“Forensich pathologist.”

“But you're a freelance.”

“...Uh, no. I have a chomission... or had one.”

“You should really consider a change in jobs. Work for someone who doesn't think your efforts are expendable.”

The forensic raised her chin, her expression knowing.
“Likhe you?”

The lady laughed. “I'm delighted that you think so, but no. I mean, sure, we can always use someone who dig up things for a living... But we prefer those who know how to operate earthmovers."

She glanced over to the double doors, where the curly-haired, bespectacled pegasus secretary who had apparently stopped filing papers and was peeping her head out into the hall.
Adjusting her glasses, the pony addressed the lady.
“Alright, Missus. You can step inside in five minutes or so. Her Majesty is on a very tight schedule, so you'd be better off making it quick. Alright?”

She nodded in the pony's direction, and then gave the forensic across from her a chuckle.
“That's Equestria for you. When you go to see royalty, would you have really thought that your first hurdle is a secretary behind a desk?”

Edith's eyebrows swung upward.
“Royalty? You are seeingh royalty?”

“Yes, yes.” the lady grinned and wriggled her head - comically, yet definitely a little too casually. “But only one of them. The nice one, the… not-awkward one.” 

“Chan I askh why?”

“Market probing. It's all a little... hush hush, you understand.”

“Hm.”

It was at that moment that the lady seemingly had a thought that amused her even more.
“You know what?”

“No.”

“I think... you should just go... and work for Equestria. They'd probably thank you for it.”

Edith was mystified.
“Exhuse me?”

She shrugged innocently.
“I don't know. The thought occurred. Looking at you.”

“I don't understand what this is supposed to be.”

“The Equestrians are probably the most benign employers this side of the Salvation Army, and from what I've gathered, they're in bad need of committed foreign professionals right now.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Not peacekeepers. This isn't Syria. Yet.”

“Listen...” Edith breathed, “I am neither jobless nor a peacekheeper. I am a full-time employee of the ICMP. The only reason I'm even allowed here is because of my mandate to the UN.”

“Lastochka, you don't owe the UN anything. They're shoving you around the place like a queen on a chessboard, and you don't even notice. You offered your helping hand… and they forgot what to do with it. Why should you care if Equestria does take you in?”

Edith cut her off with a swipe of her fingers. Wasn't that loudmouthed young girl getting a little bit ahead of herself- and anyone – here?
“What I'm doingh here is advising the lochal hospital staff on forensich investighation techniqhues.”

“Then what exactly did you do that got you fired?”

She breathed.
“I wasn't fired. I was... pulled off.”

The other woman had already begun packing her belongings back into her purse and make ready to leave.
“If you want my advice, then don't take all those IGO office jockeys too seriously. They're here for decoration. If you really want them to keep you, then find someone with actual influence who can spell out just how indispensable your efforts here are.”
She rose, dusting her trousers off one final time. “And if nobody in the UN is willing to stand up for you... who else can you turn to but the ponies?”

Nervously, the Bosnian began to massage her kneecaps.
“Yeah. I'll thinkh about it.”

“Don't take too long. Equestria really looks like a place worth staying.”
She gave a warm smile, waved shortly and wished – in impeccable Serbian, “Srećno!”

Then she was gone, her shoes speedily and noisily click-clacking over toward the grand staircase.

'She has no idea, of course...' Edith thought to herself as she looked on, 'But is she wrong?'

Edith could call someone to her defence, to contest the higher-ups' rash decision.
The freshly anointed Captain Fighting Fit, perhaps? Or maybe even Junebug's mother, at least if she could muster enough sanity to remember the human in the first place?

The search for Junebug was continuing. It had to. Why, Edith couldn't really say.
There was something about the assignment that triggered something inside her. Whether it was the obligation she felt she now had to the ponies of the Everfree with her offer to help, or the sheer curiosity to discover the secrets and mysteries behind the disappearances...

At this point, she was ready do a lot of things to achieve a feeling – any feeling – of closure.

Her feet sprang up so suddenly that her head almost didn't follow.





The pony secretary yawned, spreading her wings in all directions and sliding back in her chair.
As she opened her eyes, peering back over the counter of her marble desk to read off the hour on the big grandfather clock on the other end of the room, she saw a dishevelled-looking human block her view, staring down at her, limbs crossed, and her winter coat resting on her tabletop.
The pegasus' bored eyes crept up to meet the human's with agonising slowness.
“Yes? What do you want?” she inquired unenthusiastically.

“So... is this the Porter's office?” she made sure.

“No. This is the janitor's. If you've got a broken tap, you need to take it to management.”

Confused, the human pouted and looked around the glamorous surroundings.

“This is the Office of the Royal Castellan, sweetheart.” the mare explained grouchily, “You're at the foot of the Royal Keep. What do you think this was supposed to be?”

Edith's face quickly turned sour. Pulling the bandages a bit away from her face, she added,
“Achtually, that's why I'm here. I'm not sure how this workhs... I need to makhe an appointment.”

“Do you now?”
The receptionist pulled down her glasses, and slid a hoof over the human's discarded jacket with a judging glare. “Well, first of all, you won't be doing anything looking like this.This is Their Majesties' residence you're about to enter, not a public gym.”

“Fine. I chan change.” Edith enunciated, annoyed. “Now, chan I makhe an appointment, or chan I not makhe an appointment?”

“Secondly...” she continued, holding up a hoof, “Any and all petition sessions have been suspended due to the ongoing changeling threat. Check again next Monday between the hours of seven am and one pm.”
Judging by how fluently she rattled it off her tongue, it was evident that she was used to saying it.

“Well, I'm not here for a petition.” Edith explained incredulously. “I want a private talkh with a member of the Eqhuestrian Armed Forces who's gharisonned in Chanterlot Castle. As soon as possible, please. It's urgent.”

“It's always something urgent with you humans, isn't it?”
Then she sighed and slid a stack of paper over to her. “Okay, I'll need your name and profession.”

“Šarić, Edith. I am with the ICMP.”

The pegasus rolled her eyes and began to file through the pages.
“Sweet Celestia, what kind of name is 'Šarić' supposed to be, anyway? How do you spell that?”

“Ш. A. P...” Edith counted off dryly.

“Spare me.” the secretary breathed. “Title?”

“...Admiral.”
The delivery was perfectly deadpan.

The pony rose in surprise.
“Really?”

“No. That was a joke.”

The pegasus skimmed a couple of pages, a little bit winded-looking. “Alright, um... I see you're part of the human mission. Your name's here... but…”
Then looked back up with a suspicious stare, “It's been put in brackets. Is there anything I should know?”

She bit her lip before answering.
“Do the brackhets mean anythingh?”

“Oh, only that you've been... earmarked.” she slurred, all the while eyeing the human expectantly. “Well?”

Feigning complete ignorance, the forensic just shook her head determinedly and folded her arms.
“None whatsoever.”

“Shame. I would have really liked to know.”
Then with a swift motion of her hoof, the secretary struck a bell fastened to the top of her desk twice, giving a clarion ring that echoed through the room and the hall outside.

Soon after, Edith could discern the clops of armoured hooves marching down the grand staircase in impeccably timed unison.
Two Royal Guards in silver armour and golden badges under their chins descended and stopped in the doorway to the Castellan's office.

The pegasus secretary checked the time on the longcase clock and announced, with a breath of relief. “Very well… ‘Admiral’. Off you go.”

Confused, Edith looked to and fro between the desk in front of her and the guards behind her.
“Sorry?”

“Just go. Don't ask any questions. Just follow the Serjeants. They'll know where to put you.”





“So...” the white mare with the black rimmed glasses began, nervously rocking about on her chair.
“What do you think… Your Majesty?”

“What I think? Well...”

Sunken in thought, the deep-blue alicorn held her enormous mane between her silver-worked hooves and stroked it. All the stars and constellations of the night sky seemed to dance around them as she straightened out the dishevelled hair.

The metallic plate and chain that awkwardly lay in front of her on the breakfast table was made out of the finest, most shimmering precious metals.
The remotely moon-shaped plate was made out of brightly polished brass, and dotted minuscule engravings of plants, trees, and ocean waves all over it, honed with thin lines of genuine silver. The thick edges were rarefied with patterns of embedded fire-red bronze and encrusted with a motley gem shards of all shapes and sizes.
The chain that connected its two points itself was more akin to a curtain rope, with several chains interwoven with elaborately braided strings of blue silk, white angora and rose plisse.

“I like it.” the alicorn finally declared. “An impressive array of materials. It certainly speaks of exemplary workponyship.”
Levitating a cup of tea toward her mouth, she drank and pondered on. “But alas… it’s not quite what We are looking for.”

The earth pony laid a hand on her heart and sighed in relief.
“Oh, good. I was thinking myself that it was a little bit… you know...“

“Too bland?”

“Too martial, Majesty.”

The alicorn looked at the mare with much surprise.
“Too martial? Heavens, Raven, why?”

Embarrassed, the aide combed her own mane, dark-brown and tied into a pony-tail, and explained herself very carefully.
“You know… If I were a human leader, and I were to accept a gift from the Princess of Equestria, I would perhaps expect something… a little different. A set of fine porcelain perhaps. Not… whatever this is supposed to be.”

The alicorn peered over to her assistant with the look of a disappointed teacher.
“This, my dear Raven, is a ceremonial gorget. In this country's glory days, it was part of only the most revered and respected Guard Officers’ armours, casting protection and announce their authority to the rank-and-file.”

Uneasily, she only nodded.
“Yeah. The thing is, I don't think that gifting a piece of armour is necessarily the most fitting with our message of peace. Plus, Her Majesty your Sister might have already taken her pick for a state present...”

“Oh, what?”

“A grand velvet flag... embellished with a... beautiful red heart?”

“A heart... How original.” the Princess whispered back unenthusiastically.

Displeased and bored, she let her stare wander around her relatively small, but cosy private chambers.
In one corner stood a elegant four-poster bed, in another a sofa by a chess table. Not far away stood her working desk, piled up gracelessly with books and files. Moody oil paintings covered the silky walls around them. Two arched windows looked out into the Canterlot panorama on the relatively sunny south side; townhouses, towers, terraces and gardens glistened below mountain tops and above white-strewn valleys.

Eventually she came across the chamber doors, where she found a uniformed guard, standing at attention – a muscular, pearly-white pony, innocent brown eyes, short buzz-cut mane, and his fluffy wings in bandages. His demeanour was patient and loyal, but his eyes were distraught and on edge.

“Captain. What do you think?” she asked him.

The pegasus jolted and clicked his hooves.
“I... I... I agree, your Highness. It's... very pretty.”

The Princess only sighed.
“Fine. The pretty flag it is. I suppose our esteemed human guest can still get some practical use out of it. Like hoisting it on his outhouse.”

Contently, Raven climbed off her chair and made a short bow.
“I'm glad Your Majesty agrees. And I'm sure you'll appreciate that the flag has already been arranged for the occasion.”

“Yes. Sometimes, We do wonder why my sister seeks out Our opinion at all.”
Under the cover of the tablecloth, the Princess slipped out of her silver horseshoes and drowsily applied her now barren hooves to her eye sockets. “Raven, you are dismissed. We wish to lie down for the day.”

“Yes, Majesty. Sweet dreams, Majesty.”

The aide graciously bowed out of the Night Princess' room.

Uneasily, the guardspony was about to follow suit, but a commanding hoof from the princess stopped him in his tracks.

“Captain Fighting Fit? You stay. Close the doors.”

With a short nod, he obeyed.

As soon as the clip-clops of the aide’s hooves disappeared down the corridor outside, the Princess rose from her seat with a disgruntled mien and sent the lordly gorget bouncing onto her large bed.

“A heart. It's always hearts!”

Lifting her now neglected dish of omelette  and portobello mushrooms and her kettle of strawberry tea out of the way with her horn, she brought forth a rolled-up map and a good dozen miniature bannerets from under the table.
The pegasus in the corner of the room watched her spread the map over the tabletop, transforming the princely breakfast table into a makeshift plotting board.

“Now Captain... Fighting Fit.” she began, weighting down her map with her kettle, “It is Captain Fighting Fit, isn't it?”

“It... it is now, M'am.” he confirmed, visibly nervous. “Sorry, the rank takes getting used to.”

“You are with the Everfree Provincial Cavalry?”

“N-no. I used to be. I have been serving in the Royal Household Battalion here in Canterlot, since the... you know.”

The Princess of the Night looked up, giving the pegasus soldier a judging stare. However, it fell apart at the sight of his helpless trembling demeanour.
“Alas, Captain. We can say few more words about your recent promotion than Our sister already had. We can only reiterate that you have earned it. A dozen-fold.”

His chin hardened.
“Thank you, M'am.”

“To organise a rescue party and wade out into the belly of the Everfree Forest. No order, no coercion. Just on your own initiative. It was a dauntless thing to do.”

His ears sagged unexpectedly.
“Your sister... I mean... Princess Celestia... she advised that I shouldn't do it again.”

The Princess rose up, flicking an intrigued eyebrow.
“Did she now?”

The soldier looked down.
“She meant that... it was just too risky. For all we knew, we could have run right into the hooves of a changeling army and... joined the ponies in the cave instead of rescuing them.”

“But that did not do much to curb your willpower. Would you do it again?”

He held his breath, apprehensively.
“I... I will do as my Princesses command, M'am.”

“Now is not the time for false obeisance, Fighting.” she warned. “Come closer.”

The stiff soldier needed several uncomfortable moments to close the gap between the door and his sovereign's desk. 
She invited him to inspect the map. It showed the upper regions of Equestria, west to east, from coast to coast – the inscriptions were ancient and aged, but intensely detailed.

“Captain, you have served in the Battalion Communications staff. You know where most Royal Guard regiments are currently deployed.”

“Yes, of course. They're all lined up north. Aren't they?”

“Show me.” she asked, and had the bannerets float into his hooves.

Dutifully, he moved the pegs, depositing them along a thin ridge that seemed to split the thin Equestrian island in two.

“Crystal Gorge. Quite right. As you know, this is is the geographical border that separates the landmass of the Frozen North from Equestria proper.”

“I didn't know it was geographical. Is this why they're camping there?”

She put a hoof on the map and slowly slid it northward.
“Partly. Everything that's behind this ridge is considered no-mare's land. Too barren, too cold. We know the changeling's realm lies somewhere out there, but it's not above the Crystal Ridge that they can start doing damage.”

“Won't they try and push south again then?”

“They did before. And they will again. Of this, We're certain.”
Her eyes hardened. “But when? How? And with how many?”

The freshly anointed Captain didn't immediately understand the questions as rhetorical.
“We'll... see?”

“Yes, when they're on top of us, we will.”

In silence, she contemplated the tiny, thin row of bannerets on the grimy white paper, and didn't say anything for some time.
It almost drove the pegasus across from her mad.

“Fifty thousand colts.” she finally mumbled, “That's eight in ten Royal Guards, Captain Fighting – are sitting atop a two-hundred league-long ridge in the most forsaken corner of this fair land, collecting dust... and snow. Meanwhile, a force of a hundred thousand starving changelings are biding their time, waiting to pour over this ridge and pound our brave fifty thousand into the ice.”

“We won't let them do that, M'am.”

“If We remember correctly, you wouldn't let them interrupt the wedding of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza either.” she commented caustically.

His ears sagged immediately.
“I wasn't stationed in Canterlot back then...”

“Alas, we fear that's irrelevant.”
Miserably, the alicorn huffed and lowered her crowned head. “The Guard has changed a lot since the olden days – the days of Discord and Sombra and Tirek. In which way, though, I dare not ask.”

“M'am.”

In the fraction of a second, she stomped on the table, spilling frustration and tea all over the map and leftover meal.
“Blazing Tartarus! Canterlot Command knew it was coming. The Changelings didn't even get a jump on them, for crying out loud! How is this Guard supposed to safeguard our nation if they cannot even hold the streets just outside those windows?!”

The bulky pegasus shrunk back a fraction of an inch, but desperation riled him back up.
“I wish I had been here! I wish I could have fought. It wouldn't have made a difference, but at least I could have fought! I wish I would have had the chance...”

Her feral gleam brought him back to repressed silence.
At the Princess' table, only one was allowed to shout.

“...I'm sorry, M'am.”

“Fighting Fit. We may have not made it clear enough earlier, but you have nothing to apologise for.”
Not leaving him out of her sight, she rounded the table and approached the pegasus. “There is a fire in your heart so bright that it eclipses many of the other royal guards altogether.”
She stepped so close to him that the Princess' long dark-blue neck and regalia soon filled his entire vision. “Do you really think any one of your comrades would have done what you did?”

“I...”

“They would have spent their week on leave wasting away in malt shops or betting their pay at the racetrack. Not in a cavern in the single most perilous place south of the Crystal Gorge. It is the sort of assignment that has pushed many Guards to discharge in the past. Or desertion.”

“Should I’ve even been there, though?”

“Were you certain that you would locate the missing filly Junebug? Or anypony, for that matter?”

The Pegasus Captain was visibly pained. Until now, he’d been convinced he would have. Why would he have gone in there, anyway?

Only now did it dawn upon him that, maybe, he didn't. His whole plan of finding Junebug by simply retracing steps she might have made many months ago seemed rather far-fetched. And he wasn't a stallion of far-fetched plans.
Obedient in truth, he shook his head.

“And yet you went.”

“And yet I went.”

Then Princess Luna laid a hoof on his armoured shoulder. Fighting Fit gawked up at her immediately.

“There was a reason why you now hold the rank you do. Even though the goal of the Royal Guard is to guard and defend the Crown... you are not a defender.”

His eyes widened.

“You're an attacker. And this, quite rightly, makes you the best defender of them all.”

“Your Majesty...”

“We need Officers like you. Guards who aren't content with the peace of the moment. Ponies who don't think that closing your eyes will make the evil go away.”
Firmly, she led Fighting back to the map, still drenched in the strawberry tea. “Look upon the North. The lurking, howling North. Now look at your brethren, camping on show, waiting for the inevitable defeat. When will they realise that defence is simply not their strong point?”

“Your Majesty.” he protested and tried to free himself from her grasp, “It's not like the colts have a choice. They're under orders to hold the border, M'am, and they do what they're told.”

“Yes. The orders of my sister.” she interjected, audibly exasperated.

The officer had an unwell feeling about where this conversation was leading them. 
He could sense what was on the Night Princess' lips.

“Celestia... is a peacemaker. A merciful soul. A mare of a great many talents. And I am speaking from personal experience when I tell you: Waging war is not one of them. It never was.”

“Are... we... at war?” the soldier made sure, extremely cautious of his words as they left his mouth.

“You tell me. Show me the changeling queen's plea for peace.”

The Princess' eyes were cold as only one of her deepest winter's nights could be. Inside her beautiful, soft-spoken shell, there slumbered a millennia-old behemoth moulded by conflict and combat.

“So does... your Majesty want to... bypass the orders of your sister?”

The Princess of the Night rose her head humourlessly.
“'Bypass'? That would imply that We don't actually have a say in what Our Royal Guard does. Is that what you're trying to tell Us?”

“N-no, I would never...”

“The word you must be looking for is 'rescind'. Which is what We intend to do. Because We want to grant this Royal Guard a long-overdue victory. We will not sit quietly this time 'round. We shall march forth, and hit the changeling where it hurts.”

One by one, the pins were seized by blue hue of the Princess' magic and began moving themselves to the upper edge of the map.

“Even though we don't actually know where they are?”

“And we won't know anytime soon by contemplating the Frozen North from the outside!”

Years ago, when Fighting Fit enrolled in the Hoofington Military College, he swore an oath of allegiance. To defend Equestria, to enforce harmony, and to serve the Princess in Canterlot - the peacemaker. By the time the second one had returned, he was already serving as the Sheriff of the Everfree.
The notion that he owed loyalty to yet another sovereign – one that ruled the dark night, to boot – still struck him as strange; awkward at best, unsavoury at worst.

So why, why by the sun and the moon, was he finding so much more sense in her words than in the edicts of his true regent?

The princess lowered herself back into her seat, gently pulling the map to the side, and addressed the soldier with a more uninvolved demeanour.
“Feel free to seat yourself at my table.” she offered.

“Thank you, M'am. I'd rather stand.”

“You are tense. We can feel it. Please sit.”

An enchanted chair pulled itself up next to the soldier. He accepted it.

“Now... Your position as Captain will lead you down two possible paths; Our sister, for one, wishes to see you placed in the Canterlot Command, where you will direct supply wagons to reinforce the outposts by the ridge.”

Inside him, something automatically frowned.

“We, on the other hoof, wish to see you placed at the front, from which you will help lead your brethren to a precise and determined strike, overrunning the changeling, ending the threat once and for all.”
She harrumphed. “We figured the penultimate choice belongs to you.”

He held his breath, his mouth flapping open to say something about it, anything...
“I...”

She just smiled. Challengingly.
“Be truthful now, Fighting Fit. If the order reached you, you would be the first to storm into the North.”

“I've actually... had a question.”

“Then ask it.”

“Yes M'am. What about the Everfree?”

“The forest? Oh, it shan't be neglected.”
Her eyes turned to the windows vigilantly. “As you might know, a thousand-odd guardsponies are heading south into the Ponyville Province as We speak. Even Our sister could not deny the necessity of an intricate search of those bewitched woods. Only the sun knows what harm a fully-fledged changeling colony could do from there. Not to mention what they already have done.”

From the corner of her eyes, she watched the the captain breath out some of his tenseness.

“You are worried.”

“A bit. Ponyville's where I'm from. I spent half my life there. I know, it's a bit of a selfish on my end to hope that it might receive... particular attention right now...”

“Is it selfish to worry about those you hold dear?”

“It is for a Guard in the service of Her Majesty.”

“Fighting Fit.” she sighed peacefully. “Look at Us.”

His eyes couldn't muster to meet hers immediately. Just as blue and cold as before, at least the features around them began to radiate mercy and sympathy.

“You and We are not too different. We are also afraid. Just as you worry about your friends and your family, We worry about Our subjects and subordinates. We too cannot help but marinate in Our powerlessness in the face of unspeakable evil that intends to plague them.”
She pressed her lips together. “Sitting in my chambers, drinking my tea and felling judgements about gift flags... Or making state visits to places I never heard of and won't hear of again, to impress creatures that might never become my... Our allies... All these endeavours do not lie in Our hooves...”
She broke eye contact. With her front limbs, the alicorn lifted her tiara from her head, and inspected is melancholically. “These are the true chains of command. If We could lift this crown and swap it for the old battle helm, We would. If we could fly out into the eternal ice and lead Our army into the fray Ourselves, We would. But the call of the realm beckons Us elsewhere.”

The Captain nodded. “And me?”

“We are granting you the chance We won't be given. To fight for what is right. Captain Fighting Fit.”

He weighed his options. And hers. He couldn't help but play Discord's advocate.
“So what about the Elements of Harmony?”

The Princess of the Night sat still in her place. In her inner eye, a slitted cat's eye stared back into her.

“Generosity. Loyalty. Honesty. Kindness. Laughter.”
She sniffed. “How can any of those put a stop to a hundred-thousand-strong swarm of mindless drones in who's very nature it is to steal other's happiness? To deceive and betray all those they meet? To torture and agonise the helpless? To sneer at the weak? Changelings aren't corrupted. They’re a corruption of their own.”

Of course, Fighting Fit found no argument there.

“Even if it may not look it... the Royal Guard still has a role in this time and age. The Elements bring friendship where it can exist. The stallions of the Guard bring harmony where it cannot. This is the way it has always been.”

“Yes, M'am.”

Her eyes soon minded the map again.
“Even so, we mustn't delude ourselves. You need help.”

His ears perked.

“Even at their luckiest, Our army has a marginal chance of success as things stand now. And this is another reason why you were summoned to Captaincy. You have proven yourself adept at forging alliances, however small.”

“With whom?”

Her eyes sparkled.
“The humans, Captain.”

A sudden knock at the door that made both the Princess and the Guard startle up.

After a short nod from her sovereign, the Captain gave a call,
“W-what is it?”

The petty chamber door creaked open, and another pegasus soldier – in purple armour, his wings bony and his eyes of an almost shining yellowish hue – stood at attention.

“What is it, Private?” he inquired strictly.
He had never particularly liked the sinister, humourless grunts from Princess Luna's Night Guard.

The purple soldier seemed to look straight through him as he directly addressed his sovereign, in a deep gravelly voice. “My Princess! A subject who has been marked with immediate seizure has just been apprehended in the reception hall. Shall we present her?”

“We... beg pardon?” she mumbled quizzically. “We don't recall ordering such a thing.”

“A human mare, my Princess. By decree of the Sun Princess, she was to be brought before either Majesty immediately.”

“Why do Our sister's arrangements always have to fall to me at the most perfidious of times?” she huffed. 
Then the alicorn's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wait. This human... she is not yet another businessmare, perchance?”

“No, my Princess. She appears to be one of those 'peacekeepers'. She carries a uniform and there was mention of a senior rank.”

“Oh.” the Princess exclaimed, rubbing her hooves together, intrigued. “Very well. Would you... mind sending this human in here for a minute?”

The soldier nodded and bowed out instantly.

Somewhere down the corridor, several hooves came tapping down over wood panels and crimson carpeting, followed by the heavier, slower meandering of human feet.

Soon, two Household Guards in their distinctive anthracite armour appeared in the chamber door, closely followed by a thoroughly spooked, wide-eyed human with a black mane and bandages around her back chin. Like her many co-humans in Equestria, she was wrapped in all kinds of clothes, only that those clothes seemed to be in a quite worn and soiled state.

As the Princess slipped back into her silver horseshoes under the cover of the tablecloth and regally erected her chin, she noticed the Captain gasping - his face suspended in a grimace of shock.

“E-Edith?!” he stammered.