The minotaurs cheering and applauding as they watched the Equestrian delegation proceed down the assigned parade route, moving through the capital city, slowly making their way towards Embassy Row and a temporary chance to get their hearing back because not only did minotaurs truly bellow their cheers, but nearly all of the visiting ponies were in the middle of their first wrenching experience with the sounds that could be produced by minotaur strength added to cupped palms... most of those minotaurs didn't pay all that much attention to the metallic blue pegasus mare quietly trotting next to the junior Princess. For the most part, they had no true experience with metallics, and many did not know they were looking at a particular rare specimen of pony. Mazein had a pony population of its own: some transient, the expected number at the embassy, and a few thousand who'd resided in the distant land their entire lives, mostly the descendants of families who had found a reason to change homelands and the children who had remained in the place they knew. A few thousand: perhaps not enough for a metallic to be born more than once every few generations, if that trait was in the local blood at all. They looked at her, yes, and those minotaurs who'd taught themselves to see beauty in a pony form did register how attractive she truly was. The native ponies who lined the route -- and had every pony in Mazein come to the capital to see this, to see something no local had truly witnessed in generations? It seemed they must have, and stomping hooves added an extra beat to the noise -- well, some of them tilted their heads, took somewhat longer looks, two had whistled -- and then they returned their focus to the pony next to the mare, because there was something more unique to behold.
That surprisingly-overshadowed mare, however, the one with the completely motionless wings... was paying attention to a lot of things.
Occasionally, she would turn towards a building, or at least the upper stories of them, all stone and metal and marble and anything else which would last, as minotaurs favored truly durable materials and, of necessity, extremely high ceilings. Sometimes she would glance up at the alicorn on her left. But most of all -- she looked at the minotaurs. Not because she'd never seen them before: there had recently been the ambassador (twice, with the second meeting carefully supervised), and long before that, an extended work assignment which her parents had taken on, naturally bringing their daughter along for the duration. But because she could look. Because they cheered, and applauded, and nothing more. And so the look of amazement dominated her face at nearly any given moment, staring at the tall bodies, and the ponies clustered at lower (and higher) levels, the few representatives from the other species who also claimed residency -- all of them simply watching her in her very minor role as a much lesser part of the parade.
Of course, there was a certain problem with that, and Luna was having a hard time keeping up. Some of those looks of amazement were slightly -- off. The beautiful head would turn, and the mane would naturally follow. Features would change expression. Just... not exactly when...
There were cheering, applauding minotaurs (and sundry), and Luna strongly suspected that most of the cheering was simply due to the fact that there was a parade. A parade the siblings hadn't exactly wanted -- but one which had become inevitable at the moment Mazein originally learned of the impending visit, for Celestia had not truly visited the distant nation in generations, and for Luna... there had been abeyance. Their ancient ally was determined to welcome them, and the locals were equally determined to listen to the marching bands, gaze at the giant balloons which occasionally tried to break up that din for thirty or so body lengths at a time, and bring their hands together in exactly the right way to shatter pony eardrums.
(There was a balloon immediately behind them. Luna had no idea why it looked like a giant mug.)
She was starting to get a headache. And that was before she accounted for what Joyous was doing to her.
Luna glanced down.
Her voice was carefully pitched to get through the noise, reaching the closest ears and just about nothing else. "You are... looking at things. More than a few things. Just about everything."
"I know!"
She could hear the emotion in that exclamation. Anypony could have, if they had been close enough to make it out within the din. And it stopped all the words which had been yet to come.
"It's amazing!" Joyous declared, and it felt as if the words were about to carry their own tears. (Did she need tears? What was going to be involved with tears? Flow patterns down her features, twisting with every move, and then there was the change of hue as fur absorbed moisture, how would that look with a metallic, and reflections from the water, the way it caught the early-morning light...) "Princess, I know it's... not real yet, not really real, but... I haven't... I haven't been outside and..."
A catch in her voice. Yes, crying. And crying from something other than the purest of pain.
"...thank you," Joyous said. "...thank you, no matter what happens. Thank you for just... being outside..."
The headache was starting to intensify.
"You are quite welcome," Luna smiled, and endured.
On her right, Celestia regally trotted, nodded to the crowd, smiled at ponies who had never seen her and minotaurs who only applauded all the louder. Around them, Guards and other delegation members marched, including two who were not Guards at all, but were simply wearing the associated armor because it was the easiest way to explain their presence: teleportation between Equestria and Mazein was, at best, a twice-daily proposition, and so all potential trips had needed to be reserved for true emergencies. Everypony who needed to come along had come along, and that left a thin white unicorn body stumbling under the weight of Solar protection. (His mane was having no trouble with the helmet, other than in carrying it halfway above his head.)
The minotaurs along the parade route... they had no experience of alicorns, but they knew ponies, and so the truest stares of amazement were reserved for the Diarchy. But for a few of the ponies in the delegation, the newest hires... a few had very little experience going the other way, and from the conversation taking place just behind Luna's tail, it seemed one had absolutely none.
"Yearrggh..."
"What's with you?"
"What are those.... things? Those mounds on their upper torsos? Under the -- shirts? Oh, no... that shirt's missing a scoop. I can see... I see part of her..."
A long, slow sigh. "They're called breasts."
"...they're all pregnant? Right now? Every last female here is pregnant or nursing? How fast do minotaurs breed? None of them look -- okay, that one is, but they've all got... do they just have their first calves before they even get out of school and then they nurse forever... how much milk do they need? I know their babies are bigger than ours, but Sun and Moon, that's just --"
A hoofstep went up, came down out of rhythm: Luna's guess was an aborted facehoofing. "No. They just -- have them. All the time."
Disbelief mixed with a desperate plea to hear any degree of negation. "All the time."
"Starting from puberty and then for their whole lives. You've seriously never seen the females?"
"No, I... I.... Yearrggh..."
And Joyous just kept staring. Not specifically at the source of Yearrggh...: she was used to that. But at everything. Everyone. Everypony.
Luna's headache was... really getting bad now. She glanced down --
Joyous smiled at her.
Smiled.
-- and looked up again.
"Luna?" Her sister was giving her a very practiced side-eye, accompanied by a careful whisper, one which barely budged the smile on her lips as she continued to greet the crowd. "Are you okay?"
This pitch was meant for her sibling's ears alone. "It is... like trying to fly by directing the movement of each individual feather. But I am managing. How much further to the embassy?"
Trying to be reassuring, "The front of the parade is probably going past it now. Just hang on, Luna."
"And... how long is the parade itself?"
Failing to be reassuring, "There's eighteen balloons ahead of us, twelve marching bands, and nineteen floats. You do the math."
The process was automatic. So was the groan.
The properly-sized door opened for them, and they stepped onto, if not exactly Equestrian soil, then at least Equestrian flooring.
"Welcome, Princesses!" Ambassador Vaquero smiled. "To our little piece of legally-home in Mazein. Is there anything I can get you? Refreshments? May I show you to your quarters? Have the staff --"
"-- headache medicine," Luna firmly ordered.
The earth pony winced a little. "I know, Princess. I've been there, although never from the center of it. But the parades can be -- a little loud. The politics are worse, but the parades..." She managed a smile. "Well, the politics are later, and it's a private meeting to start with. I'll send out for -- oh, is this Joyous?" Who had held back slightly, reluctant to be inside again, and thus sent Luna's headache into a single sharp spike. "She looks good! Perfect! I didn't think anypony could do that, but Princess, you're just making her look --"
"-- is the embassy safe?" Celestia carefully interrupted.
The ambassador nodded. "Everypony here has been cleared."
"Good. Get everypony inside, please. And then close the door, along with all the curtains."
It was done. Joyous stayed close to Luna, watching the no-longer-buried winces traveling across the dark fur. "Princess? Are you --"
"-- I am ending it now, Joyous. We are on our own land, at least in a legal sense. We are isolated." And the next words were true. "I am sorry that I must, but -- I must end it now. Please understand."
The pegasus' eyes closed, about two-tenths of a second after they should have. "I understand, Princess. And -- thank you. It was... it was the best thing that's happened in a long time. No matter what happens here, whether the two of you find something to help or not, I... had a whole parade of being outside, and..."
"Again..." and she had to force the smile past two kinds of pain, "...you are quite welcome."
Luna's eyes closed, opened. And metallic blue had been replaced by a singular shade of yellow.
Joyous stared up at her through the clear little window at the front of the Hoovmat Suit. Her fully-enclosed wings failed to rustle. (It was impossible to construct clothing which went over feathers and did not sacrifice at least some degree of flight, and the need to make the joints airtight had only worsened the problem. In the end, it had simply been easier to keep Joyous grounded, and hope that nothing occurred to give her cause for takeoff.) "I should probably go up to my quarters. The filters must need changing soon, right?" Luna nodded. "Okay. I'll see you both later." And she trotted towards the ramp which led to the upper floors, with some bounce still present in the fabric-covered step from the recent memory of having been happy.
Luna waited for her to get out of sight, plus ten extra heartbeats for the sake of safety. Ordered the rest of the delegation to seek their own temporary quarters, waited for those ponies to depart. Put embassy staff and ambassador to welcoming them all, preferably in the far corners of the building. And finally, with the welcoming room cleared of all but the sisters, sank to all four knees and softly moaned.
Celestia immediately dropped down next to her. "Luna?"
"Covering the suit in a realistic simulation of a pony body," Luna half-whispered, mostly to keep her own voice from hurting her ears. "Simple enough. The metallic aspect of her fur? I have been in her presence more than enough to simulate it. But to keep that coating moving with her, through every little step and catch, pause and acceleration, and making it match her face as she gazed all about her, my field wrapped about her body to catch every little nostril flare, every blink, every word she said made to match on the mirage of a mouth, and keeping that up as she was doing it in real time, or as close to it as I could come, and doing it all through a fully hidden field while trying to account for any distortions that might create in the magic... Sister, illusions have always been among your weaknesses, and just as high among my strengths. But... in real time, over a living body that was not my own... it has been... some time. And it is not that I am out of practice: it is simply that one reaches a point where no practice will help. Should the parade route have been another three hundred body lengths longer, I feel I might have slipped. And if her wings had been freed..." That was worth a shudder. "As it happens, I am simply hoping that everyone and everypony around us was caught up in the parade."
"They only saw what was happening in your coating," Celestia assured her. "Not underneath. They had no way of knowing if the timing was off."
"I suppose," Luna slowly considered. "But it is still somewhat embarrassing, to have fallen behind."
"Luna, nopony else in the world could have kept it up for that long. I'm proud of you. And -- I can think of a few other ponies who would be just as proud. Remind me -- what's the best kind of illusion?"
That put a tiny (if still pained) smile on her face. "'The kind where nopony knows there was ever a trick at all,'" she quoted, and regretfully let the imitation go.
Celestia nodded. "Just one thing, though."
"Yes?"
"Why did you do that?"
Luna would have normally tried to force some degree of visible innocence. She couldn't seem to push it past the migraine. "Do what?"
"Let her march with us at all." And the tone made her suspect the elder already knew the answer -- and yet the question continued. "The parade started at the edge of the city, when we pulled up in the covered carriage. You could have memorized the location, left Joyous hidden there with the Guards who were watching the transports, and teleported back for her when we reached the embassy. You practiced short-term coverage before we left, in case of emergency. But this wasn't anything close, Luna. We prepared to use illusions in case of crisis, not parade. So... why?"
There had been a great deal of preparation. Making sure to whatever degree they could that Equestria was safe, and they could be contacted in the event that it was not. Calming the fears of all those who felt their temporary departure guaranteed disaster. Extensive testing of the Hoovmat Suits (Revised). And the illusion, in case of that unknown emergency. Not parade.
"You know," Luna said, and wished to leave it at that.
Her sister wouldn't allow it. "I know I want to hear you say it."
Luna sighed. "I wished -- to give her a gift. Because we may not succeed. We have reached the larger scale of our destination, and currently possess no means of narrowing the range. We may fail, sister, we may still fail and..."
Three slow breaths. All of them hurt.
"...I wished to give her time outside, without threat. Of being looked at, and treated as if she was... normal. A gift that... I know the cost of seeking too dearly, freely given, without price. Is that so wrong...?"
A moment of silence, and then her sister's right wing arced across Luna's back.
"You haven't changed," Celestia quietly said.
A small head shake, and everything from the neck up twinged. "I have. I -- accept more than I once did, with full awareness of the price for not doing so. But it is not wrong, to wish for others what I cannot have for myself. It is not, and I will not allow even you to say --"
The wing curled, pulled her in.
"The best part of you hasn't changed," Celestia told her. "And I missed that, Luna. I missed you so much..."
"And -- I you..."
They nuzzled. The nuzzle meant for family. And, after a time, each reluctantly pulled back.
"Very well," Luna said. "Allow me some time to recover, for whatever is required for the onset period of the dosage: I am sure we have at least that much before we must depart, and it will also allow the parade time to disperse. And afterwards..."
The elder sighed.
"We go and formally present our lies."
To understand Mazein, you needed to understand something about minotaurs.
It had been generations since Celestia had last trotted through any major portion of the distant nation's settled zones, and minotaurs -- well, their culture was fairly stable. Their constructs were not. Ponies often had trouble accepting innovation: minotaurs not only embraced it, they fought for it. Their magic was not suited to creation, other than through getting the materials into the workshop in bulk. Their hands were, and so minotaurs built. They invented. The first camera had been made by minotaurs, along with the first movies, pure chemistry and machinery in action -- but a partnership with ponies had been required to create the magic which had led to the talkies. (Unfortunately, as such sound recording workings had been designed to accompany film, they worked rather poorly when separated from it, and thus the dubious syllable-count storage which characterized each generational device of note-taking Minders.) Travel Track had invented the concept of train: a minotaur had looked at his designs and quickly sketched out the concept for a mechanical rail spike driver, which had cut at least five moons off the total construction time. Minotaurs loved to rely on their own bodies first and foremost, let their strength drive them happily forward into a world which wasn't always ready for the jovial party to begin -- but bodies contained minds, and so most saw nothing wrong with having a few helpful gears and springs assist in clearing the path.
So visitors to Mazein would see things as they gazed out the windows of the private carriage. Two legs pushing against pedals, a huge body delicately balanced on an extremely reinforced bicycle. Traffic signals which changed not through magic, but by clockwork. Innovations being tested, and should something fail? Get up, brush away the debris, and try again.
To that extent, the society changed, because that was what minotaurs liked. But if you understood something about minotaurs...
They passed houses, always made of the strongest materials: Celestia offhoofedly noticed that black ironwood was starting to become a popular source, although it didn't quite allow for the same level of columns and crenelations which the species often seemed to possess a mild addiction to. And in front of each house -- would be another house.
It would not be very large. For the newest families, the scale would be perhaps one to one hundred: for the oldest, one to ten. But it would be perfect. It was often in better shape than the residence behind it. Miniature doors would open, water flowed through tiny pipes, every doll-sized device and machine would operate as it should, if anyone was somehow in a position to activate them. They never did.
They passed things which had been tied up for security: minotaurs knew a way to weave metal into long, flexible cords. But always cords. You could travel all of Mazein and, but for those rare occasions when their machines gave them no other choice, you would never see a chain. Some citizens would wear nose rings which hadn't been attached to anything in centuries, both a statement and quiet shout of dare. I control myself. Never you. If you want the proof, just try to seize this.
They passed statues, and the shadow of a stone whip fell across Celestia's face, for minotaurs would not allow themselves to forget. To forget was to chance having it happen again. And she looked at those statues, as she had looked generations before, looked at the stone-captured images of those who ripped the whips apart, and still there was nothing for the one who should have been remembered best of all.
If you understood something about minotaurs, you would start to understand their government. Why it functioned as it did, why they'd gone with such an outwardly-insane form and somehow made it work. Because a long time ago, there had been whips, and chains, and screams in the night as children were pulled away from their parents because work was needed elsewhere, and slaves could hardly be expected to have a say in what happened to the fresh source of labor they'd been ordered to produce. But... those who cracked the whips were attempting to enslave minotaurs. They had found their hold, they kept it -- and then their grip had been forced open. The hands (adapted paws) which held those whips had seen fingers bent backwards, heard bones shatter. And no minotaur had ever been a slave again.
But they remembered. They remembered what it was like to scream and have no one hear. And so, when the time came to form a government of their own, they had decided that everyone should be heard. Always.
They had created a personal madness, and called it democracy.
It had taken some time to refine. In the modern day, there were requirements: citizens had to pass an intelligence test, a general knowledge exam, and get through one of the world's most exhaustive sanity checks. (The knowledge exam was repeated every two years, to make sure everyone was current on the issues. The sanity check requirement had been rejected by Equestria's Day Court time and time again, mostly due to the representatives' fear of having it take out most of their voter bases.) But once that was done, any minotaur of any age (along with all those who had citizenship in their land) would be granted the right to vote. And when there was a matter of policy to decide, any at all, those who were interested would gather in the huge meeting places, the logeions, and they would debate. Argue. Have reasonable discussions of points and counterpoints which, because it was minotaurs doing the discussing, often led to some degree of wrestling match, where each combatant was expected to immediately forget all hostilities at the moment the pin was verified. Then they would vote. And here in the capital...
"It is... bigger," Luna softly said.
"There's more of them now," Celestia said, and automatically smiled.
Simply, "Good."
The building rose in concentric rings, each new layer a little wider than the one below. There were columns, and crenelations, and the arcing windows they both remembered of old. (The same windows: minotaurs built things to last.) It rose a dozen stories into the air, wider than a hoofball stadium at the highest level, and when there was truly a matter worth voting on, one of national importance -- every qualified living citizen of Mazein who could reach the capital would gather at the Logeion to play their part in the Senate. For all had a voice, and so all would go to express what they saw as their most fundamental right. The right to have that voice heard.
And next to the Logeion...
Luna stared at it for a while.
"And also bigger," she quietly observed as the Skênê went by. "But that is only to be expected."
Celestia silently nodded.
In the Logeion, the living cast their votes. The Skênê, one-fifth the size, was for the dead.
Minotaurs did not worship their ancestors, not in a way which could be viewed through the lens of religion. But they believed that the deceased were never quite gone. The world was for the living -- but the dead were welcome to watch, and perhaps occasionally provide a whisper of advice. They swore on their Ancients, sometimes swore at them if the relationship hadn't been particularly solid. Built miniature houses to host generations of departed family, knelt quietly in front of them and asked those they had loved for guidance. Those in truly desperate need might travel all the way to the first battlefields and request the knowledge of those who had freed them. Few claimed to have truly heard voices, and... there were times when Celestia had a hard time believing they had heard anything at all, even silent whispers which arrived in the soul as a burst of intuition. The shadowlands were the shadowlands, and...
...but they believed.
And thus the Skênê, where the dead could invisibly gather to silently debate, argue, and execute some particularly fine intangible pins while working out the finer details of a policy decision. The Skênê, which actually had a role in the government -- something which had made Celestia laugh with delight on the very first night it had been proposed to her, and still put a smile on her face in the modern day.
For should the entire nation of Mazein, every last citizen with their voice heard and nowhere else to turn to, vote to a tie -- the decision of the Skênê would break it.
(It had never happened. Minotaurs were practical that way.)
Of course, the thing about having a government based on letting everyone speak was that it required someone strong enough to enforce order on the process. A voice loud enough to be heard over all others, one which could moderate the debates, require speaking in turns, break up the biggest fights and, after someone had their own voice properly heard and just kept on going to the point of drowning out all others, a voice which could effectively make someone shut up.
Mazein had a role for such citizens, although it was a hard one to hold onto for more than half a generation. A role -- and a special place.
The secretary led the sisters through the curving stone corridors which made up the edges for the lowest level of the Logeion, back to the little office. It really wasn't necessary. They both remembered the way. And the big wooden door opened, they both stepped inside...
"Referee Moonsault," Celestia politely greeted the huge minotaur sitting behind the desk, where she was overshadowing just about all of it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Rounding Moonsault stood up (which blocked out about a third of the available light) and casually strode around the desk. She extended a giant hand, then slowly curled the fingers in. Celestia raised her right forehoof and carefully bumped the knuckles. Luna followed suit, and the current Referee returned to her place.
"Celestia and Luna Invictus," she casually said. "How very -- unexpected."
Luna blinked. The Referee didn't miss it. "Something wrong, Princess?"
Her sister went with honesty, although not necessarily all of it. "I have -- not heard my full name in quite some time. I was not aware that anyone still knew --"
"-- oh, it's written down somewhere," Moonsault smoothly interrupted. "A lot of things are, if you know where to look. So, first of all... welcome to Mazein. And Polis, of course, welcome to the capital as well. And Princess Luna, welcome back to the world: I know I had a letter sent in the usual pouch after we finally found out why sunrise was delayed for a few hours and stopped preparing for -- but never mind that, at least for a few minutes. Did you enjoy the parade? It took some work to throw together, especially on something less than two weeks' notice, but you know marching bands: just hint that there might be a chance to beat on drums in public and you'll be turning them away across the border. Every border. Which we've had some requests for, mostly from those marching with them. And I'm sure you found your accommodations comfortable, as they happen to be at your embassy, at least for now. I understand from Ambassador Power that you intend to do some touring. Which leads to the natural question."
And she stood up again. Stared at them. Staring down.
"Why?"
There was such a thing as a minotaur con artist. Thieves, criminals, artists of the lie verbally weaving perfect falsehoods. But for the most part, they tended to be direct.
Celestia prepared her own lie to come out under Sun.
Casually, "Why what?"
"Why are you here?" Moonsault asked. Not demanded: asked. Admittedly, it was a fairly fine distinction. "You personally haven't been here in a hundred and ninety-eight years. Not on tour. Oh, you've popped in from time to time, I understand, more or less literally: a teleport to your embassy and then a flight to the Logeion if Mazein truly needed to speak with you in person. You'd stay an hour or two, maybe a night at the most, and then you'd be gone. The last of those was a little over two years ago, as part of your personally delivering an explanation for the worldwide panic which understandably resulted when Sun happened to be late. You were here for about ninety minutes, and didn't answer anywhere near as many questions as my predecessor would have liked, which may be part of why he's now my predecessor. And now you're back, with the pony whom you told us was not ultimately responsible for so many financial markets nearly crashing entirely because economies tend to self-destruct when a few very influential and somewhat panicky individuals look outside their windows in the morning and see that it's still night. They tend to sell off during such situations. Loudly."
Luna winced. That was the outer reaction. Celestia suspected the inner was a lot worse.
"Now, we're allies, Mazein and Equestria," the Referee continued. "And we've been allies for a long time. A lot of things are written down somewhere, Mares Invictus --"
-- and she sighed.
The big body seemed to deflate slightly. The head dipped, and horns shifted accordingly.
"-- including a few hints which suggest that without the two of you, Mazein wouldn't exist," she softly finished. "I respect that. And, to a fair degree, both of you as well. But we put up with a lot, the other nations, every day, in the name of having an 'every day'. Knowing that Sun and Moon depend on Equestria. On one pony, and then on two. Most citizens don't think about it, and that's a good thing. Knowing how -- fragile things truly are... isn't a good thought to have every day, and I'm going to stop having it a little after you leave my office, plus maybe one more nightmare. The ones a lot of sapients had on the night after Sun didn't come up when it was supposed to. The ones a few of the more easily scared are still having."
She felt it before she saw it, so attuned to her sister's reactions as to sense the vibration on her right.
Luna was starting to shake.
"Stop." It wasn't an order: it couldn't be with a non-pony. But again, the distinction was fairly fine. "Stop, Referee Moonsault. This isn't the time or place, not in front of --"
"-- let her speak." Luna's words were soft, and the lack of volume let all the vibration through. "We are on their soil, sister. They speak. They are heard. That is their law. And... she is only saying what many would say. Have wished to say for over two years. So... let her speak."
And with open anger, the air around her feeling as if it would be so easy to burn, "Luna, she's --"
Just above a whisper. "-- familiar in her approach, is she not? Very... familiar..."
The younger took a step forward. Looked at the minotaur.
"Speak," she said, and waited.
A slow nod. "The Nightmare. What was it?"
Luna's wings tensed. Feathers trembled. "An -- outside entity."
Celestia was fighting to keep her head up. To stay calm, to not see the room through a haze of fire. Luna never talked about it, never wanted to talk about it with anypony other than her, shouldn't be made to --
And, forcefully, "What did it do to you?"
Luna's eyes closed. Her knees bent. Celestia's eyes automatically pinpointed the single best place on the minotaur to spear with her horn.
"Burial," Luna whispered. "Internal burial. Among mirrors. I..."
"Stop." It had been a shout, and the familiar little office just barely held the echo. "If you keep hurting her, I swear if you say one more --"
The papers on the desk were starting to smoke. Rounding Moonsault glanced down, mostly with vague disinterest. "So that's true. Charge me if you're going to, Invictus the elder. I don't have one more. I have two, and if you want to stop them, you'll have to kill me." And before Celestia could move, "Where is it now?"
And Luna's agonized response was "Dead." It was the only word that could apply.
The final blow against beaten body. "Could it happen again?"
"Not... not to me. But... there was the one, only the one-in-many, and... we do not know if there are others. My sister searched and never found another. It may have been singular, the last of its kind. Or she may have never found the proper wild zone, or portion of chaos terrain, perhaps one of the deep places... We do not know, Referee Moonsault. We only know what to watch for --"
"-- and you never told anyone else?"
And Celestia's corona, which had been on its way to a full double, abruptly dimmed.
The smoke dwindled. Slowly, too slowly, the office cooled.
"We put up with a lot," the Referee said. "We really do. But I think -- not on official behalf of Mazein, although I'm pretty sure everyone would follow me in the vote on this -- we are entitled to know what we have to watch out for. What could happen here. To me, for that matter, if a new one decided to make a move on our nation. I know this hurt you, Princess, and I don't like hurting you. I'm looking at your sister's face and I know part of her is considering shattering every treaty we ever had. But imagine how much it's going to hurt an entire country if it happens here."
All Luna seemed capable of was the single nod.
"You have Moon. She has Sun. And all we have... is this. So please... brief me," Rounding Moonsault said, and there was no distinction between that and begging. "As our allies, if we're still allies after this... keep us safe."
Luna closed her eyes, inclined her horn towards the floor. After a moment, Rounding came out from behind the desk again and sat on the old stone. As Celestia watched, Luna sank down besides the minotaur.
And talked.
They were back in their original positions, with Luna having just finished her requested water, trough removed. She had not told the Referee everything. But she had said everything required to -- keep them safe.
It had hurt. It had been pulling the bandage off the wound in one go and ripping out most of the fur underneath, along with some of the skin. But there were times when the best way to clean the wound was to let it freely bleed for a while.
"Thank you," Rounding Moonsault quietly said.
Her sister's eyes were still too narrow. "I understand why you did that."
Placidly, "Good."
"I understand it was necessary."
Calm. "I thought you might have figured that out."
Luna could easily guess at the thought lurking in purple eyes, which was likely something along the lines of 'And the next time Mazein needs tariff or trade talks, I am going to take you to the bucking groomers.' The actual words emerged as "Is there anything else?"
The minotaur nodded. "Why are you here?"
"In Mazein?" Celestia asked. It got another nod, and the prepared lie was triggered. "My sister has spent some time adjusting to the changes in Equestria. But it's a big world, Referee Moonsault. There are nations which now exist that weren't around before -- abeyance, and those which crossed the full gap have changed. We have a calm period in Equestria right now -- so we agreed it was time to go and see a few places, the new and the old. So we'll stay in Mazein for a while, if you'll still have us. And the next time we get an extended outbreak of calm, we might head somewhere else."
"I can accept that," the Referee said.
"I'm glad to hear --"
"-- I'm pretty sure you're at least half-lying to me. But I can accept that, unless I find out you're lying about something big. It's less perittómata távros than I get from most of the other nations." And before either could respond to that, she shrugged. "It just feels a little weird, having Torque follow you home. Then again, with both of you here, it's not as if he has much to do in Equestria, so he might as well take a vacation and have some decent home-grown cherimoya for a change. And there's worse bulls to have as your tour guide. Personally, I thought there was at least some chance you were trying to get some time off from the press: we just got a shipment of some newspapers from about a couple of weeks ago, and I'm really not sure about you having supposedly 'used the tax system as a personal weapon of vengeance against the small businesspony.' So --"
There was a knock at the door. They all glanced in that direction.
"What?" the Referee directly said.
The next blow caved the door in.
Sections and splinters of ancient wood were strewn across the floor. And on the other side, the hard-snorting bull was completely ignoring the pieces which had gone into his hands.
"Moonsault," he snarled. "I challenge."
She stood up, and very quickly.
"Your current number is twenty-nine, Rake." The big shoulders were starting to tense. "Twenty-eight others go before you, one every six weeks. But you won't have to worry about that, because you just failed your sanity check. What are you doing?"
"I challenge the old way!" he roared, stepping over the fragments. His gaze was fixed, oddly glassy: he didn't even seem to register that there were two alicorns in the room. Muscles pulsed, swelled, seemed to become a little larger with the loss of every extra drop of blood. "I challenge not by debate, but by strength! I challenge, Moonsault! You answer!"
"There's something wrong with you," the Referee very accurately said. "And if it's -- no, your eyes are -- Rake, what did you do --"
The bull charged.
It was something the siblings had learned the hard way: over a long stretch, four legs would always win: over a very short one, two had the advantage. Few things in Equestria moved faster than a minotaur who only needed to cross a few body lengths, and this one roared as he moved, seemed to teleport across the distance, Luna's horn ignited on instinct, her corona brightened and --
-- she yanked Celestia out of the way. Pulled her sister into her, nearly went down from the sudden (and impressive) weight against her side, the bull's horns were lowered, he was going directly for Rounding, whose arms were coming up and --
-- she had him. One hand on each horn, the tips grabbed just before they could penetrate. And now there was new blood, dripping from palms.
"Referee Moonsault!" Celestia called out, visibly trying to get her bearings back as her own corona ignited. "We'll --"
"-- no! Challenge! You can't interfere! He's mine!"
She was one of the biggest minotaurs they'd ever seen. Huge. Her muscles bulged, her hooves fought for purchase and ultimately braced themselves against the back wall, she learned forward and snorted and pushed with everything she had, the seams on the sleeves of her blouse beginning to give out from the pressure of the strength beneath --
-- and he was forcing her back.
He was smaller than she was: they'd lost that in the initial sighting, too focused on shattered door and bleeding hands. He didn't have as much power. And he was forcing her back. Her spine was nearly against the wall. The horns were getting closer.
A unicorn's horn would spear. Those of a minotaur would gore.
Her grip was slipping, her palms too slick with blood.
"Challenge," he grunted. "Challenge..." As if it was the only word left.
"...and you just failed the intelligence test," Rounding Moonsault told him.
She smiled.
Her body dropped.
Her legs went out from under her, hooves kicked forward into his legs even as her arms went up, lifted him as she used the horns to curve his head forward and down, her strength inverting the bull until --
-- his horns simply scraped against the old stone wall.
The back of his skull hit a lot harder.
He grunted again, just for a moment. And then her arms went forward.
She sat still for a few seconds, breathing hard. Bleeding fast.
"...okay. I think... I think you can do something now..."
They slowly trotted closer, towards the remains of the desk and the downed bull on top of the fragments. Luna got there first. "Allow me." Her corona ignited.
"What are you -- Horns of the Ancients, that's cold! My hands --"
"-- it numbs the pain and slows the blood flow. I have done this before, Rounding Moonsault. Frostbite will not occur. But you need a doctor, and stitching. We will take you to one, but you will have to guide us: we do not know your city and have no teleport sites other than the embassy."
A slow nod. "And bring him. Something's wrong. I thought it was..." She shook her head, hard, as if trying to dislodge an idea. "He's never been the brightest and he's too stubborn for his own good, but for him to call an old challenge, it's like he was..."
Celestia had reached them. "An old challenge... Just be glad you knocked him out, Referee. I know what the other option was."
"But he wasn't thinking," the minotaur said. "Old challenges are illegal now, unless you can get it overridden by vote. And he doesn't have the backing. I know that. He should have --" and blinked. "I saw his eyes. It was like they were covered in glass. I've never seen that before. But it's in the eyes, and..."
"The directions to the hospital," Luna reminded her. "Quickly."
"No," Rounding said. "Not yet. Can you flip him over? Carefully."
Luna, not quite understanding the reason for the request, still cooperated with it. The bull was turned over, closed eyes now unable to regard the old ceiling, suspended within her field --
-- and Celestia saw it first. The glint in the shadows.
"You had papers on the desk. All the lighting's overhead. No drinks, no mugs..."
Rounding looked down. "No glass."
She knelt down, reached under his slow-breathing, touched the tip of a bloody finger to the thin tinted concave yellow dome, which was just the right size and shape to go over a minotaur's eye. And then she straightened, with her other hand moving towards the bull's face. One eyelid was pried open: the orb beneath was normal, if somewhat glassy. Then the other, and --
"-- Ancients gore it!"
Every blood vessel in the eye was swollen. Capillaries seemed on the verge of rupture. The natural yellow was almost entirely lost.
"Red-tinge," the Referee muttered. "Get us in the air, sisters Invictus, and I'll guide you to the hospital. Because this idiot needs it more than I do. And make sure they treat him first."
"Your hands --" Celestia began to protest.
"-- his life!"
Each sibling took one: Celestia got the Referee, Luna levitated the challenger. And they flew towards help, for there was nothing else they could currently do.
It was calm in Equestria, surprisingly so, enough that the trip hadn't ultimately felt like that much of a risk on its own.
Perhaps not so in Mazein.