The Peer, The Prodigy, The Prodigal Daughter.
Three years ago...
Canterlot was fading.
Any fool could see it, thought Polaris Blueblood. He could see it especially well on this cold spring morning. He gazed out of the window at the city. The buildings at the edge were bleached and crumbling. Shanties and crude huts spread across half-built highways. Ponies shuffled through the drizzle to earn their rations in the Merchant Quarter, or the sooty Industrial District, or as servants in the Enclaves or the Canterlot Academy. It seemed as if the entire city were waking from hibernation, slowly coming alive for the summer forage and autumn harvests. There would be a brief roar of commerce and activity, trains of crops in and goods out, even a festival on good years, and then the city would sleep for the winter once more. The whole city would burrow and shiver, the unluckiest ponies would die of hunger or cold or the cruce or any of a hundred other privations, and Canterlot would grow in dark and terror until the next spring came.
Blueblood had seen thirty-one springs in his lifetime, and they told a depressing story. Each spring, another construction project was abandoned, another broken water main was left in disrepair, another highway collapsed. Ponies trudged to work slower and fewer. A few more dying suburbs disappeared, and tent cities welled up in their place. There were less crop wagons and more guards per wagon. Three festivals a year dropped to one festival a year to a festival every other year. Each winter, the city fell apart, and each spring, they fixed a little less.
Blueblood glanced at the dark-red markings on his left front-hoof, and chuckled mirthlessly. Of all the fools in Canterlot, fate had picked him as its savior.
He backed away from the window with a sigh, and paced the room. He ran a hooftip idly across the study’s many shelves and cabinets. The contents of this room, of all of Bluestone Manor, seemed to be a metaphor for Canterlot. Old, unimportant trophies gathered dust, next to empty spots where the valuable ones had been pawned or won away. Portraits and paintings had been auctioned off and replaced with prints, sometimes not replaced at all, leaving oddly blank spots on the wall. Treasures replaced with trinkets, first editions replaced with paperbacks, the few artifacts that had no commercial value drawing the eyes in a weighty, depressing way, a sad reminder of bygone eras and past glories.
It wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t like this even when Polaris was in his teenage years. That was proof of how much his family’s fortunes had faded. There was perhaps one generation of Bluebloods left before the estate was drawn up between greater families, its assets sold off, its magics siphoned away.
Or at least, until last Thursday happened.
There was a delicate knock at the door.
“Come in, Rarity,” said Polaris.
A white unicorn with a lush, purple mane walked into the room. “Duke Blueblood,” she said, bowing, “you requested my presence?”
Polaris smiled. “Yes, I did. Please, take a seat.” He gestured to an armchair that was once a luxurious antique and was now simply an antique. His horn lit up, and he telekinetically closed the door to the room, opened the drinks cabinet, and poured two gin and tonics before setting the drinks down. Such a display of telekinetic strength would make most unicorns faint from exertion, and the ice he conjured would be a laughable impossibility too.
Both unicorns cradled the glasses between their hooves and sipped. It would have been exhausting for Rarity to hold it with telekinesis, and crass for Polaris to do so when his companion could not.
Rarity caught a glimpse of something on Polaris’ left hoof, and her eyes lit up. “Is that...”
“Yes,” said Blueblood, “it’s a Command Spell.” He extended his fore and rolled his fetlock, allowing Rarity to get a good view of the blood-red glyph. “It appeared four days ago. Rather odd-looking thing isn’t it? It reminds me of the mage-runes that earth pony magicians tattoo onto their skin.”
Rarity gasped softly. “It’s true, then? Another... ‘Grail War’ is taking place, and...”
“And I’m taking part, yes.” The smile on Polaris’ face faded. “That’s actually why I called you here today.”
“Oh?”
Polaris sighed. “You need to leave. I’m paying you severance, plus relocation costs, plus a bonus for excellent work. There are several possible places you and your family could go, as long as they are away from Canterlot. When it becomes known that I am in the Grail War, you will not be safe as long as you are by my side. My opponents will go after you and your family all to get to me. When... If I survive, I will gladly take you back into my employ.”
Rarity burst out laughing. “S-sir, I’m sorry, but that’s a terrible idea. I’m staying.”
“You’re bloody well not!”
“Oh, really?” Rarity smirked over her glass. “Who will bring you the gossip from the serving halls at the Canterlot Academy? Who will bring you news from butlers of the nobles in the Enclaves that you fell out with? In fact, who can verify that the information Fancy Pants is feeding you is correct? He will be the one adjudicating this whole thing, no?”
“How did you know that?” asked Blueblood, sharply.
“He works with gossips, and I’m an excellent listener. But that’s quite beside the point. At least one of the other players—oh, Masters, whatever—will come from the highest echelons of the Canterlot Academy. The rest are up in the air, and the sooner you know who they are, the better your chances will be.”
“...I confess you would be valuable, but I cannot allow—”
“Sir, what are your alternatives? Even with all the artifacts of your ancestors at your hooves, you will need to spend the next three years sharpening your magical and physical skills to their very peak. If you try to take over all of your intelligence gathering, research, and administrative work yourself, you will cripple your chances in the battle. If you hire somepony to replace me, you are simply sacrificing an innocent life to save mine. Not to mention, you have no guarantee that you could trust any hire you make from now on. Your secrecy won’t last long at all among those that matter in this regard, let alone once you start sending trusted companions to safety.”
Blueblood glared at her, before his expression fell away into one of guilt. “Rarity, we... even as a lowborn secretary, you have been a greater friend to this family than half of our noble allies in the Enclaves. My life would have been far less happy without your presence, and I... the Bluebloods are a dying family. This Grail War may be our last breath. If I win, we could save Canterlot, or at least slow its death for another few generations. If I lose... It would wound me to see you brought down alongside us, when you deserve so much more.”
“Oh, my duke,” whispered Rarity. She walked over to him, and placed a hoof on his cheek. “Because of your generosity, my family are no longer a meal away from poverty. My younger sister can go to school. My parents will not freeze in their old age. You may have your rough edges, but of all the ponies in Canterlot who call themselves the nobility, you are the only one with a true noble spirit. I would follow you to the gates of Tartarus if you asked, because if you asked, I know it would be the right thing to do.”
Conflicting emotions played out on Blueblood’s face. A tiny smile finally won out. “Very well, then,” he said, softly. “I accept your request. Truthfully, it would not have been the same without you, Rarity.”
Rarity bowed, and came up wearing a smile. “For the good of the House Blueblood, then?”
Duke Blueblood nodded. “For the good of Canterlot.”
* * *
Down a windy path near the raggedy end of the Canterlot Academy campus, where the fields and outbuildings sunk into the woody, weedy scrubland of the Canterhorn foothills, lay a pond and a bench. The pond was frozen over, a fine dusting of snow on an inch of ice, thick with white-whipped reeds, bull-rushes sticking out of the ice at odd angles, and duck nests long since abandoned for warmer climes.
On the bench sat two unicorns: a white-coated stallion with bags under his eyes and a rakish blue mane, and a yellow mare with a fiery mane. The male wore the winter uniform of the Royal Guard, a thick wool trenchcoat over a reinforced breastplate, as well as a fur-lined officer's cap, while the mare wore the traditional winter robes of the academy professoriat.
The mare said, “When is your sister meeting us?”
The stallion looked at a battered pocketwatch and replied, “I told her to meet us here at noon, so uh, fifteen seconds.”
A wry smile crept across the mare’s face. “That’s not the Twilight I remember. She’d turn up twenty minutes early to everything, muzzle-deep in two books at once.”
“Heh, ain’t that the truth. I think the EIS shook some of those habits loose. Now she’s switched from scary-early to crazy-punctual.”
With no flash or fanfare, a purple unicorn appeared on the bench next to them. Her navy-blue mane was trimmed into a sharp, straight fringe, well above her hard, deep-purple eyes. She wore a black cassock, the garments of a Seer Council warlock, but had Royal Guard rank insignia stitched onto the right shoulder. The insignia marked her as a warrant officer and spellcasting specialist. She wore an ivory clerical collar, and when the icy wind blew across it, tiny white runes were almost visible. She seemed entirely unbothered by the cold.
The stallion looked at his watch. “Two seconds past noon, Twiley,” he said with a grin. “You’re slipping.”
“I was checking the perimeter for any interlopers or conjurations, sir. Your team of bodyguards are fifty meters closer than you assigned them, but aside from that, we are clear.” Her voice was flat and curt, as if conversation itself was a distasteful thing that, if not avoided, should at least be dispensed with quickly. Her eyebrows perked up, and she said, “Captain Shining Armor. Professor Sunset Shimmer. It’s good to see you both.”
“You can relax, Twilight,” said Sunset. “We’re not expecting to be swarmed by enemies just yet.”
“Doesn’t hurt to check,” said Twilight.
“You can drop the ‘sir’ this and ‘captain’ that too, Twiley,” said Shining Armor.
Twilight did not sigh, but her entire face conveyed a sigh so well that the actual action was superfluous. “I know you are my brother, but improper forms of address are still a breach of Royal Guard protocol—”
“You can drop it because you’re no longer an active member of the Royal Guard.”
“What!”
“You’re on administrative leave effective immediately, and then you’re leaving the force on a medical discharge at the end of the month.”
Twilight’s face jerked back as if slapped, but her normal expression quickly returned. “...I see.”
Shining Armor leaned back on the bench and kneaded his chin with a hoof, trying to figure out the best way to breach a tricky subject. “We’re putting you on a special assignment. It’ll be the most important assignment of your life. Your role will be separate from the Royal Guard’s role, and more important too. We are now part of something far bigger than Royal Guard business.”
Twilight looked at the other two unicorns askance. “So, when you say ‘we...’”
Sunset Shimmer stood up, walked to the edge of the icy pond, and turned to look back at her. “Twilight, what do you know about the Grail Wars?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then replied: “A... ‘contest’ between powerful magical families. Five factions each time. It occurs approximately once per century, involves heavy use of magic and lethal force, and there is a powerful magical prize.”
Sunset’s eyebrows shot up, and then she burst out laughing. “I’d forgotten how sharp you were! You know, you’re not supposed to know a single word of what you just told me?”
“Of course.”
“How did you find out, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Twilight said, “Hmm. The Grail War is heavily censored, in fact I only ever saw off-hoof references in unrelated texts, or books sufficiently well-guarded to avoid the censor’s eye. But, there are patterns. It has affected enough events that its censoring leaves a shadow, a shadow deep enough to show events blacked out of history books and periodicals roughly every hundred years. It leaves a ripple, and you can see that in other places... marriage announcements between noble families, financial market performance, actuarial archives, all sorts of places. You can tell which regions didn’t take part, which families died out or were absorbed into others shortly after, and importantly, which families and associated factions suddenly gained unprecedented thaumaturgical capabilities. Also, references to the Grail War are a category three subversion within the Seer Council, along with a thousand other things. Council decree is to destroy any category three subversions, but not to interrogate and purify connected individuals. This implies that it is a well-known secret among noble magical houses.”
Sunset Shimmer beamed at her. “That’s excellent. I’ll fill in the gaps for you: the Grail is a powerful magical artifact, several millennia old, that allows the construction and execution of limited wishes. It chooses five powerful spellcasters to channel its energies correctly, but will only grant a single wish. The five spellcasters—the Masters—must compete, and the Grail summons Servants to do battle as proxies for the mages. There are five categories of servant: Archer, Saber, Caster, Lancer, and Assassin. Each Servant is a powerful hero, drawing off the life-force of their Master to materialize and act. Opponents are defeated through the death or complete capitulation of Master and Servant.
“The next Grail War will begin in three years time. Fancy Pants, the Chancellor of the Treasury, will be overseeing it—he will ensure that the rules are adhered to, that the secrecy of the Grail War is preserved, and arrange safe havens for defeated Masters. As a captain of the Royal Guard, Shining Armor has two roles: he will act as an enforcer for Fancy Pants to maintain neutrality, and he will keep the civilian population away from the worst of the violence,” said Sunset. “And naturally, I will be one of the Masters.”
“I see,” said Twilight. “I assume I will be working with Sunset from now on?”
“Kinda,” said Shining Armor. “You’re going to be allies.”
“Allies? You mean—”
Sunset nodded. “You will also be a Master. You’re right-hoofed, aren’t you? Show me your right hoof.”
Twilight sat up straight on the bench, and presented her hoof. A dark-red sigil wove around it. Sunset Shimmer pulled her own sleeve back to reveal a similar sigil.
Shining Armor stood up, and put a hoof on Twilight’s withers. “See, the Canterlot Academy and Sunset Shimmer are, for lack of a better word, trustworthy. The noble houses in the Enclaves are too petty and vengeful to be trusted with something like the Grail, House Blueblood are barely strong enough to field a Master let alone defeat four others, and the less said about those outside of Canterlot, the better.”
“Yes,” said Sunset Shimmer, “normally I would not work alongside another Master, and normally I would represent my family, House Sunblaze, not the Canterlot Academy. Normally, your brother wouldn’t lower himself to join the internecine squabbles of the magical houses, and normally an archmage like myself would not lower myself to ask for his help. But this time, things are different. After decades—centuries—of research, we almost have a true outlet for the Grail’s power.”
“Oh?”
“We’re going to bring back the Royal Pony Sisters.”
* * *
Applejack had not seen this room in a very long time. The rug, the roaring fireplace, the warped oak floorboards, framed photographs on the mantelpiece that were black mirrors in the night’s dark, they were all still here. Still too lingered the smell of dog hair and cinnamon and antiseptic. And beside the fireplace, the old mare sitting in her rocking chair as if she was built into it, or perhaps if it was built over her, a mere extension of her will. The mare looked no older than the last time Applejack had seen her, and Applejack knew she would be no less dangerous. She steeled herself for what she was about to do.
As Applejack’s hoof touched the floorboards, a creak sounded out. The old mare jolted in her chair as if the room itself was wired into her nervous system. Her beady, golden eyes cracked open, and she looked at the interloper.
“Well, lookie-here, the prodigal daughter done returned,” rasped the old mare. “Now, maybe my memory is playing tricks on me, but I seem to remember you saying that iffin’ you ever came back here, you’d be putting me in the ground...”
With those words, a hundred circles and wards glowed around the room. The wooden floorboards warped and seemed to take root within one another, the lights drained off into strange will-o-wisps, and the room crackled with power, all centered around the ancient mare in her rocking chair.
The whole power of the Apple clan—nay, the whole power of Ponyville and beyond—rose up and splayed out, eager to obey the old mare’s every command. There were no old smells of home now, the room crackled with ozone and the damp reek of earth magic. The weight of the magic was such that careful spellcasting was unnecessary; the old mare could likely crush a pony’s skull with a thought.
Applejack just rolled her eyes. “Grammaw, that was when I was ten. And I came back when I was eleven, for the Summer Sun Celebration with auntie and uncle, and nopony killed anypony.”
The magic in the room faded away, as if embarrassed, but the old mare glared at her. “Don’t you go callin’ me grammaw like yer’ still on the teat! Yer’ in my dang house, so give me some respect.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand.”
“An’ don’t give me none of that fancy Manehattan speechifying neither, y’hear? Talk like you was raised.”
Applejack sighed loudly. “Yes’m, Granny Smith.”
“Good! Now, s’matter fact I do remember you changin’ yer mind on the whole subject of killin’ me. I also remember that a year or two after that, you stopped learning the family magic so you could go gallavantin’ off with that furrin’ hussy, tryin’ to ‘find out the secrets of the earth’ or somesuch nonsense. Well? Y’all find something?”
“I know about the land now, Granny. I understand how to save it.”
Granny Smith scowled at her grandchild. “Well shoot, I could’ve tole you that! I tole you that when yer’d barely been hunting bounties a year. That was a dozen-odd years ago!”
“But I had to understand, Granny,” said Applejack, exasperatedly. “If I don’t understand it, the magic won’t work right!”
Granny Smith huffed and shook her head. “It warms my heart to hear that some of my wisdom will soak through yer thick skull, if the whole dang world conspires to beat you over the head with it for a decade. Now, I am going to assume that you did not trek all the way back to Ponyville just to tell your dear ole’ grammaw that she was right all along. You done found something else.”
“Yes’m, in a manner of speakin’.” Applejack smiled wryly, walked over to her grandmother, and presented her right forehoof. The moment Granny Smith’s eyes caught hint of the blood-red sigil, she grabbed that hoof between both of hers and turned it over, scrutinizing it carefully.
Both ponies were silent for several moments.
Granny Smith whooped and cackled and leaned back in her chair, legs kicking in the air. “Well I’ll be! A gen-u-ine, honest-to-dirt Command Spell. I didn’t know you had it in you, Applejack, in fact, I was a week away from cutting my losses and sticking lil’ Apple Bloom in the Giving Tree.”
Applejack just nodded, her smile going nowhere. The elder mare seemed annoyed by the lack of a reaction.
“Did y’all not just hear what I said? I said I was a week away from sticking Apple Bloom in the Giving Tree.”
“I heard jes’ fine, Granny. Do it anyway.”
Granny Smith’s eyebrows shot up. Her ghostly eyes seemed to glow a little darker, and she either laughed or coughed. “You want me to put Apple Bloom in the Tree? You want that? Did you just plum forget what the Tree is like?”
“No’m.”
“I remember exactly how much you screamed and cried when the bark first closed over your skin. You squealed like a stuck pig when the tendrils stripped your flesh and dug into your eyes, and even when the tree filled your lungs with sap you shook like you were tryin’ to knock the dang thing down. I don’t recall a day I walked past the Tree when you weren't sobbin’ away like a newborn inside it.”
“Yes’m.”
“An’ even when it was done, even after it gave you the wonderful gift of magic, you said my name like a cuss and ran away for years. You couldn’t handle the Tree for a month, and now you think yer lil’ sis should do it properly?”
Applejack snorted. “The Giving Tree weren’t the most painful thing I’ve ever done by a mile. Weren’t even the most painful thing I’ve ever done to get better at magic. ‘Sides, the Giving Tree ain’t one of a kind, and it ain’t the only one I’ve used.”
Granny Smith grinned horribly at her. “And now yer throwin’ Apple Bloom to the wolves outta spite. Hunting bounties seems to’ve done a number on yer black lil’ heart. I always thought you needed toughening up.”
“‘Throwing to the wolves’ nothin’, Granny. I wouldn’t put Bloom through this if I didn’t have dang good reasons for it.”
“And what’s those reasons, pray tell?”
“The first,” said Applejack, “Is that if I fall in this Grail War, the Apple family will need some real powerful magics for the next one. Mac don’t have the gift, so that falls on Apple Bloom whether we like it or not. And for yer own edification, Granny, I do not like it. I jes’ know that it’s necessary.”
Granny Smith considered this for a moment, smoke softly rising from her nostrils, and then nodded. “And what else?”
Applejack’s face hardened. “Apple Bloom is an Apple. Apples are tough.”
For Scarlet 
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Holy crap, that was a trip. This is the kind of story I think I'll need to come back to a few times before I get all the nuances. The different scenes dovetailed nicely, and the language used managed to set the apocalyptic mood without veering into cliche territory (for example, the "He had seen X [seasons]" is used a lot, but here you used it to segue into a world-building paragraph, which I haven't seen before). This is a fic even someone who has no idea what's being crossed over can enjoy
33.media.tumblr.com/ad8cae369e667b4819de651ca245152c/tumblr_mvylsvXyDl1skc54wo4_500.gif
5443236
...that gif is hypnotic
5443244
I hear the coconuts as I read.
I'm not familiar with the crossover, but this looks quite interesting on its own merits.
5443561
That's what I'm aiming for
A strong start. It's obvious conditions are different for our favorite ponies in this timeline, what with Rarity and Blueblood being borderline lovers, Applejack estranged from her family, and Twilight being robotic and soldier-like. But at the same time, they still feel like their old selves: it's like trying a different flavor of the same brand you're used to. The Cherry Coke to the show's Coca-Cola. I like it.
As for the writing, it doesn't quite flow as naturally as some of your other stories. Take this moment for example:
This has Talking Head Syndrome all over it. Simple mistake, but easy to fix:
I hope this shapes up to be an amazing work. So much love has been given to it, and therefore to us the readers, and I want to see the climactic finish of this mad little contest.
5443910
Thanks! Some characters have changed more than others, generally as a result of a vastly different upbringing. 'Duke' Blueblood is everyone's second-favorite prince if he had to handle some actual responsibility in his life. Rather than being a nihilistic hedonist, he's desperate to live up to the heroic goals he sets himself. Sunset Shimmer is a magical prodigy with all of her academic interest, no guidance from Celestia, and a real outlet for her ambitions. Shining Armor is Shining Armor with a 2000% higher crime rate in his city and a drinking problem. The Apple clan turned to earth magic to save their land, and paid certain prices, so Applejack has a fairly wacky family. As for Twilight Sparkle... this is a world without a Rainboom. She turned out strange.
Ehh. No point adding additional tagging to the dialogue, as long as it's clear who's speaking. There might be pacing issues, but they can't be solved through adding ornamentation around the speech marks.
5443910
Grrrgh. Snarl. **bites claw** **fails saving throw, engages**
I'm gonna have to write a blog post about why avoiding "talking head syndrome" itself leads to bad writing, in the same way that people misapplying "Show, Don't Tell" end up with torturously tortuous prose. I read through the original dialogue without wincing, but this:
> Twilight paused, becoming a statue for a few seconds before she finally drew a breath.
… takes 15 words to tell you the exact same thing in three different ways.
A bare "Twilight paused" would probably be unobjectionable, and might be a modest improvement — except that it contradicts the quote. Is an explosive "What!" on the heels of a harsh piece of dialogue really so subtle that you can't picture the immediacy of Twilight's reaction?
Flinching so hard from "the ironclad rules of writing" that you overcorrect and fail in the other direction is a bad habit that takes many writers far too long to break.
5444019
~this is stuff i'd say except i explain stuff like a stoned Justin Long.
A fate crossover
can't wait to see the servents
I'm not familiar with the source material, but I'm sure you'll do it justice, Chuck. Just don't forget your other projects.
On a side note, I love the idea of wishes as the driving force behind a story's conflict. I had an idea for a story once (an FO:E fic, but whatevs), about a team of five ponies who discovered a megaspell capable of granting a single wish, but in order for it to work, two ponies had to agree on the wish. The meat of the story would be the dynamic between them as they attempted to get home with their prize.
Somehow that turned into my Skyrim crossover, which only resembled it in that a wish spell was the central MacGuffin. Huh.
Anyway, keep up the writing. It's great to see you back in my feed so often.
Huh, only five master/servant pairs? Berserker and Rider feel left out...
This AU looks to be...depressing, but it should be an interesting take on Equestria if certain events hadn't happened. There is a special place in my heart for settings where 'hope' is a concept people laugh at.
And Granny Smith's our Zouken expo...not sure if I should be laughing or bracing myself for what is to come.
5446627
Oh ye of little faith...
5446641 OH, now I think I see your game you crafty devil...
5446627
Granny Zouken was actually Chuck's idea, even if he credits me with characterization in this. And it is awesome. (Also, not entirely intentional if I remember right- we just noticed about halfway through the material we've got in backlog that she turned out to basically be the Zouken expy.)
Pity about the change of voice actors for Saber. I wonder if they'll be releasing a version of the visual novel with Saber's voice redone?
Goddamn, the Apple family is the pony Matou equivalent? Holy mother of god, that's horrifying. I really can't swear enough to convey how horrifying that is. Poor Applebloom.
I would imagine Twilight getting Star Swirl if she performs the ritual without a relic to direct the Grail's choice... but she's already a great mage (although looking at Blueblood and Rarity, it looks like the standards for magic are a bit... low). While she would reach amazing levels of power and knowledge if she had the legend there himself to teach her, from a strategic viewpoint it would be better for her to get a more physical Servant to protect her while she focuses on her spells. However, her cold, robotic behavior is worrying. Hopefully she gets a Servant who could wear away at that.
And pardon my ignorance, but what does 'EIS' stand for?
Well, Rider would be a little difficult for ponies, and I can easily understand why the ponies behind the war would want to avoid a class with as many downsides as Berserker. Although somepony screwing around with the Grail to summon a 6th Servant is a big possibility.
Star Swirl is an obvious choice for Caster, but then again so is Clover. Either could have other skills enough to fit into another class (I recall in particular Mr. anything-but-Caster Heracles. Starswirl is pretty much the best non-alicorn magician we know of, so putting him in Caster might be as game-breakingly overpowered as Berserker Heracles (I'd name Gilgamesh, but... frankly, I don't think it matters much what class he would have been. As long as he possess the Gate of Babylon and Ea, he's broke as shit). Then again, between the pegasi weather-working and the demonstration of earth pony magic, unicorns aren't the only ones who would qualify for Caster.
Shooting magic lasers might be enough to count for Archer's ranged combat, which opens up... well, pretty much any unicorn for the position.
Sombra would likely fit as Caster or Assassin... he's sorta-almost dead, and if the world is screwed over by Celestia's death enough he might have died for real.
Princess Platinum... we don't know enough, but she may fit as Saber (if unicorn nobility got the same education Europeans did) or (if going by my favorite fanfic of Equestrian history) Assassin.
Commander Hurricane is most likely Saber, Lancer, or Archer. Pansy... we just don't know enough about to make a statement over, but she was still military. The same goes for all the historic Wonderbolts we got to see. We know the Wonderbolts can cut things with their wings--is that enough to count as Saber?
I'd stick Puddinghead in Assassin, because I really can't think of any the whacko would actually fit in. Smart Cookie... don't know enough.
We have no idea if Scorpan is alive or not, so nothing there... if the Olden Pony or Headless Horse ever actually existed, even if not the way folklore remembers them, they could still be summoned.
The Holy Grail cannot summon full-fledged divinities. I'm not certain if alicorns are gods here, but I think it is close enough that the Holy Grail would not call forth Celestia. She has the benefit of being amazingly old and having the longest and most famed legend--even if she weren't an alicorn, that alone would put her above other Servants (at least, if you follow the same "that which is closest to the Origin is a superior existence" rule of the Nasuverse). But also in Equestria, her own nation, the seat of her power, and where she is most famed? That gives another serious stat boost.
Of course, this is all under the assumption that you're using established figures from known history.
Would I be correct in assuming that the Holy Grail presented here lacks the pony-equivalent to the taint of Angra Mainyu? That would cross out Sombra, in that case.
5443910
"Talking Head Syndrome" is very much a matter of personal opinion. A lot of story-writing advice from authors promotes it, as with properly-written characters you shouldn't need a name attached to every (or every other) snippet of dialogue. There wasn't any confusion here.
Obviously, overuse of this is bad--some descriptors are just needed--but until that point it isn't a flaw in his writing.
I don't like this "Seer Council". You know who I do like? This Blueblood... Polaris, I'll call him. I also like Sunset and Twilight. This Apple Family outright terrifies me!
What happened to Celestia?
Alright, so five Servants, five official factions. That leaves 2 Servants. The Apple family seems likely to take one... So who gets the other?
5447305
just FYI, and I'm still trying to decide if it's worth it to essentially publish notes and data entries we can't make part of the fic proper for space/silly reasons under the pretext of an El-Melloi-esque failure of a Canterlot noble's history of magical clans and groups so this may get fleshed out more later someday? My headcanon as Chuck and I drafted the ideas that went into these first few chapters was that the Equestrian Grail is less like the Great Grail of Fuyuki's wars and more like the Moon Cell from Fate/Extra. It has different scopes and limits as to what it's 'able' to summon from the outset, regardless of 'taint'.
Though like the Moon Cell, that also doesn't mean it's completely immune from being monkeyed around with.
Ooh Fate/Zero was an excellent choice for crossover! Especially with people not familiar with the franchise. Though I'm intrigued about how summoning is going to work if it's based off Fate/Extra, since I haven't played it.
I still recall with fondness how well you captured the spirit of Burn Notice in your other crossover. I can't wait to see how you handle the clashing themes that MLP, Nasu, and Urobuchi embed into their works. I'm already enjoying what little we have about the characters shaped in a world after Celestia's "passing".
Apple family as a powerful and thriving Matou clan. People are talking about Granny being scary but she appears much more put together than Zouken. A Zouken who had not forgotten why he pursued the Grail. I imagine we'll be hearing about Granny's experience in the previous war eventually.
Twilight from an intelligence agency? I'm worried, Chuck. I'm not sure I can handle Twilight as a Kotomine Kirei expy. Then again, an interpretation of Kirei as someone capable of redemption would be awesome
... I think I have a running theme here of assuming that you're using MLP to show a lighter shade of Fate/Zero. I'd better keep reading instead of making an ass of myself.
Commence read.
Interesting start.
5446641 That answers that question.
Interesting to see whom is being represented by whom.