Or Maybe All it Does is Forment All Manner of Fankles
The first voice to interject itself past the rasp of the opening portal was Rex’s. “Vánagandr’s priapic … who else is there?”
“The Dactylian and Ceratos contingents, I believe,” said Fairy Floss, as the portal ceased rasping and instead began trilling the opening bars from Beethoofen’s fifth symphony. “How delightful; we so rarely get the chance to meet them in person. I imagine their knowledge and insight will be every bit as useful as our own.”
The old ewe’s voice was calm, if suffused with a certain tetchiness. Burro could only imagine how badly recent events had rattled her if chinks were starting to appear in her armour. Depths knew he didn’t feel especially at grips with it all himself.
The first thing to have hit him as the portal splintered its way open was an ever-escalating unease. He’d started all this out of his depth, and was now about to share these same depths with an unknown number of angry sharks. The Asinial Republic’s Merchant Fleet, wonderful and forceful a tool of international diplomacy though it may be, wasn’t the sort of thing that tended to make one friends in the usage.
The second thing to hit Burro was a stallion in silk livery, who came hurtling out of the portal and knocked the old jack off his hooves, sending them both to the cage floor in a bone-jarring flurry of flailing limbs, yelps and monosyllabic oaths.
“Gah!” Burro reflexively slammed a hoof into the stallion and sent him sprawling backwards with a pained whicker. “Get off!”
“Arrgh!” retorted the stallion, a tall brown-coated earth pony, silk vestments flying wild around him. He struggled to his hooves and regarded the gathered company with some consternation. “What the deuce just -? Celestia? What’s going on?”
“At ease, Viceroy Simoom,” Celestia said, her clear voice managing, as always, to dampen down any more bewildered invective that could have come spilling forth. “There’s an explanation behind whatever’s just befallen you, and I assure-”
“Is there? Really? My word,” the Crown said under its breath.
“- Assure you that it will all be resolved in short order.” A hint of steel entered Celestia’s tone. Just a hint.
The stallion, Simoom, looked vaguely reassured. “Well,” he said. “Well, that’s good. That’s jolly good. I was rather wondering what that rainbow-coloured haboob hitting Tabuck and spraying confetti everywhere was in aid of. I take it that sort of thing’s not just happening in Saddle Arabia?”
The Cormaer chuckled briefly. “Aye. Ye could say that.”
Simoom’s gaze swept to her, and then to each of the others in turn. Nothing slipped in the expression of befuddled amiability he sported. The effect was only slightly undermined by the embroidered images on his silk saddle and halter becoming animated and throwing rude faces and ruder gestures at everyone present. “Oh, well,” he said. “At least we’re not alone in this whole silliness. I’m sure we can get it all cleared up in short order.” His smile brightened. “I say, are the rest of you rather important as well?”
A moment’s silence held before the Fire Queen broke it. “If we’re in here long enough, we eat this one first.”
“Gracious, a little dragon?” Simoom leaned down on his forehooves to regard the Fire Queen eye-to-eye, his expression delighted and curious. “You’re an adorable little specimen, if I may say so.”
“From the hooves up,” growled the Fire Queen.
The Capricious Crown had spent a few moments in studious silence, the jewels at its depths holding a steady blue glimmer. “Viceroy Simoom of the Viceroyalty of Saddle Arabia, an island dominion of Equestria’s off Dactylia’s north coast,” it said suddenly. “Independent in all but name, of course.”
“That’s the place. Have you ever been there?” said Simoom.
“A recorded population of just under sixty thousand, not counting itinerant traders,” the Crown continued relentlessly. “Chief exports of unrefined natural pitch, glasswork, and tourists with newly-acquired sunburns. A standing army of two.”
“I’ll tell Dune and Sun Spot you mentioned them. They got these spiffy new uniforms just last week, and they’re very keen to do their pa-”
“Thank you, we’ve established your fantastical irrelevance. Be quiet while the big people are talking.” The Crown’s attention turned back to Celestia. “What are you hoping to achieve by dithering, Celestia? Do you think any nation further away from the heart of the action is going to make anything like a useful contribution? The only powers whose opinions are worth anything are in this cage right now. Perhaps they should start putting their heads together right now.”
“Any plan we concoct while Discord is likely to return at any moment is doomed to failure. He has already negated one of my countermeasures; he will not hesitate to tear apart any other he finds out about. This is not the time for risk-taking.” Celestia’s eyes had narrowed, and her jaw had tightened.
“Then at least tell us what you, in your ever-so-gracious wisdom, think we ought to know about Discord. Where did he come from? Why is he now active? How can we have him strapped down and screaming by the day’s end?”
“We don’t need to be stuck in endless dreary repetitions of the same essentials. I’ll speak on the matter when everyone is here and equally able to discuss and contribute.”
“Why? Why bother to have them in the loop? Who here cares about Dactylia or anywhere else’s offerings?”
The cowed-looking Simoom ventured, “I care what -”
“Be silent, you bleating speck.”
“Enough.” Celestia’s voice was pure steel now, cold and cutting. She looked to one side, out towards the open sky and the rolling landscape of Equestria. Sections of the ground had split off and were floating around in the sky, idly ramming into one another. Distant specks huddled at their centres. Canterlot drifted helplessly through it all, kicking its stony legs futilely and cursing a blue streak.
Celestia’s expression was as cold and empty as the night sky. “I will not be gainsaid. I will not be lectured on the necessity of haste.”
“Gwuurgh?” Something that was half-bellow, half-groan, and all discombobulation came from where Greenhorn lay, diverting all attention. The auroch’s eyes fluttered open past his helmet’s visor and one hoof pawed at the ground, as if trying to heave him up. “What ju - ugh.”
“On your hooves, lad. You’ve had a nasty and spatially-confused fall.” Gellert padded over and extended a claw, helping Greenhorn totter upright. The weight of his armour should have unbalanced him, but Greenhorn didn’t even seem to notice it. His gaze swept blearily around the cage.
“I - I was fighting a creature. Something that came slithering up between the cobblestones of Cromlech Taur and wreaked .... havoc in the city.”
“That’s something of a common theme this day, dear.” Fairy Floss reached out and, straining, just about managed to pat his upper foreleg. “You’ll acclimatise. Maybe.”
“And … and now I’m sharing … mid-air? A cage in mid-air with all of you. Why? What’s the logical connector between these two?”
“The same creature, Discord, put you here,” Burro said. “He has his own designs on the world. Celestia has promised a full accounting of him once everyone he’s likely to similarly imprison has arrived.”
“I wouldn’t make a habit of asking any question reliant on logic today, though,” said the Fire Queen acidly. “Logic is fast approaching a vegetative state, and I imagine it’ll soon be put out of its misery, poor thing.”
Greenhorn looked around to find the source of her voice, and eventually looked down. “You’re … ah ...”
“Finish that appraisal in a non-asinine manner. Go on. Try it.” The Fire Queen’s tone tried for ‘growl’, but fell short to fall within the realms of ‘modulated squeak’.
“‘Asinine’,” said Burro dryly. “Excellent. We’re delving into the realm of specist slurs already, are we?”
“Now is not the time to quibble about etymology, you upjumped -”
Greenhorn’s gaze swept on, alighting on the Cormaer. He stood stock-still, and a reddish tinge once again entered his narrowing eyes. The Cormaer met his look and smirked.
“Kindly explain,” began Greenhorn, his voice calm and measured. “Why is one of their pestilential kind here?”
“Corva has its Eighth Cormaer, lang may she reign in beauty and wisdom.” The Cormaer’s eyes glittered darkly. “Did ye no get the invitation tae the festivities?”
“Both of you will kindly step away from each other,” Celestia interjected at that moment. “We will have harmony and common accord at this meeting, if nowhere else.”
“Ye hear that, kye? Play nice.”
“You do not share common accord with calf-eating savages.” Greenhorn’s calmness was evaporating like morning mist. “You do not let the eastern scourge fester and grow unchallenged!” He took a step forwards, and red-tinted magic glimmered up the sweep of his horns. “You cut it down where it stands!”
“Caw canny, wee kye, or I’ll send ye screamin’ tae yer ancestors.” The Cormaer’s smirk had become purely malevolent. Her wings twitched, her steel claws tapped against the cage floor, dark blue magic tendrils coiled around her pinions. “Though at least ye wouldnae be the first Bullwalda sent that way by a Cormaer’s claws -”
“Enough.”
Golden magic, briefly flaring brighter than the sun, seized hold of both Greenhorn and the Cormaer. They vanished with flashes of light and reappeared at opposite ends of the cage. A white alicorn strode forwards to stand in the space between them.
“Let us act as though we’re all sensible and self-preserving grown-up beings,” said Princess Celestia. “As though we share a common enemy this day, who poses an existential threat to all we hold dear, and who may only be stopped by our joined effort now. Shall we act as such? There would be nothing to envy about the alternative.”
She stood and turned her head to stare down both the Cormaer and Greenhorn in turn. They shrunk back, and all others there took an involuntary step backwards. Burro couldn’t help but feel the urge to avert his own gaze. There were a few things he’d managed to avoid over the course of his life, and, winds guard him, Celestia in a true and proper temper would continue to be one of them.
He’d spend the rest of this session being the nicest and most supportive ally she could wish for. That seemed only sensible.
Finding no challenge, Celestia turned and started to trot back to where she’d been standing. It was then, of course, that the portal exploded open again, right before her face. She jumped back, too slowly to avoid the two zebras that came spilling out from it. She wobbled only slightly as they bounced off her front and fell to the floor in a cursing heap.
“So tricky to decide between the two,” came Discord’s airy voice. “I doubt even they know who’s in charge of their own country. The next one might be even more of a challenge. Bear with me!” The voice vanished, and the assembled company was left to regard the two zebras. They snarled and recoiled away from one another, struggling to their own hooves.
“What in the name of all that - Celestia? What’s going on?” demanded one of them, a slender stallion in ornamental bronze-coloured barding over midnight-blue robes. His monochrome mane and coat were neatly styled, if somewhat ruffled from recent mishandling.
“Excuse you, but being the lawful Pharoah of Zebrica, I’ll do the talking.” The other was more heavily built, disheveled, and his iron barding was more practical and decidedly more battered. “Celestia, what’s going on?”
Burro clocked each one as they spoke. Punda and Milia, the two grasping sons of the long-passed Zebrican Pharoah. Twins at birth, because the Creator just sometimes liked to be an outright sadist.
“A creature of elemental chaos, Discord, has broken loose of his captivity and is bent on destroying all harmony in the world,” Celestia began. “So far, this has entailed -”
“Ahem,” said Punda, the slender one in robes, “Lawful Pharoah? Grand talk from somepony who cannot even hold onto Whickhen or Trotenu.”
“Ah. You can pass judgement, because you’re doing such a grand job of holding onto Marephis,” replied the sturdily-built Milia, whose grin came past gritted teeth. “Thank you for leaving the Black Crown there, by the way. It looks lovely against my complexion.”
Punda glowered. “How lovely for you. A pity you don’t have the White Crown to go along with it. Otherwise, well, it’ll just be useless to you, all things considered.”
Burro couldn’t help but recall some of the confidential missives he’d received over the course of the four-years-running War of the Zebrican Inheritance. The first had been from the princes themselves, bargaining for aid in exchange for consideration paid to Asinial interests before and after a victory. Those had petered out around the second year, and others had come from associated parties. The latest had been from the Lord Mayor of Abitdos. “Just assassinate one of them already, whichever you like” it had read. “Assassinate both of them, why not. We are past caring. This ‘republic’ notion intrigues us and we wish to learn more.”
“By all means, keep on denying me my birthright,” growled Milia. “One of these days, you’ll acknowledge that Father clearly favoured me before his -”
“And one day, you’ll become cognizant of basic maths and how time works, and realise I’m the first-born. Remind me where that puts me in the line of succession.”
“You call three minutes a mandate?”
Golden loops of light descended around their muzzles and tightened fast, muffling whatever retorts might have followed. Punda and Milia slowly turned to face Celestia, their expressions of startled outrage turning nigh-instantly into confused wariness.
“I’ve already spoken to the others about the necessity of focusing on our common enemy at this time,” she said calmly. “Shall I repeat it, or assume that you two can pick up the implications?”
After a moment’s hesitation, the two grudgingly nodded. The golden loops dissipated, and they took unsteady steps back. Celestia regarded them both with a faintly disappointed expression. “Honestly,” she said, “You were much more pleasant to each other when you were foals. Some of us remember.”
Milia glowered, and Punda opened his mouth. Celestia cut him off as she sharply turned to address the rest of the gathering. “Regardless, we do now have an opening. Discord said that collecting the next would take him a while, and I have reason to believe him. I intend to enact a few of my own contingencies. If anyone else has anything they can do, let it be known and let it be done.”
Burro wearily contemplated his own contingency of the Merchant Fleet’s firepower, now probably gradually accumulating in the belly of a ship-kraken. Maybe it would be worthwhile looking into how exactly to become an alicorn princess himself. But that could come later. “What exactly are your contingencies?” he asked instead.
Celestia’s saddlebag opened smoothly, and before Burro could even blink, a golden blade flourished from its depths, held securely by the glow of the alicorn’s magic. It was long, straight, and hiltless, intended for magical wielding alone. The dull sheen around all its edges betrayed a wicked edge, and a faint distortion in how the light caught it betrayed magical enchantment. Burro couldn’t guess at what type, though.
There was an intake of breath from Greenhorn, whose mood brightened upon seeing the blade. He leaned closer to see it, an action mirrored by the admiring Cormaer. “Now there’s a beauty,” he murmured. “Does she have a name?”
“It was known as the Sun Blade even before I acquired it - which, naturally, I had to do,” said Celestia, giving it an experimental swish through the air. “Older than anyone else here - perhaps older than all of us combined. A relic of Antlertis from before its Fall. I’ve little idea what it can fully do, or even if it can do anything against Discord, and my scope for putting it to proper use may be limited. Luna and Cadance might appreciate it, however.”
“The other princesses?” said Milia.
“We discuss these sorts of situations between ourselves. Cadance, lovely as she is, has a marvellously morbid talent for predicting the worst possible outcome of any event and proposing ways to counteract it.” Celestia smiled faintly to herself and jabbed the blade experimentally at the cage wall. The wall flashed, and it almost seemed to Burro that it might have been breached - but the flash faded, and the wall was unmarred. “They should have gone to ground, to evade Discord’s notice and to maintain whatever patches of order they can. If I can teleport the Sun Blade to a safe spot and they find it … well, that may just be to our advantage.”
“Can you teleport it out?” asked Fairy Floss, one brow raised.
“That … rather remains to be seen. The warding on this prison prevents us teleporting ourselves. But the magic of chaos is a scattershot affair, riddled with loopholes ...” Golden magic gathered thick around Celestia’s horn and unleashed itself on the Sun Blade. There was a blinding flash, and Burro’s eyes issued yet another fruitless protest.
He blinked away the aftereffect, and the Sun Blade remained in the cage, the pink sides shimmering. A faint and toneless chuckling came from all around them.
Celestia’s expression was drawn and cold as she regarded the blade; her voice was controlled and mild. “Well. He is apparently determined to not repeat the mistakes of last time.”
“Last time?” The Cormaer cocked her head.
“A story for later. Many stories over a great while a very long time ago, in fact. No matter.” Celestia breathed out heavily. “This annuls several of my other plans, but I have several more that don’t depend on it. The hatchling from the egg you generously granted me happens to be in a useful position, Fire Queen.”
“The ha-? Oh.” The Fire Queen smiled sharply. It brought out dimples. “Ensorcelled fire’s one of these handy things, is it not? I’m glad the little thing’s been of doughty service.”
“Indeed. Passage by fire circumvents many of teleportation’s usual rules. Transformation and passage via the essence of flame itself, rather than the arcane aether, may be a route Discord has failed to consider.” From her saddlebag, there rose a stack of papers. Burro glanced at them - a large stack of single-page notes, largely hoofwritten and in letter format. The fine details eluded him as they swept over to before Celestia’s nose.
“And what’s this, pray tell?” The Crown’s jewels produced a faint green flicker.
“One of my contingencies for Discord’s return has already … been thwarted.” Celestia glanced down the first of the letters, and a soft, sad smile fell across her features. “These could yet reignite it.”
Without any warning, gold-hued fire flickered at the letter’s base and rapidly grew to consume it all. It split apart into shimmering green-and-gold sparks rather than ash, which in turn spiralled off through the air. Celestia held her breath as she watched them, and breathed out again when they passed through the cage’s wall. Her customary subtle smile returned briefly to her features, and it seemed like an age since Burro had last seen it.
“And now we continue on like that,” she said absently to herself. A second letter was sent away in fire, mere seconds after the first. The rest regarded her.
“Something occurs,” said the Crown suddenly.
“Whit would that be?” said the Cormaer.
“Discord’s been taking a long time in acquiring the next ruler. He hasn’t taken this stretch of time thus far -”
Before them, at one end of the cage, a small white oval flashed into existence and started to grow. Celestia swept the papers into her saddlebag.
“Do us all a favour,” said Gellert wearily, “Kindly don’t tempt the universe.”
“Wait,” said Burro. Something bad had just occurred. “Wait, wait. If he’s working his way south down Dactylia, then the next port of call would be Gazellen, wouldn’t it? It swallows up everywhere from the coast to the Dactylian Interior for over a thousand miles.”
“Yes. Why?”
“Gazellen?” said Burro. “The Serene Confederation? The union of the dozens of little nations and kingdoms that pop up over there? It doesn’t have a ruler. It just rotates between the nations for a First Speaker!”
“Wait, so who would Discord bri-”
Burro couldn’t explain how he knew the Crown’s nonexistent eyes widened with realisation. He just knew.
“Get back!” said Fairy Floss, much too late. The portal finished widening, and through the white glow tumbled…
Tumbled…
Burro’s brain gave up on trying to assign a succinct description.
A horde of mismatched, body-swapped, chittering, yelping, swearing delegates tumbled through the portal in their droves, falling into a vast and flailing heap that gradually spread across the cage floor towards them. Burro tried to make sense of the medley of body parts and faces and other sundry things that flashed before his vision. None of it seemed to even remotely match.
One figure struggled to bull their way out from the crowd and make themselves known, even as the heap grew behind them. “What in the Creator’s name is going on!?” shouted someone who might have been the Emir of Al-Antelus. Except the antelope Emir didn’t have the disproportionately small legs of a warthog. Or the wings of a griffon. Or a certain deficiency of horns.
“Beg yer pardon, but whit am I looking at?” hissed the Cormaer, who was awkwardly hopping backwards alongside Burro. “Whit’s this stramash?”
“The Gazellen delegates, it would look like,” said Burro, his mouth working serenely and without any conscious effort from his brain, which was preoccupied with internally screaming.
“Such a stroke of luck, getting them all in their congress like that,” said Discord, poking his head through the portal as the last of Gazellen’s delegates tumbled through the opening. “They were dreadfully unaccommodating when I tried to explain the situation to them, alas, but what can you do?”
“Explain? You waltzed in out of the blue and took my body away! That’s not an explanation! What even are you?” The protest came from one delegate, whose long giraffe neck swayed precariously up from the lean frame of a Diamond Jackal. A laurel wreath flopped off one of her ossicones.
“It’s like an explanation.” Discord waved his paw dismissively. “Honestly, some beings get so persnickety about exact definitions and fail to grasp the advantages of their new position. Like having the Diamond Jackal alpha’s legs.”
“Those aren’t even slightly an advantage!”
“Charming,” muttered a jackal-headed figure at one side, with the front body of a gazelle and the striped backside of an okapi. “There goes thine special diplomatic consideration, then.”
“You know what I mean!”
“Oh, there’s no pleasing some ingrates,” said Discord sorrowfully, wiping ostentatiously at one dry cheek. “Here I am, putting in all this hard labour solely on your behalf, and what thanks do I get? None, I tell you -”
“Sacred skies, it jabbers on like one of the bipedal apes you find in the Interior forests. All they do is screech and try to show off their advancements in tool-using and theoretical mathematics to you.” This came from a warthog delegate, whose tusks had been replaced with an elegant pair of curving antlers, and whose legs had been awkwardly replaced with that of the giraffe’s. He tottered awkwardly as he glowered at Discord. “Tell us what you want or simply depart!”
Discord considered the demand. “Very well, I’ll depart,” he said blithely. “Just a couple left until I have the full set, anyway. Tally-ho!” He slipped back through the portal, and was gone in an eye’s blink.
“Wha - no! Tell us what you want! Tell us what you want!” The warthog delegate took one step towards the vanished portal before toppling over onto several other Gazellens. A chorus of cursing followed.
The delegates who had recovered their faculties with varying degrees of success turned towards the long-standing gathering. As one, they opened their mouths to speak. “Princess Celestia? What’s going -”
“Do me a favour,” said Celestia in a low murmur, leaning down to Burro’s ear. “Get the others and help distribute the ‘spirit of chaos, etc,’ spiel among the Gazellen delegates, and promise them my fuller account in due time. I intend to send off letters. As many as I can.” She looked out past the cage wall, where chunks of Equestria mingled with the darkening sky, suffused pink with the magic of chaos. “While we still have time.”
It was a flurry of hoof-pointing, accusations, and fevered hissing. It took every scrap of learned wheedling, veiled threats, and whatever other tools Burro had in his diplomatic repertoire to get the Ungulan contingent, Simoom and Zebrican princes on board, and even more than that to suitably pacify the massed Gazellens. But he persevered, and even managed to carefully avoid direct discourse with any of those Gazellens representing coastal nations.
Celestia owed him a favour. Celestia owed him several.
But it was done, for now at least. Now the Gazellens could simmer to themselves, along with whatever others chose to share their company or have their company inflicted on them.
“...Two barracks-pyramids ramming into each other mid-air, as if they were bulls at play!” he heard Punda mutter to a couple of Gazellens. “He outmatches us, plainly.”
“Outmatches you, rather,” replied the half-gazelle, half-jerboa delegate, and subsequent muttering took on a decidedly more hostile tone.
To Burro’s right, Simoom was speaking. “Why, yes, I’m rather confused about the whole thing as well. But I’m sure it’ll all work out for the best. We have Celestia with us, after all. What lasting harm could befall on her watch?”
At his back, he heard an unknown Gazellen say, “Is nobody else questioning why an infant dragon has been dropped into this -?”
“Finish that question,” purred the Fire Queen. “Finish that question and see your continent turned to ash.”
To his front, Gellert flashed him a brief, encouraging grin before turning back to conversation and swapping a cheroot with his axex counterpart, a dignified female whose wings had been inconveniently replaced with warthog tusks. To their side, the Crown was being borne by the ibex servant in the direction of the Cormaer, who was regarding their advance with detached appraisal. Greenhorn was deep in hushed discussion with Fairy Floss, with occasional backwards glances towards the Cormaer. Rex seemed to be having an amiable chat with the Diamond Jackal, a chat punctuated by motions that suggested swinging an imaginary pickaxe, in turn invariably followed by mutual chuckles. Punda and Milia were pointedly speaking to Gazellens on opposite side of the cage from one another.
Past them all, in one quiet corner, Celestia sent letter after letter, allowing a few seconds' pause between each one. Her smile had long since faded. Her gaze occasionally rose to the tumultuous sky, before falling back to her task.
And to Burro’s right…
“So do you really have the biggest fleet in the world? My uncle says that Pachydermia’s fleet is greatest of all, but I suppose that’s not really the same thing as ‘biggest’. What does 'greatest' mean, then? Are we just the best at using ours? Why can’t donkeys use boats as well as us? I don’t think my Foreign Affairs tutor’s ever mentioned it. Maybe she should.”
The Shahanshah of Pachydermia’s arrival had been all but overlooked, and it had been a few moments before anyone had noticed the confused-looking and elaborately-dressed elephant calf in their midst. The more benevolently disposed of the leaders present had then held a brief conference.
“What do you mean, I ‘look kind and grandfatherly’?” Burro had hissed.
“You do, to those that don’t know your true heart of darkness,” Gellert had said dryly. “I wouldn’t suit. I’ve heard the axex nation doesn’t have a glorious history with Pachydermia and … well. Similarities. Celestia’s busy as well. She shouldn’t be distracted.”
“Personally, I just cordially despise children in all their forms,” said Fairy Floss. “Asking me to interact with him for a prolonged period is just a diplomatic incident in the making. Know thine weaknesses and all that.”
“I’m armour-clad, and all this is ideally removed by several pages over the course of a quarter-hour,” said Greenhorn, swaying and clanking as he did so. “Before then, my countenance may be somewhat imposing.”
“Donkeys aren’t intimidating. He’ll be reassured by you,” said one of the Gazellens, a rangy old female bactrian camel, whose two humps sported little sets of wings. “Didn’t think you’d be turning down the chance to get in the good graces of Pachydermia.”
“I’m not turning it down, I’m just objecting to the way it’s being presented. Not intimidating? How about when we’re releasing point-blank annihilation from the shoreline? How about -”
“Then, granted,” said the camel. “Maybe keep your voice down. I just saw the Grand Duke of the hippopotami glare this way.”
And so it was was that Burro found himself standing next to the Shahanshah-In-Waiting Sailears the Second of Ancient and Glorious Pachydermia, and nodding mildly along while saying, “I’m sure the Pachydermian Navy has many lovely ships to its name, Your Grace.”
“But do we? I’m never told anything.” A small amount of magic glowed up Sailears’ tusks, and his trunk waggled in an aggravated fashion. Burro took a judicious step to one side; the calf was nearly his height and substantially bulkier. “Uncle says I shouldn’t ask lots of questions but just listen to my tutors and him until I know enough to ask proper questions. What does that mean? Do you think he’s one of these evil regents? I’ve read stories about them. Should I just order him to be boiled in oil now? Or would that get the court annoyed at me?”
Burro considered his next sentences carefully. “I … don’t think ordering one’s uncle to be boiled ever solved many problems, Your Grace.”
“Uncle says that other barbarian countries just aren’t as old and wise as Pachydermia. Even the mammoths are smarter than everyone else.” Sailears casually prodded a tusk with his trunk and fidgeted in his heavy robes, casually forgetting about the prior thread of conversation. “Is that why donkeys aren’t good sailors? Uncle says donkeys are all scheming pluter - plutocri - greedy bastards who wouldn’t know what a mast was if they were beaten to death with one. Is he right?”
Withered and necessarily cynical Burro’s sense of national pride may be, it still existed in some form. His temper rose as a wave of heat through his skull. “Your Grace, kindly inform your uncle when you next see him that he is invited to take a mast and shove it sideways up his -”
At one side of the cage, there came a whisper that shivered through the air. All turned to see the portal opening once more, and Celestia discreetly slid her papers back into her saddlebag. The oval expanded and expanded, just beyond the size of Celestia herself, and finally stopped.
The long horned head of a rhinoceros emerged, topped with a tall headpiece coming to an elongated board bordered with a dangling fringe of jade bead strands. The rest of their body, draped over with elegantly-tailored green-coloured robes, lumbered into view.
The Ceratos Emperor stood before the assembly, slowly sweeping his head round to take all in. He barely blinked as the portal whined shut at his back, and his gaze came to alight on Celestia.
“We profess ourselves surprised by recent happenings,” he said, his tone mild. “Fair Procer, fain enlighten us.”
“A spirit called Discord has broken free from captivity,” said Celestia, wearing her most gracious smile. “He is intent on -”
“-On reducing all this stifling order in the world to cinders.” The voice boomed from where the portal had closed, and from empty space, Discord slithered into existence. He bobbed off the floor, his legs folded up before him, and smiled ingratiatingly. “I really can’t think why all of you seem happy in it. Still less why you pursue it. Different strokes for different folks, I suppose.” His smile widened. “Just console yourself with all the differences to be found now.”
“Are you done with this foolishness?” snapped Fairy Floss.
“This particular foolishness? Oh yes. Hardly anything civilised and important left in this side of the world. I did take a little wander out into the Black Ocean. From the east and west, I might add.” His eyebrows waggled, and detached from his head to float off. He casually reached up to secure them. “But nothing on the world’s other side worth bothering with. Or at least, nothing you’d want to bother with -”
“Enough of this blithering!” Greenhorn’s bellow was a thunderclap in the cage’s closeness. Outside, the gathering pink stormclouds echoed him. “What are you after, Discord?”
“A good old storm of chaos, for everyone to revel in. I thought that was obvious,” Discord replied. “Really, all this predictability must be getting so tiring. How can you live like this?”
“Gratifyingly! At length! With no need to -!” started Milia, before Punda patted him on the wither to shush him, Milia reflexively complied, before sending a glare his brother’s way.
“Don’t bother,” muttered the Fire Queen. “Just weather it.”
“We are not idiots, Discord,” said Punda. “Your advantage has been demonstrated. We are willing to discuss terms. What do you want?”
“... I just said.”
“Tribute? Lands?” pressed Punda.
“I have all the land,” said Discord. “Most of it’s now reshuffling itself in a more aesthetically pleasing fashion. Or displeasing fashion. That’s the thing about consistency; you don’t need any. As for tribute ...” He extended an open claw, and gold coins trickled from it in abundance, falling through the cage floor to the fragmented fields below. “Fresh from the Fire Queen’s own hoard. You’re welcome, by the way.”
The Fire Queen produced a strangled hiss. “YOU SON OF A -”
“No, really, what do you want?” demanded one of the Gazellens, the giraffe-legged warthog. “Oaths of fealty from us?”
“You’re all a long way away from your seats of power, with all the power to influence affairs of a disgruntled gnat.” Discord considered. “How do I put this delicately …? Your oaths of fealty - which you can give if you like, no stopping you - don’t mean squat.”
“Direct servitude?” growled the Cormaer.
“Pfft. Do you think there’s anything I’d get from your servitude that I couldn’t do myself, in time?”
“Carnal favours?” suggested one of the Gazellens, an okapi whose torso and legs were those of a fennec fox.
Discord came apart at the seams with the ensuing fit of the giggles and blithely drifted apart in different directions, while the rest of the assembly turned to regard the okapi.
“What? Look, I’m just saying, he might have been tempted that way and playing hard-to-get,” said the okapi. “Some of us pay attention to our grooming, you know. It was a reasonable suggestion in the current context. Would you kindly stop giggling?”
“Ahem.” Discord reformed. “Is the point made? None of you really have anything I want or can’t get for myself. The world and its order are the prizes. Nothing any one of you can give me. This whole conversation is just me being polite. I’m told that’s a good thing to be, from time to time. Goodness knows who told me, though.”
He flexed a claw experimentally. “One moment, you’re a statue in Celestia’s garden, watching the world go by with all this pent-up power just simmering away. The next, after a little kerfuffle outside … you’re free. Don’t say fate can’t be nice on occasion.”
“Enough of this gloating.” Celestia’s voice was a flat growl. “Either make your intentions for us plain, or go.”
“Such grimness. Who’s to say I can’t do both?” Discord snapped his claws, and bars of the cage above him bent down into arms to grasp him gently by the shoulders. They slowly lifted him up and away, as he continued talking. “You’ll all be released in time, no fear. Just as soon as I’m sure that everything’s been set to rights. And wrongs. And lefts. And all things in-between.”
He was lifted clear of the cage top, and vanished into the pink sky as the bars closed. Clouds slid in to fill the void, and past them, the great and struggling shape of Canterlot was glimpsed.
Slowly, all eyes turned to regard Celestia.
Celestia breathed out, settled herself back on the cage floor, drew out another letter, and sent it away in fire. She reached for another.
“What did he mean, he was in your garden?” screeched the Crown.
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Yea boy
5949055
Gracias! Corrections made. Wine may have had an influence on the writing of this chapter. I apologise for nothing.
I'm wondering if Celestia's regretting her choice of garden decoration right now.
What's wrong with rights?
5949246
Probably just a tad, aye.
5949272
Nothing at all! But a bit of variety never hurt anyone. Much.
5949272 Everything. Don't you know the things they've done? Dirty filthy rightists.
Oh man, this is glorious.
I especially love the way that the (less informed) leaders try to cling to their power and position as if it would help them here. I was half-expecting something to pop through that nobody had ever known about, but the way Discord put that.. maybe it's for the best.
I think there's something to be said about the most powerful of them all quietly sending letters in the back. She's kinda in Discord's position. She could probably shield herself, ignore everyone and just get her work done, but she's polite enough to probably answer their questions. Sucker's bet they wont realize his statue was probably in the safest place in the world.
Hooray, an update!
5949293
Glad you approve! It was a fun mixture of reactions to get on the page. Upcoming reactions should hopefully equally suit.
5949327
Aww, yis. I'd heard it had gotten onto the Feature Box before (with 'View Mature' turned off) but this was probably the first time I'd seen it for myself. Read it, yo. Your opinion would, as always, be greatly valued.
5949366
Good things to have every once in a blue moon, I'm told.
New Tempest chapter.
Drop everything.
Another entertaining chapter; have a fluttershy!
Favourite line this time around: “Just assassinate one of them already, whichever you like” it had read. “Assassinate both of them, why not. We are past caring. This ‘republic’ notion intrigues us and we wish to learn more.”
That's now my second-favourite newsletter subscription reference on this site.
One thing to watch out for, though - You were headed towards the "Loads and Loads of Characters" trope last chapter, and decided to make it literal this chapter. Among other things, that'll make it tricky to keep them fresh in the reader's mind (N parties talking means only 1/N screen time for any given party).
That said, you've done a better job than I'd feared. The dragon queen's sputtering has been consistently entertaining.
I look forward to future chapters!
5949402
5949418
Glad to entertain! That 'republic' passage made me giggle in the crafting.
Good shout on the characters, and I'm certain to introduce no more. There's high-on too many to manage as it is, and I'm thoroughly looking forward to writing something featuring less of the bastards.
5949449
Twelve minutes for a microfiction. Impressive.
5949477
I sometimes please quickly. It's not something I especially boast about, but ...
5949625
Yep!
5949449
You've certainly managed to get me interested in them, at minimum. If you decide to write stories that do narrower-but-deeper explorations of any of the cultures (and culture clashes!) you've introduced, I'll definitely be on board for reading them!
5949659
Some ideas have been brewing. I'll see if anything solid comes of them.
5949272
The wrong with rights is that they're all that's left when you write wrong about righting wright rites.
Heh heh. Lovin' the Fire Queen in this one. I see her as a pissed off mini version of Toothless.
I didn't believe you could top the ship eating ship but you did. The Congress Chimera. I have no I words.
Wait. Are the seaponies and the centaurs missing?
5949981
As fair a comparison as any. I was aiming for more of a 'tiny, pissed-off Smaug' myself.
"I am fire. I am de-"
"You're adorable! Pinch those chubby cheek!"
"Get off me! Get off me!"
5950102
No large seapony or centaur populations in this setting, alas - at least, not enough to constitute a nation.
Hmm. Can't help but notice one of those isn't sharing the cage with the rest of the rulers. I guess they're already sufficiently chaotic for Discord's taste.
In any case, the gang's all here. Now the real fun can begin, assuming anyone can ever get a word in edgewise against the general hubbub.
I quite like how no one seems able to grasp that Discord just can't be swayed politically. He wants what he wants. He told them quite clearly, without guile or hidden meanings. Their minds short-circuited from the sheer simplicity of the message.
5950895
Give them a few million years. They'll probably get round to inventing the wheel and string and an alphabet and all that sooner or later.
It's a fun dynamic to set up, no question.
5951143
The wheel? Alphabet? What are you talking about?
Who even needs that when you have theoretical mathematics?
Once you've gotten past functional analysis, topology and all that simple stuff, mathematics becomes like black magic, only worse. In a world oversaturated with magic and narrativum, a good theoretical mathematician is a weapon of mass destruction.
5950360
Between this and the questions about where Luna and Cadence were, I still have the mental image of Discord fillifying both of those alicorns, dumping them in the cage, fillifying Celestia, and vanishing again.
How each of them would react would say a lot about their characters, especially if they're about half way to being back to a child mindset:
- Celestia would maintain her poise and dignity, and start a filly tea-party (and invite the Fire Queen). Somehow, all of the adults would still take her seriously.
- Luna would harrumph and grumble and curse Discord under her breath, but would eventually loosen up and enjoy it. And then instigate a pillow- and/or snowball-fight.
- Cadence would just enjoy being a filly again. She and Luna would be "enablers" for each other.
- The Fire Queen would attempt to maintain adult dignity and intimidation-cred, with about a 50% succecss rate (about what she managed in this chapter).
This sort of thing is what "omake" chapters/fics are for.
5951334
if only the poor bipedal, hairless apes had magic, then they'd be a formidable force. Alas, their efforts largely consist of excited scrawlings on strips of bark and frustrated attempts to screech their findings at unimpressed Gazellens.
"Yes, I can see you're using fire and scribbling all over a poor piece of tree. So what? We were doing all that and more years ago. Come back when you've got taxation and a monarchy with a respectable lineage."
5951546
Ooh. Don't tempt me. Or tempt me loads, whichever.
5951863
What?
Huh? The apes don't have magic? But I thought you said they were doing theoretical mathematics?
What madness is this?
How? Who? Where? When? Why is there a Hausdorff space with only a single neighbourhood eating my legs? What are those rings doing floating around everywhere? And why is ε smaller than zero?
5952128
In light of that second paragraph, there are perhaps reasons why senior minds in Gazellen have decided it would be a very, very bad idea to encourage the apes in their endeavours. Plots within plots and a' that.
The apes themselves may not be a direct threat absent magic, but goodness knows what'll happen if the universe cottons on and decides they're right.
Another great chapter, for some reason I really love that baby elephant. I'm imagining Dumbo boiling his enemies alive right now.
Words cannot describe the boiling rage I am feeling right now realising that this story has been out for months and that I never knew about it because I wasn't following you.
Guess I have some reading to do.
And done. Now I am no longer angry. Now I am extremely happy.
Although I am feeling a bit overloaded on characters and have been missing the simplicity of the original somewhat, so I'm glad that we'll be getting back to just pure interaction next chapter when Celestia starts explaining the nature of the crisis. Not that it wasn't entertaining and all, but with the way everything was set up for all the introductions, these past two chapters were giving me Suburban Knights flashbacks.
5953593
Hard to believe Walt Disney vetoed that original ending and felt he had to put in all that 'flying' silliness.
5954270
No more characters will be introduced, rest assured. This is probably an object lesson in why, after a while, you have to be stern and just pull the brakes on your worldbuilding. Glad you discovered it and it's to your tastes regardless.
5955313 That would definitely have been a better ending. Also, I much prefer the accents and attitudes of your corvids to the Disney version. Somehow, the Cormaer is less offensive, even though she's trying to offend.
5955370
5955499 I think we all know what Discord did to the corvids! And I just realized something: Between Celestia, the Fire Queen, and the buildings of Canterlot sailing through the air, we have already seen a horse fly, a dragon fly, and a house fly in your fic! (As long as we are being completionist, Celestia also covers a whitefly, the Canterlot Castle also covers a stonefly, the servant of the crown probably covers a damselfly, the cormaer covers an robberfly, the Gazellan local elected rulers cover alderflies, and that camel lady with the tiny wings covers a mayfly).
5955576
Oh, good god. I'm an accidental genius!
5955313
I'm mostly just glad to see more of the characters from the first story, but I do find myself greatly liking some of the newcomers too. The diamond dog leader, the corvid, and the zebra brothers all seem like worthy additions to the cast. Can't say about the others yet, though.
Really good. Getting disconcertingly dark and I'm kinda not one for dark, but you write so compellingly that I can't stop reading.
Gellert continues to be kind of great.
Ooooo.
Ahh great, feuding twin brothers who are currently engaged in demonstrating which is the worse ruler and managing to come out even.
Hahaha!
Neat sword, I especially like the detail that it is hiltless. Same for Cadance's surprise talent for worst case scenario planning. Two bad it didn't fly (or maybe I should say didn't teleport).
Ahh, the Letters, I was wondering when they would come into play. Good thing they do in fact teleport. Well, burn.
It occurs to me that Discord may be hosting the first ever meeting of the United Nations on whatever planet they're on.
BWHAHAHAHAHA!
I like this Sailear kid, he seems like he could be a decent ruler with the right guiding influence brought to bear.
Now here's a Gazellen who takes after the Cadance school of contingency planning.
Heh, oops.
And this is the chapter where the story goes from being the Avengers, to Age of Ultron! Last chapter the gang got back together, this chapter we get some new recruits! And Simoom has just sky rocketed to my third favorite world leader, behind the Capricious Crown and Princess Celestia.
Reading this, I nearly died.
The warring zebra warlords was a nice touch. I'd completely forgotten about them in the first story, but remembered them almost instantly. I most definitely was not expecting a reference to the prequel!
I love the connection that Burro and The Crown have. I would love to see them trapped in a room together. And the Gazzelan delegates reminds me of One Piece, when Trafalgar Law uses his powers to mismatch an army of marines. Is this too a reference or just an ass pull?
I nearly came apart at the seams myself when I read this. I also nearly stopped breathing.
And after this, I did stop breathing.
P.S. Adorable Fire Queen, for the Win!
P.S.S. At first I thought Gazzellan was "Grazellan" and I thought that "Oh, Grazellan, as in, "to graze," because they're a confederate of herbivores. That's clever!" But alas, I realized you were less clever than I gave you credit for.
I did like the idea of the sword being hiltless. It matches up fairly well with how I imagine unicorn weaponry should look.
And I totally called the letters thing.
► There's a certain charming, natural flow to the way your characters converse. I've had no trouble recognising when one pony is talking over another and the interactions are just delightful.
► I've sort of been mentally picturing Sailears as a quadrupedal version of one of Babar's sons if their kingdom were more of a banana republic.
The sad thing is I realised I've been mispronouncing it in my mind this whole time.
Sailears?
Sail! Ears!
I'd been thinking it sounded more like Salieri but with an 's' at the end instead of an 'i'.
► I find myself quite liking the Lord Mayor of Abitdos; I wager they'd make a most effective alicorn.
* Except when they're sitting.
Bickering poiliticians are amusing to Discord especially with popcorn.
"few second's" -> "few seconds'" ?
So the Fire Queen is about Spike size, then? ... Did she actually look like that when she was the same age as what she was transformed to be? ... If so, how to explain Spike's lack of wings in more detail than: "Dragons are wildly divergent." ?
7305111
Fixed! And yep, wild divergence between dragons is what I'm rolling with. Compare this to this.
-Gosh, the Fire Queen is so darn adorable.
-I'm so happy Ceratos only has one leader. Dactylia has too many to keep track of. And a rhinoceros too! That's wicked as hell.
-Oh dear, for some reason I believe Celestia is going to have some less than cordial international correspondences in the near future.
You've done an excellent job of portraying Celestia in a way that perfectly fits the situation: nigh-powerless, but still crafty and resilient and commanding respect.
So, given the worldbuilding, she knows who Zecora is, as well... Well, as she's in hiding, she's likely doing it under an assumed name... And not sure if they've met each other in canon, or your canon either...
8294161
They've almost certainly met in passing at past court functions, albiet likely when Zecora was fetlock-high and supported by two bickering older brothers. It's the sort of thing Celestia'd keep tabs on though, no question there.
Crown cementing itself as best character.
-GM, master of doots.
I vaguely remember a story—I thought it was this one, but apparently not—where Celestia owns a weapon that she has to store in the sun itself, because just having it is a declaration of war. Or a war crime? Something like that.