For the Good of Equestria

by brokenimage321

Chapter 15: Land of Eternal Summer

Celestia pulled her cloak tighter and gritted her teeth. The snow-white winds howled across the plains, threatening to bury her in ice.

But she would not let them. She had beaten greater foes than this before.

She had come all this way alone. Days, she flew; nights, she huddled in a hastily-erected snow cave, or around a little fire. She had packed light—servants, carriages, supplies, would only slow her down. Something was wrong here, and she didn’t want to waste a second.

Plus, not packing much to eat meant she could stop by the various crystal villages, pay them good Equestrian bits for what they offered—often, more than they asked. At every stop, she saw more and more hollow faces and hungry stares—and only the barest, almost-suffocated, spark of gratitude at her gold.

The snow had grown thicker as she flew further and further north. King Sombra had been right—apparently, this far north, the weather was harder for the pegasi to keep under control. She had prepared for this, at least; first, she put on a thick, forest-green cloak, with cutouts for her wings; then, as the snows began to pile higher, she raised her hood; and, when flying itself became difficult, she added a pair of goggles. She would have greatly preferred being home by the fire, but such could not be. Her sister needed her, and she would answer.

Celestia had rested at the foot of the pass, using her magic to make a small snow-cave to sleep in, the insulation of the snow above keeping her warm through the night. Then, early the next morning, she flew to the top of the pass—and into the teeth of a screaming blizzard.

Celestia cried out as the wind slammed into her. She began to tumble, but her reflexes took over—her wings flared and trimmed themselves, and she glided, steadily if not gently, halfway down the mountainside before she had to land. She took several deep, gasping breaths, doing her best to steady her nerves. Finally, she looked up—and her eyes grew wide. Wordlessly, she pulled a muffler out of the cloak and up over her mouth and nose as she stared out at the landscape below.

What once had been a verdant field was now bone-white ice, twisted into bizarre and alien shapes by the howling wind, like something out of a nightmare. The path they’d ridden before was long-buried; not a post or marker to be seen. And everywhere, the snow—the blizzard filled the entire valley, snow falling thick, sharp gusts and blasts whipping it into a frenzied, whirling dance.

Celestia stared out at the scene, the cold slowly creeping into her cloak. She could try flying again, but in these conditions that was suicide; the only thing for it was to walk. Walk, and hope.

The journey through the valley was slow. The blizzard never slacked, but Celestia didn’t care. Her Alliance—her sister—needed her, and no storm would stop her. She slept in fits and starts when she needed it, huddled under the snow, and walked when she could. She would surely have lost herself in the storm—were it not for the Light.

The Light. She had noticed it the first—well, to call it “night” would be disingenuous, for here, under the thick black clouds of the blizzard, time had no meaning. But as the light began to dim, she noticed, off in the distance, a faint glow, one that stayed steady until the sky began to lighten again. She set her course towards it, and slowly it grew larger and larger. At first, she thought it might have been the Spire—who knew how much light a crystal like that could give off—but she soon realized it was far too big. But still, its glow was steady and warm—and, whenever she felt like turning around, or giving up, or just lying down in the snow and letting it end—the glow beckoned her onward.

On the fourth day, Celestia could barely see. Goggles notwithstanding, the snow flew thick and fast, and stung every inch of her exposed skin with a thousand tiny cuts. She gritted her teeth and kept walking. She was almost there—the glow was so close, she could almost touch it—

—and then, she stumbled, and fell into bright, empty space.

She hit the cobblestones hard, and lay in a dazed heap for a long moment. When she looked up, she saw a city street, bathed in warmth and sunshine. The few ponies still in sight carefully avoided looking at her.

Celestia stood and stretched. Nothing injured, at least not too badly—but snow still covered her thick winter cloak, and her belly still rumbled from several days’ light rations. This was no dream… but what was it?

Celestia looked up and gaped. In the distance towered the Crystal Spire, shining almost bright as day. And, from its pinnacle, stretched a glowing dome, covering the entire city, shining a bright, sky blue, with the flat image of a golden disk high in the false sky. Celestia looked over her shoulder and sucked in a breath—behind her, piled eight, twelve feet high, barely visible against the magic dome, was a solid wall of snow—and there, above her, was the deep trench she had carved through it.

The Crystal Empire, she thought to herself as she slowly turned to face the city. Land of Eternal Summer.

She stared at the dome for several moments, trying to figure it out; whoever—whatever—made this, it was powerful magic. No way any one pony could do this on their own, even for a few minutes…

Well. Whatever was going on, it apparently worked. But now, she thought, there were more pressing questions—like food, and a bed, and Luna—

She took a step towards the Spire—but paused. Here was an opportunity that rarely presented itself. Luna was expecting her, but no one knew when she would be arriving. She, more-or-less, had free run of the city. Why not check it out a little? See if things were really as bad as she suspected? Besides—she was in no fit state to see the king now…

A quick step into a back alley fixed everything. She tied back her mane and did up her tail to hide as much of her identity as she could, then magicked the snow and damp off her cloak. With her wings folded tight underneath she was just another unicorn—an uncommonly tall, not-crystal unicorn, but a unicorn nonetheless.

She had to admit—she rather enjoyed her day of anonymity. A trip to a bank let her exchange her bits for Crystal carats: little low-quality gemstones sliced into flat pieces. With these, she paid for a decent meal at a tavern (boiled grains and mashed roots—two helpings), a long soak in a private bath, and a single room at an inn. From what she could tell, the Crystal ponies were all good ponies: quiet, hardworking, earnest, and appreciative. Anyone would be glad to have them as their citizens… but…

With each carat she spent, she had the same conversation. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t been in town long,” she would ask the merchant. “I was wondering—how do you like it here?”

And, in each case, the answer was “Great!”, or “I love it!”—but with a too-long pause before it. A nervous glance afterward. And always, always, a nervous little tremble.

Celestia was no detective, no journalist, no mind-reader. But, for what it mattered to her, she had all the answers she needed. His Brilliance could make any protestation he pleased—but something was rotten in his kingdom, with or without his knowledge, and that had to change.

But, that’s what Luna had been negotiating for, right? To save all these ponies? This thought first occurred to her as she lay in her bed that night, legs sticking awkwardly over the hoofboard, the dome overhead speckled with false stars. Celestia frowned, then rolled over. Luna would have worked it out. She was too smart to let stuff like this slide by unnoticed.

Right?

Author's Note:

Two short chapters for today's morning update; don't let anyone say I never did nothin' for ya