Disjointed
Two Guards are posted outside the only occupied cell, and neither truly wants to be there.
Guards generally don't have many reasons to spend time in the palace's lowest level -- at least, not long-term. Trips to the armory are infrequent, you don't want to be near the forge for any longer than it takes to sneak a note onto Barding's message board, and with the barracks... they went unused, and now they're rather decidedly occupied.
During more normal times, the majority of ponies using these hallways will be doing so as a shortcut. The visible portions of the palace exist as a pair of angled lines which branch from a central point, and the basement does not. There are passages hidden beneath the Courtyards, and anypony who needs to get from Lunar to Solar without going outside or using the Syzygy all the time can just go down first --
-- assuming they can learn how to navigate across the lowest level.
The basement doesn't conform to the visible shape of the palace. It lies under both wings and the space between them. The cells aren't anywhere near the device repair shop, which isn't all that close to the barracks, and the trot from there to wine storage might encourage an increase in thirst. There's a lot of acreage, and new hires have found ways of becoming lost within most of it.
There isn't that much hoof traffic. Some staff rookies give up on ever figuring out how to get around down there and these days, more than a few veterans take the long way around. It's for the same reason you generally don't cross a moat through swimming: you just never know when the resident monster is going to come by.
The Guards don't exactly have a reason to expect company. They can't hear anypony approaching through the corridors, and when it comes to what they can pick up on from the outside world -- if the two Solars are getting even that faintest hint of vibration, then the protesters must have reached a new level of volume. And they were told, barring emergency, that they were to maintain their posts until such time as both stages of the interrogation were complete.
The prisoner is trapped inside the cell.
Her words keep escaping.
The prisoner... talks. A lot. The best parts of it are inaudible, and those still take place in the sort of half-mutters where a listener can almost guess at what's being said: any true blank tends to be filled in with the most toxic material available.
Sometimes she sings, with most of the notes seeming to stay just under her breath. None of the lyrics are audible, but the tone and meter can both be made out. They're childish, singsong beats, repeating over and over and --
She has somehow mastered the trick of complaining about her food while eating it. Some of those protests will be about having to use her mouth for more than chewing and swallowing. Both Guards are convinced she's forgotten how to use it for Shutting Up.
All details about her suffering are conveyed directly to those outside the cell -- well, to one of them. Necessity requires a unicorn to be present, just in case something happens to the restraint. (Just about impossible, but -- Guards plan for the worst.) That's the mare whom the prisoner will usually address. When it comes to the tally of terms used for any attempt at contact, Misguided is currently holding a rather distant second place, and the Solars aren't sure anything is going to catch a hard-galloping Traitor-- but over the last hour, Brainwashed has been coming up on the outside.
She tells them she's innocent. Repeatedly. There's an entire presentation available as to why Nightwatch is the true guilty party. This is something which emerges when pressed, and the prisoner is fully capable of pressing herself. The Solars have heard a hundred reasons for why the pegasus is to blame, although the prisoner is certainly willing to allow for the possibility of centaur corruption. She knows the signs of that. According to her, the Guards are displaying most of them just from standing outside the cell and if they're both very unlucky, she'll probably say what they are.
And when there's no speech, there's singing. Muted lyrics, and the scraping of metal going into wood.
The Guards keep having to look into the cell. Checking on what she's doing, seeing how close she is to the door. And the moments of wood-scraping become the best ones, because that's when her head is lowered. When they can't see her eyes.
Neither questioned their orders. Both are utterly loyal to the thrones. Each pony would give up their lives in an instant for the sake of the world, and they're still mutually planning on checking the law books to see if there's any clauses which would label their current assignment as Cruel And Unusual Employment. Because they have to stay down here until both stages of the interrogation are over, and they want that process to officially begin so they can start getting this trotting knackered out of their lives.
...there's another term: one both Solars have been quietly examining in the cool of the basement. (As with the rest of the palace, the climate in the lowest levels is regulated. The actual temperature is fine. It's just that something about being near the prisoner is making them feel cold.) Hackamore. It's not a word anypony uses much, and nopony ever wants to hear it said about them.
The original definition has it as a sort of facial adornment, which the Saddle Arabians use as part of artistic displays. It's a lot like a bridle. It's just... missing a bit...
...and that's when the alarm goes off.
They recognize the exact pattern. (There are two dozen signals, the palace staff is required to learn what they mean, and nopony gets into the Guard without having every last one memorized. The centaur had to sit in an isolated room with a dedicated phonograph for several hours.) Breach. Something just got into the palace --
-- they're both Solars. Instinct sees tails stiffen and fur twist against the natural grain. Duty provides a single overwhelming urge: reach their Princess --
-- they can't.
They have their orders. There will be other Guards in Princess Celestia's vicinity, and they'll take care of her. If reinforcements are required, somepony will set off that alarm. Until then, they have to stay where they are, especially since this particular signal wasn't followed by another.
...maybe somepony just got into the wrong section of the palace. The Spinner mare might have tried for a restricted door. If so, the All Clear will be sounding at any second.
...any second...
They have to stay.
They listen.
They worry. Fret. Do their best not to start pacing. Hope for word from above.
And within the cell, the prisoner begins to merrily hum.
"Breach," the Sergeant half-snarled, and Cerea watched the roots of his fur go rigid. "How did they --"
He stopped. Brown eyes darted left and right beneath the shadow of the hat's brim, even as patterned ears twisted backwards towards the sound of fast-approaching hooves.
The old stallion jumped. Twisted in the air because that was faster than doing it on the ground, and his knees bent a little too far upon landing --
-- the protesters.
It must have been --
-- we heard them, and then --
The girl was already ill. But that had just been a physical thing. The newest surge expressed itself as sickening thought, riding a wave of bile and blame.
-- me. They're coming in because of me --
-- she was trying to move. To get all four legs off the bed. But doing so meant she had to check on everything around her, because nausea had been producing disorientation and she could potentially reel in any direction. It let her truly see the Sergeant, and the exact pose his body had assumed. For a pony, he could almost be regarded as half-crouched, and he was facing the open door. Getting ready to spring forward and charge at the source of those hoofsteps.
Her nostrils flared --
"-- it's Doctor Bear!"
All four of the Sergeant's legs straightened slightly. Just enough to take him out of the charge position, while ready to bring him back into it.
The brown-furred unicorn raced through the doorway, pulled up about three meters away.
"I'm here!" It didn't emerge as a gasp after the short gallop: Chocolate Bear was unusually fit for a unicorn, far more solid and muscular than his thin, almost waifish partner. (It felt odd to use the term for a stallion, but you had to see the diagnostician. Cerea was still trying to figure out how Vanilla's neck was capable of supporting the weight of his mane.) "I heard! Do you know what's going on?"
A single spark drifted down in front of the girl's eyes, crossed the gap and touched his horn. The surgeon barely noticed.
"No word yet," the Sergeant tensely stated. "Best guess is that some of the idiots outside just became the idiots inside. Don't know how..."
His tail lashed, exactly twice, and that was all he would allow himself. Cerea, still getting up, watched the old stallion think.
"Generals know," he muttered. "They'll start working on their own plan, and they've got Guards around them. Don't need to reach the Generals right now. Trust the recruits, trust all of them. Most important thing is..."
And he glanced back at Cerea, whose forehooves had just reached the floor.
"We have to secure this area," he decided. A fast-intensifying gaze focused on the surgeon. "Didn't have these offices before I started traveling. Generals would have to be protected if they were injured. Surgery turns into the most critical part of the palace. You've got something --"
But the unicorn was already moving.
"Shield device," he told them as his horn ignited, and a bright green corona lanced towards one of the anatomy posters. "Built into the wall. It's the strongest version known. It'll put the dome over the entrance door, and I can block off more rooms on command."
"Can you turn it off again? It doesn't need one of the Princesses to shut it down for an all-clear?"
The poster was pulled off the wall, exposing an embedded crest of gold and silver. "Yes," Chocolate Bear said. "They understood that they might both be unconscious for a while. I've got full control."
"And is there another way out? One Cerea can fit through, since the Generals might have to use it?"
The surgeon nodded.
"Good," the Sergeant declared with open satisfaction. "Close us off for now. Buy some time. Where's your partner?"
"Archives. Medical building. Looking for anything we could use." The exhale went on a little too long. "So at least he's not in this. Activating."
The green corona flowed across the face of the device --
-- it wasn't a new scent. The unicorn almost managed to keep his expression calm, was able to prevent his body from doing more than having every muscle go tight in a single surge -- but he couldn't do anything about his scent.
"Something's wrong," Chocolate quickly announced, and the corona's brightness intensified. "I can't..."
"What is it?" the Sergeant checked. "Talk."
This is me...
They were coming for her.
They had to be.
They would come for her and when they found anypony in their way, they would go through.
All she did was make things worse.
Just existing --
-- she could have died in the fight against Tirek, she had died and if she'd stayed that way, then none of this --
"It's not working."
It wasn't a new scent. It was the one Cerea knew by heart, as the first she'd encountered. The stink of pony fear.
The unicorn's head was starting to toss, and the next sign of equine panic somehow seemed all the worse when it came from a pony with a shaved-away mane. There was no hair flying, nothing to obscure any part of the reaction, and it let her see the sweat beginning to soak into his scalp. "It gets checked twice every moon, and the last one was right after Cerea was brought back! I'm not a mechanic: I don't know what's wrong, and I can't repair it! And it can't be the charge, because it taps directly into the palace grid! There was no other way to make the shields last long enough --"
"-- breathe."
It was an order, because that was what Sergeants did. But the word didn't emerge as a shout, yell, or scream. It was just an unusually solid utterance, and the weight of it pressed Chocolate's body into momentary stillness.
"I believe in coincidences," the earth pony said. "They turn up all the time in fights. But not this one. We're both going to the front door. We'll block it. Tip things over, make sure it won't open without us hearing. Buy some time."
"Traps," the surgeon quickly said. "Is there anything we can activate in the hallway? Something which might --"
"-- did they brief you on any traps, Doc?" It wasn't a snarl. A snarl would have been so much more gentle. "When you were hired?"
"Nopony told me about anything, but a Guard might know --"
"There's a few," the Sergeant stated. "Only a few. But this is a place where everypony on the staff can go." He was already moving for the door. "You don't just treat the Generals: anypony in the palace gets sick, they see you. And you get kids, right? When somepony goes bracken in the middle of a tour, they get sent here?"
The "Yes --" barely had time to emerge, and wound up having to establish the utter confusion all by itself.
"-- kids, Doc." The wiry legs were accelerating. "Because there's public parts of the palace, and kids wander off. They get everywhere, they touch everything, and they'll find a way to set off something which was a hundred percent secure because they didn't know it was supposed to be impossible. Discord was from kids. Anything in the public sections has to be harmless and even then, the kids get creative. There's other stuff we can use, but the palace has to be a lot emptier first. You're with me, Doc. MOVE."
No school tours today.
Please.
Please don't let me be responsible for hurt children.
Injured ponies.
More hurt foals.
I don't know where Nightwatch is...
The surgeon scrambled to follow.
The centaur tried to move again, because only the forelegs were planted. She could move if she concentrated. While she was concentrating, for just as long as she was concentrating...
She heard something heavy being shoved across the floor. Some of what had been on top of the desk dropped, and shattering glass allowed her to scent exposed photo prints.
The Sergeant raised his voice again: projecting past noise and distance. "Cerea, do you know where the other exit is?"
"...yes," was the best she could do. It was as he'd said: the surgery was one of the most critical areas of the palace. It had to have more than one way out, and a (former) Guard needed to know exactly where that newest of secret passages was.
"Good," emerged as something stark. "Grab a weapon."
"Sergeant --" was simply desperate. Her back legs reached the floor: the left one stumbled slightly.
So many ponies could get hurt.
Killed.
Because of me.
"We may not come back," the old stallion told her. "You hear us drop, you run. You're in a doctor's office. Something in here can be fatal. FIND IT."
She was no longer under his command. But he was still her Sergeant, and she moved.
It didn't stop the thoughts.
If they're coming for me, if they take me, then they might leave everypony else alone --
-- my life for all lives --
She wondered if any of them were wearing yellow vests.
I have to find Tia.
Luna was willing to entertain the possibility of a false alarm.
A staffer somehow got into the wrong room. Wordia Spinner decided to make us issue her an invitation to the world. Faulty spells, somepony setting off the wrong signal by mistake...
Legitimate possibilities all, and she wasn't willing to trust a single one of them. When it came to security, a little light theorizing meant nothing when compared to the weight of verification. And given what she'd been hearing from the protesters --
-- she had to start moving.
I have to find Tia.
Her two Guards had failed to smoothly slip out of their half-concealment, and were coming towards her at their personal top speeds.
"Princess!" Moonstone gasped. "We're moving you to Security Point Paddock until we find out --"
"-- no," the dark mare stated. "You will not."
They were both staring at her. She recognized that the disbelief in their expressions came from both concern and a sort of love. Luna appreciated it, and also knew that understanding the source made their reaction no less annoying.
"We have to get you to safety!" Imbrium insisted. "If we don't protect you --"
"-- and we currently have no knowledge of what I am to be protected from," Luna rather reasonably told the mare, insofar as that could be done while her wings were flaring out to their full span. "Our first, best suspect is the protesters --" and if I need to be saved from that rabble, you might as well give my regalia to the Royal Frog and see how it gets along with Moon "-- and they represent something less than a severe threat to me. We need to find out exactly what has taken place, and then we must protect those who are truly vulnerable. The staff --"
"-- but we have to --"
Her wings flapped, and then she was aloft. Imbrium, caught staring up, needed an extra second to get airborne. Luna decided to both allow for species and save some time, then enclosed Moonstone in a corona bubble and hoisted the earth pony along.
"You need to protect me," the younger stated. "I understand that. So you are both coming with me. Your job is to prevent my death? Apply it to yourselves as well."
She started to gain altitude. An aerial survey might be possible, especially if she cloaked both herself and her charges in illusion. Go to where the most likely suspects had been, see what was going on, and do so while knowing that her sibling would be attempting the same.
Her horn ignited. Patches of winter sky coated three forms, and the dark mare was briefly grateful for the Weather Bureau's scheduling decision. Keeping up an appearance of moving background clouds across a trio of the camouflaged in realtime would have brought on a headache within minutes. There was only one cloud visible, it was ahead of them, and --
-- what is that shape?
Where would her sibling have gone first?
Find Tia.
Hard-won experience had taught Celestia that there was no true first thing to do during a potential crisis. Not in the sense of having a single reliable action which was guaranteed to work every time, especially when she didn't know exactly what the crisis was.
No true knowledge -- but she felt as if she was in possession of a fairly workable guess. It was something which had been amplified by the noises which were starting to reach her, shouts and screams of triumph reverberating within the building's acoustics and that was why they'd chosen marble in the first place, because that material would make it so much easier to hear any invaders in the halls --
-- there had been a Guard outside the library, but Glimmerglow hadn't known anything. It wasn't the mare's fault: there hadn't been enough time for the word to spread that far. They'd wound up moving together, the next two Guards found didn't have any real information, but the sounds were moving through the palace ahead of the ponies and it was ponies, so many hooves echoing on marble, along with a rather distinctive note of wild laughter --
-- more screaming now, all echoing up from the entrance level. Startled ponies, doors slamming shut, glass had just broken somewhere and the next terrified scream was that much louder --
-- and now she had three Guards trailing her.
She cut it down to two. Because there was something in the old mare which wanted to go galloping directly into the middle of it all, and an alicorn body offered the option of doing so with her head lowered -- but she needed more information. Acting without knowing what she was acting on was its own path to disaster and
find Luna
she was going out to the gardens, she should be safe for now
find Luna
she could hear hooves pounding and wings beating too fast, there were more than two alicorns at risk...
"Sunspot!"
The speckled Guard moved that much closer. She gave him orders, and he galloped away.
All right. I think I know what this is. I can't afford to be wrong.
(She didn't want to be right.)
"We're teleporting," she told the remaining Guards. "Move into contact with me. Now. And get ready for recoil. I don't know if the arrival space is clear." Aiming for the final approach portion of that hallway improved her odds, but there were ponies moving through the palace at their best speed. Some of them would be doing so in a rush of panic, and if she teleported to where a living being was already present...
In one sense, the penalty for doing so wasn't too severe. Merging matter on the molecular level was severe. A teleporter coming in to where a relatively dense solid already existed would simply find their body shunted aside in a random non-down direction, until they found enough space to appear. That such movement steadily accelerated as it searched for a safe point... that was something of an issue. As were any walls which might be in the vicinity of that safe point. Or ceilings.
She was hoping not to fall on anypony.
There's probably at least one witness trying to reach me. Tell me everything they know. But we might never find each other. This is faster.
"The Potrero should be empty --" Glimmerglow frantically tried.
Celestia spread her wings. Feathers brushed against both Guards' backs --
-- she was lucky: the space was clear. They arrived on their hooves, and Celestia's wings refolded as she galloped across the last section of marble --
-- both Guards tried to protest, because they knew what she was trying now and it was going to be exposure, risk --
-- and they were right.
Her horn ignited again, and the leading edge of the expanding shield bubble pushed open the door to Apex Tower.
The elder had nearly thirteen centuries of memories to draw upon and as she stared down from the balcony, one of the most frustrating rose to the surface.
"What did you say to him, just before they locked us in? I didn't hear --"
"That it would have been nice to be wrong about something I wished I was wrong about."
Followed by, with just a touch of internal shadow:
This is what I wanted.
There's no protesters left outside the palace.
I probably should have added something about not having them all inside.
There were still some ponies visible, all at street level. Fallen forms. Some were trying to get up. Others weren't. And the wind brought the first of the bloodscent through the air-permeable shield.
"Get some of our ponies down there," she told her Guards. "Start clearing out the wounded. Get them to the hospital."
Glimmerglow glanced at Steadfast, who nodded. The pegasus mare moved to the edge of the shield, Celestia made a temporary gap for her, and the Guard swooped out.
I could --
-- there were so many things she could do. Most of them had the chance to produce more wounded.
She had the option to serve as a teleport escort for every one of the injured. Back and forth, over and over. And doing so meant she was leaving the palace. Abandoning that many more of her own.
There was the possibility of having a second wave on the way. She might be able to stop that. All she had to do was put up another shield. One which would essentially need to cover the entire palace. And she had raw power, could put more thaums behind a single effort than just about anyone alive -- but she wasn't Shining Armor. Celestia didn't have a talent for shields. It would take too much of her inner resources to protect the building for even a few minutes, the results would require the sort of constant maintenance which left her doing very little else...
I could teleport to the Empire and find the Captain, then come back.
International transports were potentially exhausting, the plan came with the rather nasty built-in assumption that she found him immediately, and she wouldn't be here. Additionally, any shield use meant trapping the current attackers within the palace. And there was another problem...
There was so much she could do. But there was only one of her. And any choice she made would neglect every other.
It had been an early lesson in leadership. Casualties could be potentially minimized, but seldom eliminated. To look in one direction was to turn her tail towards another. And no matter what she did, the bodies would fall.
What happened to the gate? What did they use to bring it down? She wouldn't be able to truly feel any spells utilized in the attack without getting a lot closer --
-- her horn twinged: magic use nearby, approaching fast, moving through the air, and Celestia's corona flared at the moment her head jerked up --
"-- I will not ask for calm, sister," a patch of lightly-rippling sky quickly said. "Simply focus. And, if at all possible, a plan." The illusion dropped, and Luna maintained the hover: the pegasus Guard remained close by, and the enclosed earth pony blinked a lot while trying not to look down. "What had you done prior to my arrival?"
The old mare had nothing she could pray to. It made the Thank you somewhat directionless, while remaining fully sincere.
"Started an evacuation of the wounded," Celestia quickly said. "Sunspot's moving down, checking on the staff. He's also shedding his armor along the way." Remove the metal and there was no protection -- except from that which arose when ponies saw a stallion who clearly wasn't a Guard. "He'll recruit anypony he finds, and they'll evaluate. I gave him discretion on setting off the next alarm. Yourself?"
"Locating you," Luna rapidly replied. "And now we may have to do the same for another."
She thinks she knows something. "Who --"
-- no. If it was the protesters...
...they've never tried to --
"That cloud." A silver-clad forehoof jabbed up. "It was poorly molded: the shape is already beginning to disperse, and I can only make a guess at the original intent. But if you examine what remains --"
The elder looked.
Because she had to verify.
She had to know.
There were no scalpels, and Cerea didn't understand that. There was a surgical room among the medical grouping. She felt cutting tools would have been a reasonable expectation. Then again, she didn't even understand how a pony scalpel would work. A slip-on metal shoe with an exceptionally thin, sharp front edge...
...she couldn't find any of those either.
Her watch was available, and it didn't take long to locate the flexible metal cord. She attached it.
Needles?
They weren't particularly effective as cutting instruments. Stabbing wasn't much of an improvement: they were too thin. Her best option in a fight would be going for an eye, that would probably mean throwing the things, and they weren't exactly balanced for it. Plus any unicorn field grab would disable her efforts, and the most minor pegasus wind gust...
Of course, she could always try for what that one show had displayed as a near-guaranteed fatality. Load the chamber with air. Inject it. Let the embolism do the rest.
Cerea loved stories. She also understood that television ignored science in favor of drama, and had looked up the actual results later. The overall mortality rate was roughly twenty percent, and the fastest possible death required ten minutes. The far end of the temporal range ran out at two days.
Her ears kept twisting. She could hear furniture being moved against the outermost door. And, somewhere off in the distance...
The disc could only work with what she heard, and nothing was close enough to resolve into words yet. But she felt as if she was picking up on the undertones. The rage had been expected. She hadn't been prepared for the glee.
Three needles?
Anything I carry as a weapon can be telekinetically grabbed and turned against me --
What couldn't be used against her?
Maybe --
She didn't quite try to actively start the Second Breath. It was more of a warm-up exercise. Trying to move the trachea's lower branch flap --
It took about twenty seconds before she managed to get all four legs straightened again. Another ten were required to make the room stop spinning.
Okay. Can't do that --
-- there were familiar hoofsteps coming back.
"Find anything?" the Sergeant asked her, quickly trotting into view.
She held up a small bag, then displayed the watch.
He nodded, glanced back at the middle-aged unicorn. "Doc, is she good to move?"
It had been months since she'd witnessed a pair of males carefully evaluating her body...
The blush rose almost immediately: an instinctive reaction, and one she didn't know how to stop. But they kept examining her. Something which was a little easier to do because when it came to the equine portion of her form, she'd never had this much on display.
She had the sweater, and there was a bra beneath that. But when it came to her lower torso, it was the hospital gown. Something which had been designed to drape her right flank, fully exposing the bruises on the left. As far as Cerea was concerned, she was displaying acres of plain, brown, inadequately-groomed fur. It felt vaguely obscene. And the only thing anchoring any of it was the hole at the base of her tail.
If she moved too quickly, there were going to be buttocks. At a minimum.
"For injuries," Chocolate Bear announced, "yes." He looked up at Cerea. "There's probably going to be some pain."
If I can even find it in the nausea. She nodded, and felt several loops of intestine contract.
"But there's the other condition," the surgeon added. "We don't know what that might do --"
"-- have to risk it," the earth pony decided. "Can't leave her here. You're coming with us?"
Chocolate Bear nodded.
With the smallest, thinnest smile Cerea had ever seen on a pony face, "Can you fight?"
The unicorn then matched it.
"Non-combatant," he told them. "But no one else ever seems to know that." The lush black tail twitched. "I've got a trick which works in a fight. I just have trouble wounding with it."
"A doctor," the Sergeant began, open frustration suffusing every syllable, "who doesn't want to draw blood --"
"-- I have trouble wounding," the surgeon steadily clarified, even as his eyes slowly shut. "It's too easy to kill. What's the plan?"
Emery Board blinked.
"Too easy to --" and dropped it. "Tell me once we're out of these rooms." And looked up at Cerea. "We're getting you into the secret passages. If we're lucky, they won't be able to reach you there." His ears pressed firmly against the hat. "But I'm not counting on being lucky. Core of it is that we've got to find a safe place, and this isn't it. Doc says you can move. Is he right?"
She was planning to lean against walls a lot.
"Yes."
They're coming for me.
They wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't here.
The noises were getting closer, and the disc began to resolve words.
Just about one word.
"Centaur!"
"...oh, centaur...?"
"CENTAUR!"
"All right. Let's --" and stopped. "No. We need a few more seconds."
"We don't have time --" Chocolate Bear began --
"-- we've got enough for this," the old stallion decided. "Where's your thermal paper?"
...his what?
The surgeon abruptly grinned, and his horn ignited. One of the lowest drawers on the rolling cabinet lit with green, followed by opening itself.
"Coming to you," he offered, and an oddly glossy sheet floated towards the earth pony. Something almost reflective, as if the material had been coated in thin, flexible glass. "Did you want hot ink or cold?"
"Give me both: I'll write fast."
Two bottles crossed the gap, followed by a pair of quills. The paper itself landed on a visitor's bench --
-- the outside hooves had reached the door.
There was a shove. This was followed by a kick. More kicks. Multiple flares of light illuminated the hallway, leaking around the edges of the barricade point --
Cerea stood in place. Her tail trembled. She gripped the watch's cord, watched for that first directed burst of field. A freshly-woven cloud being pushed into the room, crackling with electricity. Hooves aimed at bare flesh --
"-- done!" The Sergeant moved the paper by mouth, picking a display spot while the unicorn slammed the bottles back into the drawer. "Where's our exit?"
It was at the back of the surgery, next to the supply cabinet.
The hidden door opened. Concealed lighting devices flickered into a too-low level of glow, and the trio slipped into shadow.
The elder wasn't particularly artistic. There were times when she felt as if appreciating art required effort, especially with some of the more esoteric forms of it. But she had been among the first to see the symbol. Something burned into a door had singed its way into her memory. And when she stared up at the cloud, saw just where the molding had been unweaving itself...
Too many thoughts arrived at once.
How?
They wouldn't have made this move unless they knew.
...they've never tried anything like this. They have to realize...
Fanatics were capable of realizing any number of things, as long as it was something they'd told themselves.
Leak?
They probably wouldn't act on a rumor.
Overheard somepony at a bar, we tried to crack down on that after the last article...
But the evidence of intent felt indisputable.
(The evidence was partially falsified.)
They know.
"I'm going," Celestia told the group. "Now. I'll come back here when I'm done. We have to get her out of the palace --"
A somewhat frantic "Sister," came from just overhead. "I shall go to her --"
"-- I'm taking her to Ponyville," Celestia cut the younger off. "I have more arrival points than you do --"
"-- she was my --"
"The sword is gone, Luna! She's helpless! We don't have time to argue! I'm --"
Helpless.
There was someone in the palace who could do even less to help himself.
Purple eyes went wide.
"Get some ponies up to Summit! Protect Discord!"
The echo lasted exactly long enough for the memory of a very young mare to stare across time at the reality of a very old one.
...I just said that.
Things change...
Celestia's horn flared, and the Solar alicorn vanished.
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I'm going to assume here that ponies got the concept of a knacker from griffins in this universe. >.> Also, these Guards hate this mare. Really, really hate her.
đź—žđź—ž
It's perfectly normal for chapters to end on cliffhangers. Look at any book you own. :nods: It's how you end up having read to the end of the book without putting it down, y'know?
Or how the author got you to buy next week's paper, in Dicken's case. This is normal. We will survive. :)
Cerea is in worst shape than I thought if moving through the nausea is that hard. The rioters are really emboldened if they are calling for her like that, their bloodlust and hate clouding their judgment.
It's good that the sisters guessed the ennemy objective this early in the crisis but Celestia is right, protecting Discord takes priority.
I am curious about what is thermal paper with the cold and hot ink and how the Sergent is planning to use it. Messages that only the Princesses can read?
Why. Can't. I. Leave. More. Thumbs. Up?!?!?!
Chocolate Bear is gonna dice some dumb bastards up with a cutting skill I bet. And they will have earned it, unfortunately. But I'm glad he and Emery are willing to protect Cerea. I wonder what the symbol Celestia freaked out over was about though. Excellent chapter!
Well, if anything could be enough chaos to reinvigorate the avatar of Chaos, this might well be it. Plus the chaos magic Cerea's probably got inside her, of course. As always, I hunger for more.
11194316
It's the hand over hoof symbols the protestor began to use to display their hate toward the Centaur.
"bracken"? gtranslate doesn't help, unless it means them turning into ferns?
barricade point, eh?
11194316
Please tell me you’re gonna keep knocking out chapters quickly. I don’t have the grip strength to hang on these kinds of cliffs.
11194316
yes, he has a "trick" that works like a scalpel made of energy. it's PERFECTLY sharp, can cut ANYTHING.
Reminds me of the Capital riot last year, but with ponies.
11194309
Or maybe a message to the rioters to try to send them on the wrong track?
Looks like the protesters found Tirek's corpse. I wonder how that's going to complicate things.
Feels like this is gearing up for an Ending, but I kind of hope they resolve this part, and then Cerea and Fancy go on Adventures hunting for Chaos Pearls for another Season yet.
The protestors find Tirek, its going to make them ever more desperate to take out Cerea. After all, she took out what was effectively a God?
Insurgent:
"Her assigned bedroom is the Solar wing"
"Her assigned bedroom is in the Solar wing"?
"is going to come with slightly less screams of "TRAITOR!""
"is going to come with slightly fewer screams of "TRAITOR!""?
Disjointed:
"the device repair shop, which aren't all that close to the"
"the device repair shop, which isn't all that close to the"?
"which the Saddle Arabians use it as part of artistic"
"which the Saddle Arabians use as part of artistic"?
""Can you turn it off again? It doesn't need one of the Princesses to shut it down for an all-clear?""
Was this supposed to be the Sergeant talking? Context suggests so, I think, but, in that case, should that "Princesses" not be "Generals"?
"camouflaged in realtime would have brought"
"camouflaged in real time would have brought"?
Thanks for writing!
There is something deeply touching and almost primal in how the sisters first impulse is to find each other.
Still logical, still pragmatic in their actions, and I like how the difference in experience shows, but in the end, finding each other is such a instinctual reaction.
11194355
Bracken ferns are effectively poisonous to equines. Shorthoof for getting sick because something looked edible and interesting. It's a special vulnerability of kids.
"Knackered" existing as a term in a society of sapient ponies raises some uncomfortable questions.
Opportunity cost in a nutshell.
Thermal paper is certainly interesting. Notes that only pegasi and other creatures with infravision can read? I'm sure the Sergeant knows what he's doing there.
Chaos unfolds. Let's hope it doesn't do so literally. If any of the protestors heard Celestia...
Well, one crisis at a time. Assuming the crises will be so courteous.
11194376
Estee has gone on record that this was part of the story's initial plan. Reality cribbing the idea was purely coincidental.
I don't like how none of them seem to think this is really about the prisoner..
đź‘Ť
11194639
Aren’t Daisies, or some of the other things ponies on the show eating also poisonous?
>thermal paper
No but seriously, that was a well-done moment in a chapter that was fantastic all-around, man. I loved the Sisters interacting and seeking each other out first thing, that both makes sense and feels so heartwarming. There were so many great lines in this one that I just had to screenshot them. Great work Estee! The near-to-last line where the memory of the young mare looks out at the reality of the old one and how things change was so masterful. I love it on so many levels. It is a fascinating parallel. Thank you so much for your hard work. Now I know you'll post an Anchor Foal sequel on April 1zt for my birthday right? 
jk
What is this, a term in an Estee fic left undefined? That isn't in the terms of the contract.
11194668
It depends on what kind of daisies, the name daisy can refer to multiple species of flower.
Bellis perennis are the small ones you find in a lawn - perfectly edible; try them on your salad!
Gerbera Daisy Gerbera jamesonii Big and colorful, common in decorations - not poisonous, but not particular tasty, might cause allergic reactions
Marguerite daisy, Argyranthemum frutescens Smaller, commonly the white/yellow color but also in many others. Not poisonous
Oxeye daisy, Leucanthemum vulgare What most people think of when hearing the name, often a weed in its natural habitat. Not poisonous
Poison Daisy/Stinking Chamomile Anthemis cotula As the name indicates - yes do not eat this one. Can be confused with:
Chamomile Chamaemelum nobile and Matricaria recutita The ones you make tea with.
Wild/Scentless Chamomile Tripleurospermum inodorum Harmless, used medically in some traditions.
11194481
While a fun idea, I think it’s more likely that for one reason or another that Cerea is called up to protect Discord’s unstable form in the tower and when she gets within proximity, he pulls his nauseating essence from her and reforms. At least, that’s my guess for the end game of Discord’s current predicament.
11194722
Don't forget that people who are allergic to ragweed often have an allergy to chamomile; they're closely related. In fact, that sleepiness some people feel? That's their body's antihistimine reaction, natural Benadryl, if you would.
The same applies for daisies, naturally. But you'd be surprised how often 'various' flower petals end up in sophoric teas. Check!
11194640
I think it has to come from the griffin ranches. They definitely knacker the monsters (after all, if you can knacker a car...), and we know there's glue in setting, where else would it come from (bookbinding has almost always used glue, even when sewn)? Not ponies. Fleur's background finally fills that hole, for a LOT of things, really.
11194640
The parallels are still fascinating.
11194990
The wealth of video showing protestors climbing over exterior barricades and walls, desprately being held back outside The Senate (and failing to be so for long), smoke clouds in the crowd (smoke grenades or actual burning things?), nearly killing guards at the entrance doors, smashing their way in through windows and things, displaying cop-inflicted injuries while fleeing, etc. says that the Jan 6 protestors have more in common with the ponies here than you think.
InB4 Celestia teleports into the surgery right in front of the angry mob as they break in. That sounds like a great time all around.
Hackamore. Because she's being led by the nose. That's clever.
Well, that’s certainly an interesting little team that has formed in the infirmary. Probably for the best that Vanilla Bear is off-site…. This is not the kind of situation where it’s safe to daydream.
So my guess is that the thermal paper is to leave secret messages for the generals telling them their fallback plans.
11194481
Cerea has yet to visit the mountains where the Ibex live. This wasn't so much foreshadowed as it was plainly stated was going to happen.
11195487
Understandable, but Emery Board explicitly says that the sword has room for both hands on the hilt, but she's strong enough to use it one handed and prefers to do so. You can also see in the show that it's something like an English style great sword, but with a straight blade as opposed to a wedge shaped one.
11194874
Ooh! I knew chamomile was good but I was unaware of the antihistamine effect - Thats neat!
And yeah, the world of herbal teas can be.... fraught with misguided advice and ideas.
Oh wow talk about a nail bitting episode.
Assuming the Princesses and guards are able to figure out why things went so wrong, I can’t help but wonder if the castle might just be torn down completely to be rebuilt completely new and fully planned out, in order to remove the issues caused by centuries of piecemeal renovations.
I suddenly find myself wondering about Discord's opinion of the saying, "The more things change, the more they stay the same." Would he be offended, or could he find the humor in it?