Hotheaded
When it comes to potential emergency situations, the palace has a number of standing policies. A few of the more recent additions to the list are closer to suggestions. For example, if any quantity of Bearers are going to be dropping by, it's usually a good idea to prepare a few papers for Maintenance in advance. Should the visit be intended to launch a mission (or worse, a diplomatic meet-and-greet), that's joined by disaster relief forms and in either case, you're probably going to need about three bale-weights' worth.
It's been a long time since the last true war, and a few decades have to be added onto that number before reaching what used to be the most recent siege: something where all of the attackers were kept outside until just about the very end, and probably should have known better than to believe that the palace was experiencing a true moment of weakness. But you never stop briefing staff on the various alarms. Telling them what to do in the event that any of the sequences go off, and there's nothing wrong with running a seasonal drill to make sure everypony's making the right moves. Because Harmony is an ideal and as with most concepts of perfection, the best you can do is keep trying to reach it.
So there are policies in place for the initial stages of a breach. The majority of non-Guard staff are meant to shelter in place. There's exceptions, but nearly everyone has the same orders: lock themselves in, try to arrange a few barriers, prepare for self-defense. They are not meant to go into the corridors. Actively risking their lives isn't the best idea. The breach has to be evaluated for threat level: where it started, how far it's spread, and you really need to identify the place it's desperately trying to reach. Breaches normally have targets, and the sisters don't want those untrained for combat placing themselves between the invaders and what they want most. Inanimate targets can sometimes be repaired or replaced. Those ponies who aren't natural combatants, in the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to interpose themselves during a moment of bad luck -- ponies have to be buried.
That's what supposed to take place. Get to what's seen as a safe point. Make sure it stays that way. Don't try to evacuate unless you're just about right on top of a fast exit and even then, it's not necessarily a good idea. You have to be careful about opening anything which leads to the outside because there's a breach in progress, and the invaders may be looking for one extra means of ingress.
The sisters can't promise that ponies won't get hurt if they stay out of the way. They've just found it tends to improve the odds.
But this time, the invaders are ponies. Citizens who, over long years of talking to themselves, have convinced themselves that nopony else qualifies. They've chorused themselves into hating the palace, with songs which come from inside and out. And some of them were told to serve as distractions.
Of course, that's not how they feel about what they're doing. They're giving the palace what it deserves.
Some of them are going for artwork and in doing so, are discovering that a number of protective shield devices are still working: anything which operates on a purely internal charge remains functional. But not everything is guarded. If it's in an alcove, it's probably untouchable -- for now. The tapestries, however...
Eventually, they may reach the Hall Of Legends. Rock crystal woven into exacting patterns, held together by a near-invisible framework. The framework might be easier to target.
Others are trying to find what they feel are the places where the real records would be kept. (This wasn't a stated part of the plan, but there's an Opportunity.) Anything which shows how the palace has kept their species down, because of course the alicorns are going to write about that and place all evidence in an accessible location. There's three species caught up in this particular delusion, so there's a lot of looking. Some of the participants are already using the mobile scrums as an excuse to get some shoves in.
But a number are trying to get into those sealed offices. The places where members of the Solar staff might try to shelter. Because why would anypony close a door unless there was something interesting on the other side? And if there's a pony behind it -- well, that's actually a 'pony', because they work for the alicorns. And if they don't cooperate, they deserve whatever happens next.
There are three organizations involved, and their members all have a few things in common. For starters, they've all been told that the palace is responsible for everything wrong in their lives. The reason for their never having been publicly been acknowledged as superior. Some of them have been thinking about that for the majority of their lives.
Fanaticism, simmered over a constant burn of hatred over the course of several years, has finally reached its boiling point.
The majority of the staff is supposed to shelter in place, in the hopes that it'll keep them from turning into targets. Hostages. Worse.
They have standing orders to defend themselves, and no more.
Those are their orders.
It's just not what's happening.
The usual sign of an incoming teleport arrival was the flash of light: something which generations of thaumatologists had tried to eliminate, with none even partially succeeding. A stealth teleport, something which didn't announce itself -- it would have been endlessly useful, and there seemed to be no way of forcing it to exist. The light was an inherent part of any entrance or exit with the between. If you teleported, you got a flash. Period. And that was the best case.
Celestia, who had just enough time during recoil's abrupt rightwards push to realize that somepony had moved the rolling cabinet, wound up including the extra option.
There was a flash. This was followed by an alicorn body being jolted into the nearest wall: something which had (occupied) shelves attached at various points -- and the kinetic energy transfer produced by that amount of mass coming to a very sudden stop added the crash.
It had been a short recoil: she managed to stay on her hooves, took the brunt of the impact on her outward-leaned shoulder and prevented the wing from being injured. But that was followed by having to immediately refocus as fast-twisting ears registered delicate instruments which had been set to jittering or worse, moving towards the edge of the shelving --
-- she flung herself back towards the center of the room, just in time to avoid having anything come down on her back. She also wound up hip-checking the rolling cabinet into the opposing wall, but it frankly deserved that.
A flash. A crash. If you were standing in the right place, neither of them could be missed. And as she wildly surveyed a room which wasn't hosting a centaur, those still-twisting ears picked up the reaction from the hallway. Something which briefly cut into the other bursts of light: the ones which had been pushing against the outer door, along with making the echoes of hard kicks pause just long enough to register possibility.
"There's something still in the offices!" a pony voice called out. "Something big! That's got be the centaur!"
Somepony snickered. "They must have left it behind. Not like it's any good to them any more..." And the little touch of mirth swelled, expanded from the internal pressure of ego until it became a full mockery of laughter. "Did you lose your sword, centaur? Is that the only reason anypony kept you around, to give the alicorn another weapon against us? No sword, no centaur, no value, no use, no breath..."
(It was the sound made by a natural bully: something the girl would have recognized in an instant. A fundamental internal weakness trying to mask itself, because inflicting enough pain had to mean nopony would ever get a good chance to look.)
The old mare had already been angry. The recoil had served as an extra irritant. Not finding the girl had added something else to the mix: the bed was empty, and no one had emerged from any of the other medical rooms to see what the noise had been about. And now there were voices, intruders in her halls, threatening her staff in her home --
-- it had been a brief pause in their efforts to break in. Long enough to gather strength and redouble efforts, because now they knew there was still a target to reach. The corona light leaking around the edges of the door took on an aspect of white: something which indicated double coronas from the unicorns in the group. The kicks kept coming, and the mare heard stacked furniture starting to shift --
-- it all started to move backwards. Then the upper portions shifted before the lower, another crash got added to the mix, and earth pony bodies shoved themselves against the resulting gap, again and again until there was just enough room for a pony form to get through, kick everything out of the way --
The old mare felt oddly as if there was something shifting within her body, getting closer to the surface. Not so much a rise as a flare.
...my staff, my people, my home...
"You never should have decided to come here!" the bully shouted as multiple sets of hooves pounded down the entrance corridor, because things like evidence and personal testimony were just lies to fool the weak. Light flowed ahead of the group, light with too much white in it because there was a centaur ahead and there was no point in dropping a double corona now. "You shouldn't EXIST! EVERYTHING WHICH WE'RE GOING TO DO IS YOUR FAULT --"
Six ponies (with a pair from each Equestrian race, because none wanted to give any other a numerical advantage) tried to barrel into what had been meant as a recovery room, and didn't quite make it. The lead bully rushed in, made it across two additional body lengths, and that was when he saw what was waiting for them.
He slammed to a four-legged halt without dumping momentum into a slide, vibrated somewhat atop his hooves. But there had been a silent group agreement to let him take the initial risk (even when that was clearly no risk at all), and it was something which had the other five intruders fanning out behind him. Going no further than he had, as they all stared.
More legs locked. Only two of their owners managed to convince themselves it was from strategy.
They had all seen her. Never at this lack of distance, but... she was a constant background presence in pony lives. They'd seen her, and they'd all decided that they knew her.
They knew she was weak.
She had to be weak. That weakness was part of why the Guards existed in the first place. What happened when trouble came calling? A Princess was bundled off in the opposite direction. She'd responded to Tirek by leaving: how did that represent any form of strength?
(They had all been trying to flee. They'd all been told that their species was the most important thing about them. That clearly also meant the magic inherent to their species. And if they lost that magic...)
The alicorns didn't fight and if they didn't, it was because they couldn't.
-- well, the Solar one couldn't. (There were different theories associated with the Lunar, and one of the more disturbing claimed that the Guards were trying to protect the world from her.) No one living had ever seen it. They saw her greeting ponies, being friendly with those who weren't even ponies at all, and she was kind and gracious and smiled a lot and she was the good mare. Nopony among them could reconcile the idea of having the good mare fight, because everything she did was so obviously intended to avoid it. The Guards existed to keep her away from conflict. As far as two of the intruders were concerned, Discord had originally tripped at the edge of a volcano and staggered out just before the lava dried.
She was weak. A freak with access to three categories of magic, but when did she ever use it? Without the Guards, she was an easy target. Anypony could beat her: that was what all of their organizations said. It was just that nopony had ever gotten that close.
They were all that close.
And they stopped. If only for a moment, they all stopped. For a mixed group of supremacists, it was the most united they'd ever been.
Part of that hesitation came from what had just been recognized as an issue with the prior, more distant sightings. She... looked a lot smaller when she was far away. She was right in front of them, she was more than a third again as tall as the largest of them, and an ethereal mane wasn't doing anything to distract from what was suddenly being registered as a very solid body. A giant form which had tension radiating from every powerful muscle.
A little more of that pause arose from a simple fact: she was part of the world's background. She had, in fact, been part of it for a very long time. The mare had birthed a nation, and even if that nation wasn't all it could have been, should have been if those in charge weren't so weak -- they all counted themselves as citizens of the realm. The only real citizens -- but without the mare, there wouldn't be any kind of nation at all.
They hated her. (They told themselves that. Then they had told others, and some had listened.) Loathing applied. But a constant background presence, combined with a very real size factor... it felt like being an adolescent who was rebelling against a parent. You had to fight back, because being an adolescent meant knowing everything and you had to take control before the adults could shut you down. But there was currently a certain question as to whether it was possible to line up the kick.
And there was another factor. You could hate the alicorns. As far as they were concerned, doing so was proof of sanity. Loathing alicorns was among the surest signs of a real pony (if you could get blood and form to match) -- but you still sort of needed Sun. Just about every remotely plausible dream of deposing the sisters had to include some means of making sure they would continue to perform their duties: the other option was a rather half-baked victory -- or, if Sun had stopped in just the wrong place, fully roasted.
Yes, there were supposed to be other avenues for making it all work: the idiocy of the four-unicorn theory had been around for a while. But when it came to the loss of magic, Tirek had provided just about all of Canterlot with some rather intimate knowledge regarding exactly what that felt like. To find two quartets of the horned who would be willing (or could be forced) to make that sacrifice, every day... it was something else which made them hesitate.
They'd all seen her, as part of the constant background of their lives. Pictures, educational films (and she was frankly a horrible actress: to watch her reciting lines was to detect exactly where the cue cards had been hidden). Newspaper articles. The center of parades. And she smiled and she was polite and gracious and she was the good mare.
The good mare was standing in the center of fallen debris: broken instruments and shattered syringe glass. Her lips had pulled back from her teeth. Both ears were now tilted back towards the neck and flat against the skull. The hind right leg was partially raised away from the floor, while the half-tangible flow of the tail lashed. And the room itself was... hot. Far too hot, and the air rippled with haze as it rose from her fur.
It all made them hesitate. Just long enough to recognize all of it. Recognize, but... not understand. Because the lead bully had been at the center of his echo chamber for far too long, listening to words of agreement. That was his idea of Harmony: everypony acknowledging perfection. And so he spoke to her. Knowing that this was the good mare, and the good mare always had to back down.
"Come on, Princess," he half-sneered. (Using the title wasn't offering the mare any respect. In many ways, he simply couldn't conceive of her having a name.) "You don't want to do this --"
She spoke.
She spoke, and yet it was as if somepony else had spoken. Because it was a voice they didn't recognize, one where the harmonics had been distorted, deepened, and there was an accent, something none of them had ever heard before, ancient tones twisting the words from within.
She spoke as familiar purple eyes were suffused with a foreign hue, and her voice was just barely her own.
"I looked down and there were bodies in front of the gates."
And perhaps if she had not dropped him with a thought, the rest would have had a chance to run.
She looked at him. It was all she did. And sweat broke out across the whole of his body, threatening to saturate fur within a few fast-accelerating heartbeats, just before it all converted to froth. His breathing became panting, turned shallow, was hardly anything at all as unseeing eyes receded partially into the skull, every limb seized at once as joints collapsed and then the stallion fell.
The alicorn gave his heatstroke-convulsing form no more notice than was required to vault over it as she charged.
The other unicorn, who was not-thinking at the speed of panic, hadn't dropped her corona. A flicker of field fetched one of the denser pieces of debris, brought on a body-dropping backlash with a slam as the alicorn lowered her head, used the white horn to hook a pegasus between humerus and scapula, levering him with his own joints before a single jerk of her neck sent him into a wall. It was something which the remaining pegasus and earth pony mare mostly missed, because the follow-up sound of the huge right forehoof breaking six of the earth pony stallion's ribs gained the majority of their attention, as did the resulting scream. The left forehoof, moving faster than anything that large should have ever been able to move, made sure they didn't have to hear it for long.
The huge head lifted out of impact range. The horn ignited, and the last pegasus was pinned against vertically-hung parchment. Feathers spread out across an anatomical chart, just about matching the available outline. The skull was simply slammed into the backing stone.
The final intruder tried to turn. To run.
Wings spread. Not for flight, because the room wasn't large enough. Just to offer a little more control on the jump.
The oldest mare in the world landed on the earth pony's back, and the square-cube law took care of the rest.
She carefully stepped down from the last of the fallen forms. Allowed Sun's heat to dissipate from the first, then sent a portion of her field to twist nearby taps and fetch containers. The worst of it could be mitigated if she got cool water against his neck and groin. Other projections gathered bandages and elastic wraps, then began to entangle limbs in practiced ways. Earth pony strength wasn't going to mean anything without the proper leverage, and when moving one leg just pulled on another...
"...you can't," whispered the last to drop.
The elder of the only two ponies to survive the Discordian Era paused, and Celestia Invictus looked down at the mare.
Can't what? felt like a rather natural question. Or she could have made a familiar statement: 'You'd be amazed by what I'm capable of.' And she might have chosen to reflect on the double-edged nature of earth pony endurance, because an immediate blackout would have provided a degree of relief. The mare's eyes were dimming, but... not fast enough.
She could have done any or all of it. But instead, she allowed her ears to loft again, and listened.
"...you're not allowed to do this... you have no right..."
The old mare didn't feel a reply was needed. Instead, she finished carefully evaluating all six with well-practiced battlefield expertise, judged that all would live while none would actually enjoy it, internally chided herself for not having anypony to question, and bound the now-unconscious mare's mouth.
There were other things which could be done in the aftermath of a battle, and Celestia had to decide which ones were worth the use of quickly-passing seconds. However, slowing her breathing was just about an absolute requirement, as was making sure the temperature in the room was dropping back to normal. She had to calm herself, while doing everything possible to avoid so much as a single moment of personal satisfaction. Wanting to do it again was right out.
The pony form had some anatomical issues, and most of them passed over to the alicorn variant. For starters, if there was an urgent need to apply hoof to buttock, then Celestia had no direct personal means of kicking herself.
I should know better than to have made that kind of wish.
There's going to be a second arrest. We may reach triple digits. I just don't know if any of them are going to be crucial. The arrest which matters...
She surveyed the office. Looking for signs of what had happened before she'd arrived, because the girl hadn't been there -- but the attackers had known where to look. And the only disturbance she'd found on arrival had been her own. She hadn't missed the first fight...
They know the sword is gone. That she's vulnerable. He couldn't have done a better job of confirming that. (Her field tipped a mug, got a trickle of water into the unicorn stallion's mouth and made him swallow.) They were after her --
-- but is that the whole of it?
Celestia was already starting to question the motivation. The girl was both the source and target of fear. Hated, loathed. The old mare didn't doubt there were those in the city who would have struck against Cerea in a vulnerable moment -- outside the palace. To put together this kind of operation, even in the name of striking down the centaur -- to risk this much...
Whose risk is it?
Could the leaders of the organizations legally separate themselves from the attack? Were they really willing to kick away years of control and profit over one centaur?
It felt unlikely.
...but not impossible.
They could be that far gone.
Their memberships might have been in revolt. Do this or they leave. Or turn against their leaders. Get the right mindset in place and herd mentality can mean creating monsters in bulk.
They might not have had a choice.
It was a bitter thought, and the internal image which showed the maestros of hate seeing it used against them failed to bring any satisfaction at all.
If we get an arrest which matters...
"When somepony shows you who they are, consider believing them the first time. But when the enemy directly tells you what they're trying to do, consider having a little doubt."
All right, Zephyra. I hear you. Cerea's a target, but there's a chance she's not the only one. I have to start looking at things from that angle. What else might they be trying to accomplish with this?
...Wordia?
It still doesn't feel like that's enough to justify all of this. Not even in conjunction.
There's Guards with her. She made sure of that, just by trying to get away from them all the time. Wordia can be moved, and I know where she's starting from. But I still have to find Cerea.
There was shouting, somewhere in the distance. Something fell over. Glass broke. And she had to let all of it happen, because there was no guarantee that she would be able to come back here. Even if she was able to return later, more intruders might find the medical offices. Seeking the same target, and potentially obscuring any remaining hints as to the girl's location. She had to find the clues now.
For that matter, we're down at least one Bear. (Another surge of concern tried to take over her psyche: she pushed it back.) One might leave to research, but not both. Not when Cerea's this sick. So if she tried to leave, he would have gone with her. That means two missing, possibly three. And that's without figuring for visitors.
(The girl had been getting visitors. It was a sign of how far she'd come...)
She kept surveying the room. Fallen stethoscope. Broken glass, with the smallest pieces vibrating from the echoes of distant fights. The girl's sick bed or rather, the one Celestia was supposed to use if the need ever arose. It had been the only thing large enough --
-- the edge of something glossy, thin, and almost reflective was sticking out from under the pillow.
The elder sibling didn't smile. She merely projected her field, fetching the sheet of thermal paper as she trotted towards the nearest sink, stepping over two fallen attackers on the way. A metal sink, and a single flare of heat turned all of the residual moisture within into steam.
Good. You thought I might come in.
Let's see what you wanted to tell me.
She looked at the paper, and the prior flash and crash picked up one more rhyme.
Thermal paper could be found in most of the palace. Typically, there would only be a few sheets in any given room, hidden away until they were needed -- and it was a few sheets because they were almost impossible to make. The thin material had to pass through a fifteen-step process before manufacture was complete, and the only one which didn't risk destroying it was taking the dead branch off the original tree. Thermal paper creation was majestically unforgiving, and had left behind a centuries-long trail of aching creators who swore they knew what they'd done wrong.
The intended results were oddly hard to tear. In fact, there were only two things more difficult: writing on them -- the paper would only absorb two precisely-blended mixes of ink -- and, when it came to the usual methods for disposing of paper, destroying the results. You couldn't get rid of thermal paper by throwing it into an active fireplace. The flames wouldn't be hot enough.
Celestia didn't have that problem.
She placed the paper in the sink. Looked at it, and nearly all of the sheet collapsed into ash. Everything except the gold-glowing trail placed by a very special ink.
The mouthwriting was tight and small. It was the product of a pony who was never sure of when the next resupply was coming in.
Cerea and surgeon with me. Moving her to safety. Trying passages first. May go for Paddock, but expecting difficulties. Backup is leaving palace for outside terrain.
Emery.
The writing dimmed, and the final ashes scattered.
It told her so much about what had happened, and it didn't tell her enough. Emery had been visiting the girl, because a Sergeant was always going to check on his own. He'd decided to evacuate her himself, and Chocolate Bear had naturally come along. In the best case, Celestia had probably teleported in less than five minutes after they'd all trotted out.
And he probably used a few seconds for writing it with both inks. If Luna had found the sheet, then the paper would have fractured in the cold, leaving behind a brief trail of luminescent blue.
But she didn't know the exact route he planned to take, especially when there were so many ways to reach the saferoom designated as Paddock. Without the doctors, she couldn't know how severe Cerea's current condition was, and whether there had been a risk in simply moving the girl at all. And she didn't have the time required to plunge into the secret passages and search the entire network. She had to get back out into the palace.
It wasn't ideal. 'Ideal' would have been getting Cerea into Ponyville, secured at tree or farm or possibly even cottage now that Fluttershy was trying to serve as a medical consultant, away from all of it and safe. But Emery was far from the worst option. When it came to looking after someone, Emery was like having six Guards in a very compact package. And if there was any need for backup... she'd seen Chocolate Bear fight before --
-- no. I've seen him run a bluff, so he didn't have to fight.
...it might have been a bluff.
It probably wasn't --
-- she had to trust the Sergeant. Generations of Guards had trusted in Emery's teachings, and the ones who'd both remembered them and been a little lucky were mostly still --
-- wrap up here. See what else has to be done. Get back to Luna, then put together the next move.
The old mare cared about the girl. But Cerea was a single person: one who had already acquired two guardians. And there was shouting and screaming and echoes of hooves pounding through her halls, posing a threat to the whole of her staff.
She had to get back out there.
The old mare wasn't able to teleport back immediately. There was one thing which had be taken care of first. An aspect for which she had no other choice, and naturally that was Tirek.
The makeshift morgue was nearby. The location was something which just about the whole of the palace seemed to be aware of, because what felt like a rough majority had been trying to get a look at the corpse. Celestia fully understood the emotions which drove ponies to make sure Tirek was dead -- but the parade of peeks had been threatening to interfere with the autopsy, and she really didn't need anypony coming to a few 'maybe it'll work this time' conclusions about the blackened, corroded, semi-identifiable platinum. She'd wound up sealing the room off herself, and it was worth a few seconds to make sure it stayed that way.
She made sure the corpse was undisturbed. Examined the resealed door, then reinforced the spells. Three intruders who'd been late for the centaur-kicking party came across her, and then there were three more unconscious bodies in the medical offices. Celestia carefully failed to place any of them upon the bed.
Mixed groups.
They're cooperating. For now.
Maybe there's a way to ruin that.
It's almost enough to make me wish windigos weren't some overrated playwright's idea of allegory.
...mostly some overrated playwright's idea.
Mixed groups...
It was the sort of thought which led to others.
No school tours were in the palace. Nopony started this early. But there were some set to arrive later. The police should keep them out of the area.
...the Canterlot police had at least a few officers watching the protesters at all times. Just in case. Not enough to stop anything like a full-scale assault, because nopony was expecting that, and it would have taken just about everypony they had. It wouldn't leave anything for the rest of the capital.
There may be injured officers down there. Probably close to the gates, where I couldn't see them. Glimmerglow will --
-- or they could have gotten out of the way, then tried to follow the assault. Get into the palace, help from within. But if anypony was conscious, then at least one would have gone for a precinct house. Alerted them about what's going on. We could be getting reinforcements in a few minutes. It was another reason not to raise a shield. And if nopony got away to send the word, I can send a Guard.
More strays in search of a centaur. Eight seconds wasted. She briefly entertained the thought of putting a sign on the door, then darkly recognized that none of the intruders would ever believe her.
Considerably less than the population of Canterlot, at least. It was still possible that some had come from outside the city...
They're in our home. Threatening our staff.
Her entire body went tight.
Not for long.
The old mare took a breath. Ignited her horn, and aimed for Apex Tower.
Put away the Princesses.
Bring out the Generals.
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Everyone got that? Everyone cool now?
That there, folks, is some weapon’s-grade entitlement!
And who else thought of River Song?
Celestia, put thy house in order.
Seems they're all about to learn that the guards aren't there to protect the princesses, they're there to keep the princesses from having to fight.
Mostly?
That raises some questions while answering others. "How have these groups not frozen solid yet?" being one of the latter.
In any case, yeah, you don't mess around with a mare who beat your country into existence from rawest anarchy. She's dealt with much worse, and she has every right to disprove your delusions of grandeur.
Also, Celestia's very close to pinning down the true motive behind the invasion. The problem is that she can't focus on that line of thought for long while her ponies are still in danger. We'll see if an epiphany strikes her in time... assuming the true scheme doesn't run into a centaur on the way to the real objective.
Oh, gotta love a badass Celestia done right. Curious to see how Luna will go!
11197126
Cerea is likely do both foil those schemes and find her magic in the process. Or free the crucial part for Discord's return, either/or.
11197086
Celestia being all "I'm not locked in here with you. You're all locked in here with ME!"
Breaking down and sobbing for forgiveness would've been the smart choice. Somehow though, that mob of idiots thought sneering threats and acts of violence against the mare that literally moves the heavenly bodies essential to the survival of all was the way to go. They're lucky that she pulled back enough not to burn them to ash, much less treating their well earned injuries. Still, I feel bad for Celestia here. She obviously doesn't enjoy hurting ponies, but they've left her no choice. Excellent chapter!
fuck! Surely this phrase existed before 2020 but I'm getting flashbacks nonetheless
Sweatingtowelman.png
Mindset is so important. And dangerous.
Damn!! What a great chapter. I love this Celestia. She is such a badass! It's so intense and exciting. We stan. Thank you for such a quick yet quality update for the end of the month! You rock Estee!
That was both very intense and cathartic. Can we do that again?
Celestia kicking but and stopping some assholes fel good to read. Just a liiiiiitle bit more and we would have got a Princess with a fiery mane and melting stones under her hooves.
But now, we got the Generals and Equestria is going to get a reminder on how the country got united before Friendship was accepted as a better solution than the ash and ice left in their wake.
And man, thermal paper sound like an awesome magical item for the setting. A shame it's so hard to make but it shows that not all item are easy to make even with the Palace budget. I wonder if Spike flame could potentially reveal the Hot Ink?
Sooo, I am guessing some of the non-guard staff is giving the rioters more than they could chew. Barding and Sizzler are my first suspect, confronting a blacksmith and a cook in their workplaces is like assaulting a well guarded armory, you are starting with a weapon deficit.
I can't help but feel that Jan 6th inspired some of the writing here because a few parts do feel eerily similar.
An enraged Celestia is really not somepony you want to fight. Silly ponies.
Cathartic. Also, was flash of flight supposed to be flash of light? If not, I have several questions.
sigh
Now to wait for the middle of April.
Torment.
Always a good day when we get badass Celestia. Wishing these chapters were slightly longer though, it’s agonizing waiting to see what’s happening!
As a certified Celestia dork... Hell yeah. Absolutely love to see it. You did a great job pushing her to the right level of fury, and I love how her fighting style is this tightly focused economy of action. Very suiting.
Raises some questions about if the thermal paper was created pre- or post-Abeyance, and if the assumption on it's supposed security ever mattered during Nightmare Moon's first ascent. (Also if thermal paper can be sent with Spike dragonfire or Celestia's imitation dragonfire.) Glimmer spoilers: What about Starlight's teleportation barrier? Surely the paper can be modified in such a way as to accept other inks while remaining indestructible, or Celestia/Luna could carve letters into it.
Ah yes, Celestia doesn't have the right to defend her home while at the same time she's a tyrant who abuses her power. Textbook doublethink.
The sun is a source of warmth and life, but peeps seem to forget it still a massive ball of super heated plasma that would bake a world until it is sterile and dead if not for many blankets of protection holding back a portion of the tiny fraction of its energy that is flung our way.
In Celly's case the `many blankets of protection` everyone has is her compassion, morality, sanity, and protective urge. Yeah those idiots stripped away the compassion side by having the stupidity to break into her home, so now they just got morality, sanity, and protective urge...and they really pissed off the last of the three. Congratulations fanatics...you played yourself.
So, is Celestia reverting to her original speech patterns, or is she channeling one of her Bearers?
Windigos aren't real? Or, at least, do not match what is commonly known about them?
Part of me is going "about damn time", but another part is wondering how Murdocs and that lot will make this turn and bite the Princesses ....
I think any "protestor" who runs into Barding or (even worse) Night is going to have a bad day.
11197424
Well... it depends on how much of martial law comes into effect... and there is always the thing "You say that I'm the bad guy? Well, now you see what it means for me to be the bad guy."
I've just been dwelling on this chapter, a bit. It's great how this strengthens the characterization of Celestia you've been working on for years.
The Good Mare is a choice she makes. It's a choice she has made for centuries, to choose love instead of fear in direct refutation of Marechiavelli. It's an internally logical choice she makes because of her beliefs and her vision, and this chapter does a great job of underlining that it is a choice.
Well, this puts a new spin on "if looks could kill".
Heh.
And man, this was so very very satisfying to read.
They were So closed to becoming Vitrified, instead of Vetruvian.
11197240
I'm a chef, and I'd like to expand on this a little. A cook who has cause and a good mind can turn any kitchen into a fortress. The fire and knives are obvious, but add flour to that and you have a fuel-air bomb. Boiling oil is an option. Not to mention the possibilities offered by such things as fugu or, for ponies, bracken'ed water. Cerea's espresso rig could probably be set up to supply some nasty burns as well.
So, the point is, heaven help them if Emery gets to the kitchen.
11197246
To those downvoting this one: if Estee took some inspiration from 1/6 for this description of a civilian invasion of a major government building, that's only to be expected; we don't often get examples of that in the modern age, especially not so well documented in real time. Disagree with the politics if you want, but the parallels are obviously there.
Methinks Luna had some fun with illusions and her affinity for cold.
11197448
Madame Kovarian: "The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules."
The Doctor: "Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many.”
11197074
Don't you mean "put thy horse in order"?
11197693
Naw, her little horses are soon to be most disordered.
👍👍
11197521
Just having Chocolate Bear around is going to be a nasty surprise for any attackers. Once he sees what the surgeon can do, Emery may well decide to tell him to just use his lightsaber to take off attacker hooves; they can tourniquet them once the rest have fled.
So we are going to see the Sisters let rip. Great - looking forward to this one.
11197762
Yup. Chocolate Bear is bad news.
Nice of her subjects to be of such service as to present Celestia with an outlet for her feelings, especially in a tight, confined space. Not especially *smart* of them, but then that was never really in their character anyway.
An excellent scene of the hidden side of Celestia rising to the surface to demonstrate to those ponies just how mistaken they are about the nature of Equestria and its leaders.
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If any of you haven't read the story A World of Matchsticks, you should.
11197800
Ah, I remember that one. The Superman monologue.
11197800
I have. I enjoyed it.
Yessss, the Princesses are about to show that even the saintly patience of the Sisters has limits.
I wonder how the media will spin this... on one hand, it's easy to twist Celestia reacting with force as "you see!? She's a tyrant!" On the other hand, their groups have been storming the palace. Literally. Real life precedent has shown that the ones in the palace now are about to be thrown under the bus by their supposed friends in their respective organizations.
'Being out the Generals.'
Cue the music!
11197782
thumbs.gfycat.com/GiganticMiserlyHuemul-max-1mb.gif
Holy shit.
The righteous anger of Celestia, not a good thing to provoke when you are in punching range.
11197448
iirc, machiavelie said to only use fear if you can't be loved.
"impact on her outward-learned shoulder"
"impact on her outward-leaned shoulder"?
"and yet it was as somepony else had"
"and yet it was as if somepony else had"?
"her.
Considerably"
Was that extra line break supposed to be there?
Thanks for writing, Estee!
11197168
"She obviously doesn't enjoy hurting ponies, but they've left her no choice."
Not quite that, as I read it. She indeed doesn't enjoy it...
"She had to calm herself, while doing everything possible to avoid so much as a single moment of personal satisfaction. Wanting to do it again was right out."
...But by active effort, not naturally. As for why, I assume it's partly just her morality. Her views on what counts as good government for someone in her position. And the like.
But, also, remember that in this universe, that which turned Luna into Nightmare Moon is not unique to Luna. Twilight had a close encounter with her own equivalent back in Triptych. And...
"a voice they didn't recognize, one where the harmonics had been distorted, deepened"
"She spoke as familiar purple eyes were suffused with a foreign hue, and her voice was just barely her own."
This is quoting another author, writing in a different universe, but I suspect it, or something like it, might be applicable here too:
Source: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/299424/wedding-march
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:shrugs:
My copy of the book. Sorry.
(Now, granted, you also have to take the circumstances of the writing of the book into account. It wasn't really...uncoerced, if you get my drift. So take it with salt.)
11199526
It occurs to me that the Diarchy pivots on the phrase "because it is difficult to unite them in one person".
11200002
:nods: That it does. And they seems to be aware of the Sauron trap.
11197521
Think I might have missed what bracken is?