Sunken Horizons

by Goldenwing

XX: Of Sedition

Anatami woke to the painful prodding of hooves around her wounds. Her eyes snapped open as she rounded on the offender with a hiss, and the mare that had been leaning over her stumbled back in shock.

She was lying on a bedroll absent of any stuffing, just one of many sprawled throughout the long tent around her. Ponies bustled around the tent, coats shining with the sweat of exertion, fussing over orange-liveried soldiers while barking orders and reports over their heads. Ana looked down, noting the bandages that had been wrapped around her shoulder and barrel, binding her injured wing to her side.

Guess I lucked out.

She looked back up to the mare that had been treating her, narrowing her eyes. The mare was young, her pastel pink coat blending well with the blood speckling her cheeks. “Where’s Titus?”

“U-uhm.” The mare gaped, mouth flopping uselessly. “I…”

Ana grunted as she climbed to her hooves, pushing the painful complaints of her body aside. “I need to speak to the Duke. Where is he?”

The mare refused to meet Ana’s eyes, shivering and cringing as the thestral let out an exasperated sigh. She looked around, searching for a more senior pony that might be able to help her, only to blink in surprise as Duke Titus stepped into the tent.

His face was dirty, the hairs matted down by a grungy mixture of dried mud speckled with old blood, and he wore a full set of chainmail under his usual breastplate, supplemented by more plating around his shoulders and barrel. Small scratches and dents adorned his armor, and although the steel had lost the polished sheen it once carried, his eyes seemed sharper than ever.

He focused in on her quickly, closing the distance with no regard for the healers ducking out of his way. “Mooncursed. My sergeant tells me he found ye passed out next t’ th’ wreck of a Friesland scout ship.” He towered over her, mouth turned down into a stern frown. “A report I find quite disturbin’, on account of Whitehorn’s promises that I’d not have t’ deal with yer treacheries.”

Ana met his gaze coolly, straightening up in spite of her wounds. “Trust me, my Lord, your siege camp is the last place I want to be right now.”

“And yet hear ye are,” Titus growled. “Betrayed ’im already? I warned ’im against workin’ with one such as ye, but that unicorn’s convinced he always knows everythin’.”

Ana smirked. “Fortunately, I find myself here on his request. With your blessing, I’d appreciate it if I could be on my way back to Friesland.”

“And how can I know ye ain’t plannin’ on causin’ some chaos fer me th’ instant I let ye out of my sight?” Titus asked, narrowing his eyes.

Ana rolled her eyes. I guess it would be more surprising than not if he actually took my word for it. She looked around, spotting her satchel left on the ground beside her bedroll, and picked it up. “I have here several examples of writing from one of Nettlekiss’s scribes—” she paused, leaning in and lowering her voice “—as well as a copy of her seal.”

Titus arched a brow. He sat down, snatching the satchel away and flipping it open so he could peer inside, eyes widening as he verified her story. “Does she know?”

“Hard to say,” Ana said. “I was detected within her keep, but I expect the scribe I stole it from will be loath to admit she lost it, so the Duchess may assume I was an assassin. Either way, it’s only a matter of time.”

Titus nodded, shoving the satchel roughly back into Ana’s hooves. “Friesland, ye say? What’s that weasel Whitehorn gettin’ at?”

Ana shrugged. “He’s got the whole city on edge. I think he intends to turn the commoners against Nettlekiss, and maybe start some kind of revolt.”

“A revolt, eh?” Titus nodded again, his frown pulling up into a small grin. “It’s fittin’ I suppose, that those too-clever Frieslanders be done in by a pony like ‘im. As long as he leaves some blood fer baron blades, that is.” He looked away, brow furrowing. “I’ll have ye on a wagon t’ th’ city within th’ hour, along with one of my messengers.” He narrowed his eyes, shooting her a sideways glare. “And if I hear ye’ve meddled in his affairs, I don’t care what Whitehorn says, I’ll have yer head.”

Ana grinned, baring her fangs. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

---

Rainbow Dash paused, her raised hoof hovering just inches away from Sea Sabre’s door.

What was she doing? She had to be insane, coming freely with the truth of what she’d done. She could still hide it, couldn’t she? She had the uniform Sea Sabre had given her, and although the other mare might question her suddenly starting to wear it everywhere, it should be simple enough to pass it off for some innocuous reason.

The Argo ticked at her thoughtfully as she lowered her hoof, ears drooping.

Applejack sighed to her left, stepped up, and pounded a hoof against the door. Rainbow’s eye shot wide open as she rounded on her friend, speaking in a low hiss. “AJ, what the hay!”

Applejack just shrugged. Rainbow’s pulse quickened at the sound of muffled hoofsteps on metal inside the room, and an instant later the door swung open.

Sea Sabre regarded them with her cool, impassive gaze. “Rainbow Dash. Applejack.”

Applejack tipped her hat, and Rainbow forced a tight smile. “H-hey, Sabre.”

To her surprise, Sabre’s lips pulled up into a small smile of her own. “Welcome back. Feeling better?”

“I, uh—” Rainbow glanced to her left, taking some strength from Applejack’s encouraging smile. “Can we talk in private?”

“Both of you?” Sabre arched a brow as she looked between them. “Very well. Come in.”

Rainbow could barely hear her thoughts as she crossed the threshold. The click of Applejack closing the door behind them rang in her ears like a gunshot. Sabre’s room was as barren as ever; a cloth had been spread out over the bed, her wingblades spread out upon it next to a small bottle of oil.

Sabre sat next to the bed, grabbing a smaller cloth and beginning to push it down the length of one of the blades. “I’m guessing this is about Twilight Sparkle?”

“Uh…” Rainbow choked, her mouth flopping uselessly as she failed to get any words out. What was she supposed to say? Her heart pounded against her chest, mimicking her own desire for escape. Maybe she could still get out of this, make some excuse and drag Applejack out of the room before—

“Rainbow here’s got somethin’ she needs to tell y’all, Sabre,” Applejack said firmly.

Sabre paused in her work for only a second. Her ear flicked to the side as she started again, not looking up. “I’m listening.”

Rainbow grimaced as she shot a pleading look towards her friend, but the cowpony just pursed her lips and shook her head. She was standing squarely in front of the door, blocking off any escape.

The seconds stretched on into minutes. Sabre continued diligently servicing her wingblades, and when she finally spoke, her calm voice made Rainbow jump in surprise.

“How are you feeling?”

Rainbow found herself unable to look at her. “W-what do you mean?”

“You seem tense. And not in the way you usually are,” Sabre said.

Rainbow sighed as she found a spot of bare wall and leaned heavily against it. She was silent for a moment, watching the calm, measured motions of Sabre’s hooves. “I… did something.”

Sabre stopped. She set her rubbing cloth aside and turned around, facing Rainbow fully. “Tell me.”

“I, uh…” Rainbow ran a hoof through her mane as she looked away, licking her lips. Why was this so hard? She’d done the right thing, hadn’t she? She’d been so certain in the moment of it, and even when she had to face Applejack. She’d woken from her brief nap feeling refreshed, feeling proud. So why was it that now she suddenly felt like she’d done something wrong?

She looked to Applejack, receiving a small smile in return. She wasn’t alone.

Taking a deep breath and setting her jaw, Rainbow straightened up and met Sabre’s gaze. She thought back to the way Silverblood had grinned at her in his last moments, so cocksure that he was safe in his wealth, and her voice came out clear and confident. “I killed Silverblood.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment Sabre was so still that Rainbow wondered if the mare had even heard her.

“You what?”

Rainbow stiffened. Sabre’s eyes bored into her, carrying an intensity she’d only seen once before—right after she discovered Dusty Tome’s dead body.

But Rainbow didn’t flinch. “I killed him.”

Sabre stood up and stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. “When? He saw us off from the Orichalcum himself.”

“Well, I flew back!” Rainbow spat. Sabre’s eyes widened, her brow hardening at the same time, and Rainbow rushed to explain. “It wasn’t my plan, okay?! I was just stretching my wings like I said, but I ended up back around his ship, and he was right there!” She tossed her mane as she remembered it all, nostrils flaring. “He smiled at me!”

“You killed him for smiling at you?” Sabre’s voice was quiet, but it carried a tense fury that conveyed just as much weight as a full-bodied shout.

“No!” Rainbow snarled. She closed the distance between them, stabbing her hoof into Sabre’s chest. “I killed him for putting a bounty on my friends! I killed him for driving Twilight mad! I killed him—” she jabbed the hoof up at her eyepatch “—for taking my eye! And I don’t regret it!”

For a long moment neither mare said anything. Rainbow’s chest heaved as she stared Sabre down, waiting for some furious outburst to meet her own.

“Applejack,” Sabre said curtly. “Leave us.”

“Now, hold on, I’m here to—”

“This is my ship!” Sabre roared, rounding on Applejack. “And the ponies on my ship follow my orders! Get! Out!”

Applejack flinched back. She glanced to Rainbow, who gave her a reassuring nod. Thanks, AJ, but this is something I have to face alone.

“I’ll be outside.” With another quick tip of her hat, Applejack slipped out into the hall and shut the door behind her.

The click of the door had barely faded when Sabre brought her glare back onto Rainbow. “What the fuck are you thinking?” she hissed, shoving her muzzle into Rainbow’s face. “After everything we’ve done for you? This is how you repay us?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Sabre!” Rainbow seethed back. “He hurt my friends, and he was laughing in our face about it! I couldn’t just do nothing!”

“I don’t understand?!” Sabre echoed. “Of all the ponies on this ship, I am the only one who understands!”

Rainbow blinked. “What?”

“I took you on because I saw myself in you!” Sabre spat. “Because you and I share the same drive to protect our ponies from anything that might ever think to harm them, to carry them through the fire and take the burns onto ourselves, and I wanted to help you before you got yourself killed!

“I understand exactly why you killed that sad excuse for a pony, but you’re not an island, Rainbow Dash! Your actions have an effect on the ponies around you, and in case you haven’t noticed—” she jabbed her hoof into Rainbow’s chest with each word, harder every time “—you’re—on—my—ship!”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “But you didn’t do anything! It was all me, and they saw it!”

“I told them you were on my crew, Rainbow!” Sabre slapped at Rainbow’s ear with her hoof, making her flinch back. “Crazy Rich is helping you on his own whims, and you’ve repaid him by assassinating a business partner in his name!”

Rainbow blanched. Her hind legs dropped out under her as the true weight of her actions finally caught up to her. “But I—I didn’t mean to—”

Sabre grit her teeth as she turned away, pacing across the room. “Why are you doing this to me, Rainbow? I worked hard to get where I am! I had a fucking good contract, an employer that gave me everything I needed to keep my ponies alive, and he let me operate without sticking his nose where it didn’t belong! And now?” She scoffed, tail flicking sharply behind her. “I’m done! Once word of this gets to Heighton, the fucking accountants that keep Crazy’s estate together would make sure of it! They’re always looking for excuses to cut costs!”

Sabre kicked at the wall with a hind leg, denting the metal, and the loud bang shook Rainbow from her shock. “So what are we gonna do?”

“You are doing nothing!” Sabre spat. “I am turning this ship around. This operation is over!”

“Wait, what?” A chill ran down Rainbow’s spine as Sabre turned and flung her door open, the edge hitting the wall behind it. “Y-you can’t do that!”

“I can do anything I want, Rainbow!” Sabre didn’t look back as she stormed out into the hall. “It’s my fucking ship!”

Rainbow grimaced as she gave chase, skidding to a stop at the sight of Applejack in shock after Sabre stalking down the hall.

The cowpony looked to Rainbow with wide eyes. “How’s she takin’ it?”

“She wants to turn around, AJ!” Rainbow jabbed an accusing hoof out. “She wants to ditch Twilight, and it’s your fault!”

Applejack gave her a tight-lipped frown. “Rainbow Dash, I love ya to death, but I ain’t the one that went out killin’ ponies, and I don’t take kindly to ya puttin’ the blame for the fallout on me. That mare’s got every right to leave us dry, but we’re just gonna have to do our best to convince her otherwise.”

Applejack turned, starting after Sabre without waiting for any response, and Rainbow had no choice but to follow. They trotted down the stairs to the lower level, following the sharp sound of hoofsteps towards the crew’s quarters.

Sabre was pounding on the door to Star Trails’ room as she came into sight. “Trails! Report!”

Rainbow and Applejack were just coming to a stop behind Sabre when the doorknob glowed with the pale blue of Trails’ magic. The door swung open, revealing Trails lying prone on a thickly blanketed bed, an old comic book splayed out over her forelegs and hoof-drawn star charts pinned on the wall behind her.

“What the hay, boss?” Trails asked, ears perked up in alarm. “What’s up?”

“We’re turning back,” Sabre said sharply. “Plot a course to Baltimare.”

“Wh—Baltimare?” Trails frowned as she slid out of bed. “What about Twilight?”

“That’s not our problem anymore!” Sabre snapped. “Now carry out your orders!”

The pegasus stormed off, leaving Trails blinking in surprise. She looked between Rainbow and Applejack in obvious confusion. “What the hay happened, guys? We’re almost there!”

Applejack looked to Rainbow, who let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, uh, remember how I flew off after you told us about those bounties?”

Trails frowned. “Yeah.”

“So I kinda ran across the Orichalcum while I was out there,” Rainbow said, bracing herself. “And one thing led to another, and I, uh, killed Silverblood.”

Trails blinked. She looked to Applejack with a nervous grin, only for the expression to fall away as she saw the grim frown on the other mare’s face. “Oh, stars. You’re not kidding.”

Rainbow sighed. “Yeah. I’m not.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Trails galloped past them, shouting after Sabre. “Wait, Sabre! What are we doing?”

Exchanging a quick glance with Applejack, Rainbow gave chase. They caught up to Sabre standing in front of the door to the cargo hold, Trails skidding a stop in front of her.

“You should be on the bridge, Trails,” Sabre snapped. “Or did I stutter?”

“No, no, I heard you, but I just—what’s going on here?” Trails gestured towards the cargo hold with a hoof. “We’re bringing Princess Luna to Baltimare? Those freaks’ll cut her to pieces!”

“Well we certainly aren’t taking her back to Heighton,” Sabre seethed, straightening up and staring Star Trails down. “Our contract won’t survive this, Trails. The Rich Estate will send a repo team to take the Argo, and we’ll have bounty hunters after us over Silverblood. If we want to keep it or our lives, we need someone to protect us. Baltimare is always looking for salvage crews, and we can trade Luna for a fair contract. It’s our best chance.”

“Damnit, Sabre, she’s not some mindless artefact you can pawn off to the highest bidder!” Trails pursed her lips as she spread her stance. “That’s Princess Luna, and the only way we’re gonna save her from whatever she’s suffering is taking her north, like Twilight told us!”

Sabre frowned, her voice taking on a dangerous edge. “Are you refusing my order?”

The door to the galley opened from the top of the stairs, and all eyes turned to see Flintlock squinting down at them. “What th’ buck is all this shoutin’ about, eh?”

“Sabre wants to sell the Princess to Baltimare!” Trails blurted.

Flint looked to Sabre, brow furrowing. “Boss?”

“Our contract with Rich is done, Flint,” Sabre explained calmly. “Rainbow Dash doubled back and killed Silverblood, and word will reach Rich about it long before we do. Princess Luna is our best chance at a good contract elsewhere.”

Flint blinked, turning to Rainbow. “Ye killed th’ bastard?”

Unlike everyone else, Flint actually sounded more impressed than anything. Still, Rainbow had the presence of mind to answer him with a grimace. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, fuck me, Dash, ye already had my respect, but if ye keep this up ye might get my admiration, too.”

“Flint!” Sabre barked.

“Aye, alright.” Flint shrugged as he started down the stairs. “Hope ye don’t mind if I squeeze past. Thinkin’ I’ll take a nap and let all this blow over.”

“Stay, Flint.” Sabre pursed her lips, her wings hovering an inch from her sides. “Trails, stand down. And you two—” the pegasus narrowed her eyes “—do not try to interfere with the running of my ship.”

Applejack shook her head with a sigh. “Sabre, y’all know I respect ya. If it wasn’t for me, RD probably wouldn’t have even told ya what she did. Can’t we all just simmer down and talk this out civil-like, without snippin’ at each other’s ears?”

Sabre stomped a hoof. “This is not a democracy, and this is not a discussion!”

“Boss, c’mon.” Trails stepped closer, offering up an uneasy smile. “You can’t be serious about this. Selling the Princess? That’s straight out of some comic villain’s playbook!”

“This isn’t some comic book where you can draw a clean line between heroes and villains, Trails. This is real life!” Sabre flared her wings as Flint came to a stop at her side, lending his imposing bulk to her words. “I’ve never once put anything ahead of my ponies, and I’m sure as Tartarus not starting now!”

“But why not?” Trails asked. “There’s only ever been two princesses, Sabre, and we’re their ponies. I get your priorities—I love being on your crew, right? I know you always do everything you can to take care of us. But that sleepy alicorn in there needs us, and if we let her down, Equestria will never have a chance like this again.”

“I am not her little pony,” Sabre growled. “Neither she nor her sister ever did anything to help me or the ponies I cared about. Every pony in my platoon that went home alive, they did it because of me!” She stepped forwards, pushing her snarling muzzle into Trails’ face. “An alicorn has never once answered anypony’s prayers, Star Trails! We don’t owe her a damn thing!”

Rainbow’s ears went flat against her head, anger swelling inside her at the blatant disrespect for the Princess, and before she knew it Flintlock was holding her back, his big legs wrapped around her chest while her wings beat vainly against the air.

“How dare you talk about the Princesses like that!” Rainbow screamed. “Of course they’ve never answered any of your prayers! Luna’s been sleeping at the bottom of the ocean for centuries, and I know for a fact that Celestia must be trapped somewhere too, because she’d never leave Equestria hanging!”

“Ach, get yer mare under control, Jackie!” Flint winced as her wings buffeted against his shoulders. “She’s got th’ fire of a phoenix pissin’ hot sauce!”

“Cool it, RD!” Applejack called. “We’re tryin’ to avoid a fight, remember?”

Rainbow growled in frustration as she felt Applejack bite down on her tail, helping Flint wrestle her out of the air. “It’s ponies like you that’re the problem, Sabre! The Princesses would do anything to help Equestria if they could, but this time, they’re the ones that need help, and if you’re willing to sell her out just to save your own skin, then you’re no better than Silverblood!”

“No better than Silverblood?” Sabre’s lip twitched back as she shook her head. “So what’s your plan, Rainbow Dash? Kill the entire crew of the Argo? Because that’s what you’ll have to if you want to override my orders.”

Trails stepped in front of her, hooves clasped together pleadingly. “Sabre, I’ve never once turned down an order from you, but just this once, when we’ve got the fate of an alicorn hanging in the balance, don’t you think you could ask us what we want?”

Sabre frowned down at the unicorn, ignoring Rainbow’s continued struggles. “Trails, don’t you understand how much danger she’s put us in?”

“Yes!” Trails gave an emphatic nod. “Yes, I get it! She’s a hothead, and she’s got no self-control, and just because nearly everyone else around Silverblood was constantly daydreaming about doing him in doesn’t make our position any better—even if he probably deserved it.”

Rainbow’s ears perked up at that, and she stopped struggling, Applejack and Flint both falling back with sighs of relief. “Thank you!”

Trails didn’t look back. “But we’ve been in dangerous places before. We’ve risked our lives before, right? Plenty of times! You always bring us back!”

Sabre shook her head. “Those were jobs, Trails. It’s not the same thing.”

“So, what, you’re okay with us risking our lives exploring ruins so we can bring magic trinkets back home for Crazy to show off to his friends, but now that we have an alicorn princess relying on us to wake her up it’s too much?” Trails offered a tentative grin. “We can be heroes, Sabre! We can change the world!”

For a moment, Sabre was silent. When she finally did speak, her voice was calm and measured. “And what if it doesn’t work? What am I supposed to do if we return to Equestria empty-hooved, with repo crews and bounty hunters watching every island in the north?”

“Honestly, Sabre?” Trails shrugged. “Ponies don’t usually retire from this career as it is. I’d rather meet my end trying to save a Princess than at the hooves of some lucky seapony guarding a piece of salvage.”

Sabre frowned down at Trails for several seconds, saying nothing, and Rainbow found herself holding her breath. She exchanged a nervous glance with Applejack before looking back.

If it came down to it, Rainbow decided, she just hoped Sabre would give up before things went too far.

Finally, Sabre looked away. “Flint?”

“Aye, boss?”

“What do you think about this?”

“Eh, Traily’s right that we’re on borrowed time. And as fer us two?” Flint snorted. “Considerin’ what we’ve survived, I figure maybe we owe th’ Princess a favor or two.” He quirked his lips, eyes unfocusing. “And I bet she could find us a whole heap of salvage.”

Sabre let out a tired sigh. Her wings drooped down at her sides, and for a brief moment she swayed as if exhausted.

The moment was gone as fast as it came. Rainbow blinked, and Sabre was back like she was always—firm stance, sharp eyes, and hard voice. “I’ll check with Sunfeather, then. And if she agrees, we can continue north.”

A collective breath of relief passed over the assembled ponies. Rainbow broke out into a wide grin, and she was just getting ready to jump up and cheer when Sabre fixed her with a harsh glare.

“Don’t. I’m not doing this for you.” Sabre shuffled her wings as she turned away. “Your training with me is over. You can keep the wingblades.” She stalked away, following the hall and turning out of sight.

As soon she was gone, Trails slumped against the nearest wall, running a hoof through her mane. “Sweet Luna, Rainbow, could you have possibly done anything more monumentally scuffed?”

Rainbow frowned. “I thought you said he deserved it!”

“Oh, hush.” Applejack raised a hoof and smacked at Rainbow’s ear, drawing a startled yelp. “Y’all ain’t off the hook with me, either.”

Flint let out a low chuckle. “Don’t be too hard on th’ mare, Jackie. Ain’t nobody gonna miss that grinnin’ bastard.”

“So I guess we’re doing this, huh?” Trails asked, looking between them all. “Usually when salvage crews dig something up that ends their career, it’s cause they’re all dead.”

“We appreciate ya, Trails,” Applejack said. “I hate to even think about what mighta gone down if y’all weren’t here to talk Sabre down.”

Trails grinned. “Hey, I used to daydream about meeting a Princess when I was a filly, y’know. If I really had to choose a side today, I’m not even sure where I’d stand.”

“Well, I’m done standin’ around gripin’,” Flint grumbled, turning and starting back up the stairs. “Any of ye want some drinks? Got another keg of family cider back on th’ Orichalcum. Might be th’ last one I find fer a while, but I figure goin’ rogue and decidin’ t’ go on some fancy quest is worth poppin’ it open.”

Trails straightened up, following after him. “Oh, I’m so there.”

Rainbow was left alone with Applejack at the base of the stairs. She looked to her friend, offering up a strained grin. “Guess it all worked out, huh?”

“No thanks to y’all, I reckon.” Applejack sighed, shaking her head. “Somethin’ tells me Sabre’s the kinda mare to hold a grudge on somethin’ like this, but I’m done talkin’ about it for now. Let’s go get some cider.” She walked up the stairs, following Flint and Trails down the hall towards the galley.

Rainbow hesitated for just a moment, glancing back to the cargo hold. “Don’t worry, Princess,” she whispered. “There’s a few ponies left in Equestria that have your back.”

Taking a deep breath, Rainbow followed the sounds of chatter already drifting from the galley. She still had to get her practice in for the day, but at that moment what she really wanted more than anything was a good drink, and to relax with friends.

---

The mining colony had gone deathly silent.

If not for the information from her pinging, Twilight might’ve thought that she’d been too late. The halls were marred by the gaping entry wounds left behind by the tunneling spiders. Twisted steel and brass blocked the path in many places, and loose rubble strewn along the floor made it difficult to walk with ease. Where before the screams of ponies and the shrieks of spiders had echoed off the rock, now there was only the constant hissing of steam and the trickling of water.

She frowned as she looked down, her hornlight reflecting off the thin stream of water coursing over the stone under the metal grid of the floor. She could smell the blood mixed into it, dripping down from the dismembered bodies left abandoned in dark corners. The pumps—the steady breathing of the mountain that had first entranced her on her arrival—sounded different.

The mountain is flooding.

Midnight said nothing.

They could have teleported across the entire colony in an instant, but Twilight felt that doing so may only further frighten the miners. It also would have felt wrong, somehow, to fling herself through the arcane, to blink past the death and destruction caused by her presence as if it wasn’t even there. So they crossed the colony on hoof, and Twilight made sure not to shy away from the ruin waiting for her behind every corner.

Even on hoof, it didn’t take long for them to climb the nearest stairwell. She paused on the landing, turning back to Scylla. Stay here.

The spider stared at her blankly. Twilight took a few experimental steps backwards before nodding to herself, satisfied that her message had been conveyed.

The halls on the top floor were dark and craggy, without any of the metal panels or piping that were such a constant throughout the rest of the colony. If not for the bits of old refuse left in the corners—broken lamps, scattered shards of clay, and rusted tools—there would be no way to tell ponies lived here.

There were only a few rooms on this level, all attached to a single hallway, and all but one was empty. She stopped before the door, looking down at the small band of light flickering beneath it. With a glance towards Midnight, she summoned a shield, raised her hoof, and pushed the door open.

“Fire!”

Thunder filled her ears, and Twilight winced back at the spray of lead that bounced off her shield. A line of six ponies carrying bulky shields rushed through the gunsmoke, followed with a second line pointing long spears between the front ranks, and Twilight frowned as the weapons cracked and shattered on impact with her shield.

The miners stumbled to a stop, those in the front regarding their broken spears with wide eyes while those in the back raced to reload spent guns.

Midnight stalked across the line with a disdainful sneer. A pitiful effort.

Twilight arched a brow. You’re not upset? I’d have thought you’d be calling for blood by now.

Normally, yes. Midnight smirked, giving Twilight a sideways look. But we cannot coerce corpses into friendship.

Twilight blinked. Although that wasn’t exactly the right idea, she supposed it was an improvement.

She turned her attention back to the assembled miners, taking in their frightened expressions. The room was wide but low, and she could see ponies hiding in the dark corners to either side, probably thinking she couldn’t see them. The only light came from a few lamps hung from posts stabbed into the walls.

Twilight kept her eyes forward as she offered a tentative smile. “It’s safe now. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

They exchanged nervous glances amongst each other in silence. Behind the line, Twilight heard somepony curse as they dropped something.

“Is Peony Burrows available?” she asked, raising her voice. “Or maybe Bag End?”

“Go away!” One stallion brandished the jagged tip of his broken spear at her. “You’ve done enough!”

Midnight stepped up to the stallion, looking into his eyes. Perhaps we could kill just one. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.

Twilight pursed her lips. She was just considering how best to phrase her apology and farewell when a commotion from further into the room caught her attention.

Bag End stepped around the line, followed by Peony Burrows. He had a lamp hanging from a small clip on the side of his belt. “Let’s talk outside.”

Twilight smiled. “Of course.”

She stepped out of the doorway, holding it open with her magic to allow the two ponies to follow her through. Peony eyed the glowing door with open suspicion, while Bag End seemed to be tired more than anything else.

Twilight went to close the door, only for Peony to jar it open with a hind leg. “Don’t close it.”

“O-oh, okay.” Twilight stepped back a respectful distance before letting her magic fizzle out. The only light came from Bag End’s lamp, a small sphere of washed out color in Twilight’s otherwise ashen world. Midnight stood in the background, its purple eyes glowing with reflected light.

“What do you want from us?” Peony asked, her eyes hard.

Twilight grimaced. “I just want to help. I’ve sent the spiders away, so you don’t have to hide up here anymore.”

“Oh, you’ve sent the spiders away, huh?” Peony snorted. “Excuse me if I don’t trip over myself to thank you for only killing some of us.”

“It was an accident!” Twilight sat down with a heavy sigh, hanging her head. “I… I didn’t mean for anypony to be hurt.”

“What you mean makes little difference for our dead,” Peony said coldly. “What do we have to do to make you leave us alone?”

“If you want me to go, just ask and—”

“Go!” Peony stomped a hoof. “And never come back.”

She whipped around, her tail flicking out, and shoved the door open. She disappeared through it, leaving Midnight standing in her place.

As I expected.

Strangely, Twilight felt only a detached disappointment. Maybe this was the outcome she’d been expecting all along. Had it been foolish of her to hope that these ponies would show any gratitude for saving them from a threat she herself had caused? That they’d show anything but disdain?

Yes, it was, and she didn’t need Midnight to tell her that. She’d known since she first found these ponies, in those thoughts that she hadn’t dared put into words, that this was the only outcome. She wasn’t like them, and this attempt at reliving her old existence, however forced and impossible it would’ve been, had always been doomed to fail.

Twilight looked up Bag End, who was watching her with a thoughtful frown. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “I believe you.”

Twilight gave him a small smile, and for once she didn’t cringe back at the way his eyes darted down to her fangs. Was she accepting her fate, or just growing numb to it? “Some of the pipes are broken, and I noticed the water’s flowing back in. I could help you fix it.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” He shook his head. “It’ll be rough, but the maintenance team can jury rig a solution for now. Corporate will send engineers to handle the rest.” He shrugged, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “It’ll probably be the first upgrade this facility’s had since it was built.”

“Are you sure?” Twilight asked. “I understand you wouldn’t want my help, but if you make any mistakes…”

“We can evacuate the colony if we have to.” Bag End sighed as he turned to the door, looking back at her over his shoulder. “I don’t know how you got in, but I trust you can find your way out. Thanks for not leavin’ us to die, I guess.”

He slipped out of the hall, taking his light with him. Twilight was left alone, surrounded by dark stone, with only Midnight’s bloodied lavender coat to break the ashen greyscale of her mutated vision.

Midnight eyed her with a level gaze. We should go.

Yes, I suppose we should. Twilight’s horn glowed as she stood, and she reached a hoof up to feel at the cold metal of Celestia’s tiara slung around her neck. The Frozen North awaits.

---

The siege camp around Friesland had grown significantly since the last time Ana saw it.

Tents and banners littered the hillsides, protected from the wind by their bulk. A crunchy layer of snow covered the ground, piled up into miniature walls around the tents and the most trafficked paths. Thin white powder swirled through the air, kicked up by marching soldiers and carried by the wind to sting at Ana’s eyes, and the sound of shouted orders competed with the rhythmic bass of marching hooves and the sharp clatters and clangs of the smiths and the carpenters hard at work. Banners and colored tents demarcated the borders between the encamped armies, with the soldiers mostly keeping to themselves, but there were some places where they mixed.

One such place was the long healer’s tent near the middle of the camp, pitched next to the paved road that led through the thin line of trees to the west and towards the besieged city. It was bigger than it had been before, but no less busy; she watched as a pony pulled a small wagon laden with supplies up to the side, only for it to be emptied in seconds by a swarm of nurses.

Ana frowned. Was that a bear lumbering out of the tent?

She shook her head, setting the matter aside. If she wasn’t hallucinating from blood loss and it actually was a bear, then she wanted to get in and get herself seen to before it came back.

She made for the tent at a brisk trot, nosing through the closed flaps and narrowing her eyes as she searched for a healer to attend to her. She wanted someone experienced, unlikely to balk at her appearance, and quick enough that she could be on her way without too much delay. She had a deadline to meet, and she couldn’t afford to miss it.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?”

Ana stiffened. She recognized that soft, fluttery voice, and she wanted nothing to do with it. She walked away from it as if she hadn’t heard, pulling her cloak tighter. Maybe if she moved fast enough—

“Wait!” With the soft flap of wings, Fluttershy landed in front of her. Her long pink mane had been tied up into a messy bun, and she was wearing a white apron with faded red stains worn into the fabric. “Your bandages need to be—oh. Um.”

Ana grimaced as Fluttershy finally recognized her. “Don’t worry. I’ll find someone else.”

Fluttershy took a deep breath and gave a firm shake of her head. “No. Your bandages are already soaked through! Come with me, please.”

“Look, I really don’t have time to—” Ana sighed as the pegasus grabbed her hoof, hauling her off to an unoccupied bedroll. Ana tried to pull her hoof free, but the mare had a grip like iron.

“That’s okay.” Fluttershy gave Ana a small smile as she began to prod at her wounds with her other hoof. “I can be quick. Undress, please.”

Ana wanted to protest further, but there was something in the mare’s tone that had her complying almost before she realized. She sighed as she shrugged her cloak off, and then her satchel, weighed down with her arcata and the food she’d taken from Titus’s camp. Next came the straps of her freshly mended vest, revealing her coal grey coat and the soiled cloth already coming loose around her wounds. It would probably be quicker if she just shut up and let Fluttershy work. She certainly didn’t seem to be as hesitant or fidgety as Ana had expected.

Ana kept her eyes forward, wincing only slightly as Fluttershy began to tug the dirty cloth free. “Why are you helping me?”

“You’re hurt,” Fluttershy said. “Somepony has to help you, so why not me?”

Ana blinked. She looked down, but Fluttershy was focused on her work. “Aren’t you worried about what I’m doing? For all you know, I could be here to kill you.”

Fluttershy hummed quietly as she bundled the spent bandages up and set them aside before grabbing a small cloth, dipping it into a nearby bucket of water, and began to dab at Ana’s shoulder. “Is that what you’re here for?”

Ana snorted. “If I were, I wouldn’t tell you. And I’d wait for you to finish healing me before I did anything.”

Fluttershy paused. She pulled her cloth back, squeezing the collected blood out into the dirt before draping it over her bucket. She looked up, meeting Ana’s gaze with a stern frown. “Ana, what you do is wrong.”

Ana stiffened. Those hard blue eyes held her in place with as much steel as any shackle. Where did this cold fire come from? Where was the shivering pegasus that had been willing to do anything she asked without resistance, even if it meant carrying her own friends into a bounty hunter’s cell?

She felt an uncomfortable twinge in her gut.

“You hurt so many innocent ponies,” Fluttershy continued. “My friends saved your life, put their trust in you, and you repaid them with violence. That’s not very fair to them, is it?”

Ana’s jaw tightened. Was she being lectured now, like some unruly foal? “You wouldn’t understand.”

Fluttershy sighed. “Maybe I wouldn’t. But if you’re willing to talk, I’m willing to listen.”

Ana cocked her head, taken aback by the sincerity in the mare’s voice. Is she actually asking me for an explanation? What’s she playing at?

Fluttershy grabbed the cloth back out of the bucket, wringing the water from it with both hooves. “Could you lie back, please? I need to clean the wound on your belly.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ana complied, lying on her back so the pegasus could gently scrub at the gunshot wound on her barrel. Fluttershy began to hum once more, cleaning the wound with soft but firm pressure.

Ana took it all in with a thoughtful frown. How could the same mare who had been shaming her seconds ago now tend her wounds as if she were some filly with a scraped fetlock, and not a lying monster that had betrayed those she held most dear without remorse?

Ana felt a knot form in her chest, and it wasn’t from her wounds. The Countess had made her that beautiful dress even in spite of her resistance, and even if Pinkie had been annoying at times, they’d both always taken her side whenever someone had looked down on her for what she was. They’d been kind to her. They’d been stupidly kind, and she’d made sure they paid for it, because kindness like that couldn’t be real. It had to be a lie, some facade erected in service of selfish pursuits, and so Ana had lied back without hesitation.

But now, as Ana listened to the quiet, content melody of Fluttershy’s voice, she had to wonder—maybe it was all real. Maybe she was lying to the only honest ponies in Equestria.

“I’m helping your friends.”

“Hmm?” Fluttershy wrung the bloodied water from the cloth and set it aside, grabbing a roll of fresh gauze.

“That’s why I’m here,” Ana said. It felt odd to tell the truth without any prompting, for its own sake. “I’m going back into the city, to help them stop the siege.”

“Oh. That’s good to hear.”

Ana’s frown persisted. She believes me, just like that? Surely she should ask some questions, ask for proof, at least pry for more details to try and catch Ana out in a lie. But no, she just kept humming, smiling as she applied a dressing to Ana’s wound and wrapped her barrel tightly in the gauze.

Ana said nothing as Fluttershy did the same to the wound on her shoulder before helping her back to her hooves. She didn’t even complain when the pegasus helped her don her clothes or stuffed a few more dressings into her satchel.

At last Fluttershy stepped back, giving her a warm smile. “Is there anything else you need?”

Ana’s mouth hung open for a few seconds before she found her voice. “No. Thank you.”

“Oh!” Fluttershy started, eyes widening. “I actually had a letter I wrote for my friends yesterday, but I couldn’t find anypony to deliver it for me. If you’re going back into the city, maybe you could do me the favor?” She looked around and flipped the flap open on a pair of saddlebags lying off to the side. She pulled a letter out, holding it up with a blush. “Um, if that’s okay with you?”

Ana shook her head. “You shouldn’t trust me with that.”

“Why not? You said you’re helping them, right?”

“Yes, but—” Ana stomped a hoof, raising her voice in anger. “You shouldn’t trust me!”

Fluttershy flinched back with a startled squeak, dropping her letter. “But—”

“No!” A pair of passing nurses shot them a watchful glare, so Ana lowered her voice into a sharp hiss. “Ponies that trust me get hurt, okay? And if I don’t hurt you, I’ll hurt someone you care about! I’m a liar, Fluttershy! Everything I’ve ever told your friends, all of it was a lie meant to get them to let their guard down! I could be doing the same thing to you right now!”

Fluttershy actually smiled. “You could be. But I think ponies deserve second chances.” She straightened up, picking the letter up and holding it out again. “If you take this letter, then you won’t have to lie the next time you see my friends. It might be hard, but I’m sure they’d forgive you, too.”

Ana slapped the letter away with a snarl. “If they did, it would only put them in more danger. You can deliver it yourself when the siege is lifted.”

Ana turned away sharply, but not before she caught a glimpse of the disappointment on Fluttershy’s face. She rushed out of the tent before the pegasus could say another word.

White powder drifted past her vision as she stepped out into the wind. Stupid pony. If she wants to get herself killed, she can do it without me.

She found a relatively sheltered spot next to a smith’s tent, and she allowed herself several minutes to indulge in a small lunch of dry bread and cider. It wasn’t an especially flavorful meal, and her thoughts lingered on the strange conversation as she ate. She had faced ponies she’d betrayed before, and they always greeted her with spite and disdain. She had learned to laugh off the hatred of ponies at a young age, and she found comfort in the knowledge that she could rely only on herself and her sister. The world was always against them. That was just the way things were.

But forgiveness? It didn’t fit into her reality. Even if a pony had never met her, they would know that forgiving her would only be an invitation for further exploitation. There were a few exceptions, yes, but they always learned quickly. Ana made certain of that.

She should’ve accepted the letter. She could’ve read it, maybe gleaned some useful information, and she could’ve used it to regain the Countess’s trust. It would’ve been the smart thing to do, and she always prided herself on being the smart sister.

But this time, the smart decision only filled her with disgust.

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away and focusing on her meal. By the time she finished she felt like herself again—cool, confident, and ready to spin the perfect lie at a moment’s notice.

The camp had grown agitated since her arrival, with troops cantering in every direction in armored columns. She fell in behind a squad clad in full sets of tarnished plate, short shoulder capes emblazoned with the image of a snarling dog.

The barons were staging for an attack on the city, and one that would hopefully be more successful than the few frontal assaults attempted in the early days of the siege. There was a buzz of tense confusion hanging in the air, and Ana couldn’t help but grin as she overheard a few soldiers muttering among themselves, questioning why the attack had been moved up a day.

It had been planned for tomorrow, but Ana’s arrival had changed that. The messenger that Titus had sent along with her had been very helpful.

Within a few minutes the squad she was following arrived at a wide hole that had been dug into the ground, the walls reinforced with strong beams of wood. The hole led to a steeply sloped tunnel, and the armored ponies were forced to slow their pace as they descended single file, taking each step with caution. Ana followed with patience as the tunnel delved deeper, and deeper still, until the only light came from the lamp held in the teeth of the sergeant leading the group.

The darkness didn’t bother her. Her slitted eyes could see even in the dim light, picking out the wooden reinforcements holding the dirt walls up as the slope leveled off. Ana could hear the collective breath of relief from the soldiers as she followed them, the tunnel just narrow enough that she couldn’t fully spread her wings. The air was thick and hot, and within seconds Ana could feel sweat beginning to build on her coat, matting the hairs into uncomfortable clumps. She could only imagine what it must be like wearing the heavy metal barding of the soldiers, but if the sound of their strained breath was any indication, it must feel like walking through Tartarus.

She wasn’t very familiar with siege warfare, but Countess Silkie had given her a quick primer on the subject. It was obvious that any assault across the fields surrounding the city, exposed to the devastating fire of the Frieslanders, would be a disastrous failure. While the baronlanders had kept up a token skirmishing force on the surface, the majority of their effort had been focused here, in the tunnels, where teams of sappers had worked day and night, fighting to close the gap between the army and its objective from underground.

The tunnel seemed to turn almost at random, sometimes sloping up or down for brief spans before leveling off again. Ana could only assume that they were still going mostly west; even only able to go forwards or back, she felt like she could get lost down here.

Her ears twitched at the sound of muted conversation ahead, and the tunnel widened out into a small chamber. A pair of sweaty, bare-coated stallions were squeezed up against one wall, greeting them with tired grins.

“Yer just in time, lads!” one said. “Charge goes in ten. Ye lot get right, line up ’n ready!”

The tunnel split into five branches, and the sergeant in front led the squad down the rightmost path. After perhaps another minute of walking they came to a stop, bunching up and going from single file to a cramped double column. Ana leaned side-to-side, but it was impossible to see the front of the formation past the bulk of the armored soldiers, and the tunnel was too short for her to climb or fly up higher.

“Soldiers!” The sergeant was barely audible from the back of the formation, her voice muffled by the bodies in the way. “Are ye ready t’ bring glory t’ yer lord, under Celestia’s light?!”

The shouted response was almost deafening in the enclosed space. “Aye, sergeant!”

“Are ye ready t’ strike fear in th’ hearts of th’ soft Frieslanders, t’ watch ’em wet their fancy blue coats when they realize they ain’t got their big guns t’ save ’em?”

“Aye, sergeant!”

“Remember th’ plan! Stay close t’ me! We will be th’ spearhead that clears th’ way fer all of Altalusia t’ bleed into this city, and when th’ bards and minstrels write their songs of this siege, they will sing of Count Dane’s steel hussars!”

Ana’s ear twitched at a faint hissing sound. A shout echoed up the tunnel from behind them. “Th’ fuse is lit!”

The tunnel fell silent. Every soldier seemed to hold their breath as the spitting hiss of the fuse faded into the distance. Ana glanced to her satchel, considering equipping her arcata, but decided against it. There would be hundreds of bluecoats between her and the rest of the city, and she wouldn’t get past them with force.

A rumble shook through the earth, and Ana flinched at the silt that rained from above. A second later the rumble was joined by two more, and she had to brace herself on the wall to keep steady.

There was a deep, shuddering crack from ahead. Sunlight streamed into the tunnel, filtered through a thick cloud of dust, and with a mighty roar and the thunder of galloping hooves, the soldiers streamed out into the open air.

Adrenaline surged through Ana’s veins as she followed, squinting past the sudden glare that struck her when she clambered past the shattered lip of the tunnel. A wide section of the city’s lower, outer wall had collapsed, disappearing in a cloud of snow and dirt along with all the soldiers and cannons that had rested atop it. Shouts of alarm competed with screams of pain, and although she could see a few more veteran bluecoats barking orders or shoving cannons into position, most of the Friesland troops simply looked on in open-mouthed shock as dozens of armored baronlanders scrambled out of the earth, bellowing throaty war cries and charging up the rubble towards the still-standing walls.

The bluecoats stood little chance. A few scattered shots was their only protest as the steelbound invaders trampled them underhoof, racing to claim as much of the wall as they could before an effective resistance could be rallied. Baron soldiers with small swivel cannons mounted on their backs followed in their wake, teams of two working as one to support the shock troops with deadly cannonfire.

Still others charged past the wall, into the streets, and Ana was quick behind them. Civilians screamed as they leapt into alleys, bolted into their homes, or simply ran in mindless terror.

Ana didn’t follow them for long. She needed to get through the gatehouse that led deeper into the city, and she expected the sound of armored hooves pounding through the snow would only attract trouble she didn’t want. She instead pulled her hood up, galloping after a group of civilians fleeing down a narrow side alley.

They apparently had the same destination in mind; the crackling of gunfire echoed off the walls as the group she was following merged with another, and then one more, and soon she was hidden in a sizable crowd of panicked ponies. Columns of bluecoats marched past them in the opposite direction, and at one point they passed a firing line forming up across an intersection just as a horde of baron soldiers came into view further down the street. Ana heard them get one volley off, but she didn’t bother listening for more.

Finally the gatehouse came into view, two large wooden doors set into the towering inner Friesland wall and protected by small towers jutting out on either side. A few bluecoats were directing traffic, ushering fleeing civilians in one side while troops streamed out the other.

Odd, Ana thought. Why are there so many soldiers inside the inner wall? She would’ve expected most of the garrison to be posted on the outer wall, ready to repel any assault, with only a small force left back to operate the cannons and police the city.

It didn’t matter to her either way. She kept her head down as she crossed under the shadow of the gatehouse, and a wave of relief passed over her as she slipped through the gates.

She could’ve collapsed right there; she was back in the city, and the hard part was over. But if she was going to collapse anywhere, it was going to be in the cheap tavern room she shared with her sister, and she didn’t want to be disturbed for a long time after.

The print shop where Whitehorn had told her to leave packages was practically across the city from here. She couldn’t fly and she was already sore from her wounds, so she opted to make for the officer’s home where she knew he was staying instead. If he had a problem with it, she didn’t care.

To her surprise, there was still a soldier stationed outside the home, looking nervously up and down the street as squads of bluecoats ran past him. She paid him no mind as she circled around to the back of the house, hidden away in a shaded alley. She grit her teeth as she climbed up to the window of Whitehorn’s room, pulled a hoof back, and rapped it against the windowpanes.

They flew open almost instantly, and she found herself staring at Whitehorn’s blue-eyed glare. “What are you doing here?”

“Special delivery.” Ana grunted as she swung through the window, ignoring his protests. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I very much do mind!” Whitehorn said, following her with his head. “We cannot be connected!”

“Y’know what? I honestly don’t even care right now.” Ana flipped her satchel open, dumping the papers inside onto the floor. The seal bounced against the stone with a dull thud. “I hope this is enough writing, because I’m not going back.”

He narrowed his eyes, looking down to her bandages. “Were you caught?”

“No, I shot myself for fun.”

Whitehorn’s tail flicked out behind him. “Anatami, my plan doesn’t work if ponies know the seal’s been stolen.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Too bad! For what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone knows what I took, but I wouldn’t sit on that seal too long. And I don’t need any smart talk from you. I must’ve dodged the entire Friesland army out there!”

“I had every confidence in you.” Whitehorn smirked as he sat down and picked up one of the scrolls. “This should be enough. Though you may already be too late.”

“Again—don’t care.” Ana made for the window. “Nobody would shed a tear if all your plots suddenly sunk into the sea.”

“My only plot right now concerns saving the life of Countess Rarity.”

Ana stiffened. The Countess was in danger? She opened her mouth to ask for details, but changed her mind at the last moment. Why should she care? “I do have one request for you before I go.”

Whitehorn laughed. “That’s not how our contract works.”

Her lip curled back at his dismissive tone, but she didn’t challenge him on it. “I threatened a mare while I was out, and she didn’t listen. I need you to follow through on that threat.”

“And why would I do that?” Whitehorn asked, flattening a scroll out on a metal chest he seemed to be using as a desk.

“Considering I’m working for you, my threats are your threats. And what was it you said about threats only being as good as the enforcement?” Ana shrugged. “I suppose if you don’t want ponies taking your agents seriously…”

Whitehorn snorted. “What is it?”

“One of the writing samples I took is a short story written by Nettlekiss’s scribe. I need you to publish it.”

Whitehorn paused. He looked up, meeting her gaze. “You threatened to... publish an author’s work?”

“It’ll make more sense once you read it.” Ana winked as she climbed back out the window. “If you need me anytime in the next several days, I hope you don’t find me.”

She dropped back down into the alley with a grunt, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. She had a too-long walk ahead of her, but the thought of seeing Gava again made it almost bearable.

---

“Countess Rarity, you stand accused of sedition against the State of Friesland, attempting to incite an unsanctioned general strike, and as an accessory to the terroristic attacks on Old Westfort. Do you understand these charges?”

Three judges frowned down at Rarity from atop a behemoth of polished wood, each one outfitted in crisp blue coats, weighed down by their personal collections of medals and decorated in elaborately spun gold epaulettes. Two lines of bluecoats, Captain Piaffe at the head of one, stood against the walls, the barrels of their rifles gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the windows. Behind her she knew, separated from the open space in which she stood by an iron railing, an audience of curious commoners whispered anxiously among themselves, but she didn’t dare look back.

She gulped. They’re accusing me of being party to that despicable attack as well? “Are there any other charges you wanted to add on?”

The older mare sitting in the center of the judge’s bench narrowed her eyes. “If you are found guilty, the penalty for each one of these crimes would be at minimum 10 years imprisonment, and at maximum 30. However, during wartime each of these charges expose you to a death sentence. You will also address me as Colonel, your Honor, or Ma’am for the duration of this hearing. Do you understand?”

Death? A chill ran down Rarity’s spine, but she refused to look away. “I understand, Ma’am.”

“You are entitled to appoint a pony educated in law to speak for you during this trial. If you cannot find such a pony, you will be allowed to speak for yourself. What say you?”

There was a murmur from the crowd behind her, but no offers of assistance. Either her supporters among the commoners were too afraid to speak up, or they simply knew nothing regarding the finer points of Friesland law. She bit her lip. “I’d like to appoint my associate, Whitehorn of Heighton, to speak for me, Ma’am.”

The Colonel nodded, her eyes darting to the crowd. “Would the named pony please step forth?”

More hushed whispers, but there was no comforting sound of hoofsteps. Captain Piaffe clicked her hooves together, clearing her throat. “Colonel?”

“Speak, Captain.”

“I know this pony,” she said, keeping her eyes straight forward. “He is currently under house arrest at my residence, along with the accused’s husband.”

“Very well.” The Colonel looked to the side, singling out a soldier who straightened up the instant he realized he was about to be addressed. “Ensign, retrieve both ponies from the Captain’s homestead.”

With a click of his hooves, the soldier marched out of the courtroom, and Rarity allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She’d feel much better once she had some friends at her side, and even if Whitehorn wasn’t a lawyer by any means, she thought it likely that he would have at least some better idea of Friesland’s legal system compared to her.

The Colonel leaned back, glanced at the two stallions seated to either side of her, and thumped her hoof against the wood beneath it. “Countess, how do you plead?”

Rarity blinked. She stole a glance back towards the crowd, for a moment thinking she had somehow dozed off and missed the arrival of Whitehorn and Pontius, but they were nowhere to be seen. “I’d like to wait for my legal counsel to arrive before I answer any more questions, Ma’am.”

The Colonel’s lip curled back into a disdainful snarl. “To be frank, Countess, this court will not abide any attempts on your part to delay or prolong this hearing. The city is in a state of emergency, and the fact that this hearing even needs to happen is an insult to myself, Governor Rhea, and to Friesland itself. Make your plea, or the court will decide for you.”

Rarity balked. A few angry shouts sounded out from behind her, but they were silenced by a smoldering glare from the Colonel. For the first time it occurred to her that the ponies overseeing her hearing may have already made up their mind as to her guilt, or worse, didn’t even care. She shook herself, unable to keep the hard edge out of her voice. “I plead not guilty, of course!”

“Your plea is noted. The court will now—” The Colonel paused, looking towards one of the windows with her muzzle still open. Anxious whispers filled the room as more and more eyes turned to the window, and soon Rarity found herself following suit.

A thick column of smoke was spiraling ever higher in the distance, from the eastern edge of the city. It was joined by two more a second later, the wide black clouds painting ugly scars across the sky. Airships floated between them, throwing bombs down into the city, and gasps of alarm passed over the crowd as one began to list to the side, gradually catching aflame, and drifted below the bulk of the wall.

What’s going on? Rarity looked to Piaffe, but saw her own confusion reflected back at her. The chatter grew louder, more anxious, and she saw some of the soldiers standing along the walls straightening up, fidgeting with their wings or rolling their shoulders as if to ensure their rifles were still there.

“Draw the curtains!” the Colonel barked, pounding her hoof. Bluecoats rushed to comply, pulling the curtains shut and leaving the courtroom in the dim, flickering light of its chandeliers.

Rarity jumped at the sudden slam of a door opening. “Make way! Step aside, quickly!”

She looked back and saw a sweaty bluecoat mare shoving a path through the stunned crowd. Her uniform was dirty and wrinkled, and her coat smelled of gunpowder. After a moment of confusion, Rarity realized she recognized the pony—Lieutenant Rollkur, the cantankerous mare that had first greeted her and her party as they approached Friesland under a white flag. Piaffe’s sister.

The Colonel stood up sharply, glaring down at the new arrival as she shouldered her way past Rarity. “Explain this interruption at once, Lieutenant!”

Rollkur squinted up at the Colonel before walking around the bulk of the judge’s stand and climbing up to them. She leaned into the senior mare’s ear, whispering a few words.

The Colonel stiffened. She nodded, turned to one of the stallions seated next to her, and whispered what sounded like an order. The stallion stood without hesitation and dismounted the judge’s stand.

He cast his gaze over the room, pointing to one of the lines of watching soldiers. “You all. On me.”

He trotted back through the crowd without looking back, the indicated troops following close behind. Rollkur spared only a brief moment to glance grimly towards Piaffe before following in his hoofsteps, shutting the door behind her once more.

Instantly the room burst into noise. Dozens of voices all called out for explanation, each one lost in the chaos.

“Quiet! Order!” The Colonel slammed her hoof against the stand, the sharp crack of its impact on the wood ringing over the room. “Silence, or I’ll have you all thrown out!”

Rarity looked to Piaffe questioningly. Piaffe stared straight ahead, stiff as a statue, but Rarity could still see the alarm in the way her nostrils flared, the way her gaze, normally wandering her surroundings in lazy sweeps, had suddenly come into sharp focus.

Finally the crowd began to settle down. The chatter still lingered as an anxious background buzz, but it was apparently quiet enough for the Colonel to continue the hearing.

“The court will call forth its first witness. Guild Master Marks!”

A round of boos rose from the crowd, their nerves suddenly forgotten under a wave of animosity. Mr. Marks appeared from the same antechamber that Rarity had entered from and made for a witness stand set off to one side. He regarded the crowd with a sad smile as he settled into place, though his eyes hardened when he looked to Rarity.

“Order! Order, damn you!” The Colonel looked to Piaffe. “Captain, quiet this crowd!”

Piaffe stepped forwards, the other bluecoats at her side doing the same. The audience settled down before she could take another step, and she returned to her position with a stony frown.

“Master Marks,” the Colonel began, leaning over her stand to address him. “Describe to the court your experiences regarding Countess Rarity’s attendance within the Commoner’s Guild.”

“Gladly, your Honor.” Mr. Marks straightened up, meeting Rarity’s eye as he spoke. “The Countess began to irregularly attend guild meetings three days after the terrible and bloodthirsty attack on the innocent citizens of Friesland at Old Westfort. During her very first meeting, she tricked an impressionable young guild member into getting her an audience with me. She immediately began to speak of ending the war in the baron’s favor, and attempted to recruit me in her conspiracy to force the city to surrender.”

“Conspiracy?!” Rarity echoed incredulously. “I did no such thing!”

“Silence, Countess, or we will hold you in contempt of court!” The Colonel stomped her hoof, and Rarity bit her next words back. “Carry on, Master Marks.”

The stallion nodded. “Conspiracy, yes. I don’t know what else I could call it, your Honor. She freely admitted that Governor Rhea had already refused her plea for surrender, and wanted me to declare a general strike that would force the city to its knees during its darkest hour. She tempted me with wealth and titles, even promising me a position in the new regime if I cooperated, but I refused.”

Rarity pursed her lips, glaring at the stallion as she heard the mutters from the crowd behind her. How dare he tell such lies while looking her in the eye!

She took a deep breath, forcing her anger down. Stay calm, Rarity. You’ll not help your case if you behave like a common ruffian. She would wait for now, let him spin his lies, and then she could give the truth once she was allowed to speak.

“The city is lucky to have you, Master Marks,” the Colonel observed. The pegasi scribbled furiously on their desks, recording every word. “Continue.”

“Thank you, your Honor. The Countess continued to attend meetings, though she did not speak or approach me again. I did see her associating with a baronlander that had come to the city shortly before the siege began, who I suspect may have been a spy sent in advance.”

“Focus, Master Marks,” the Colonel warned. “We are here to discuss the Countess.”

He dipped his head. “Apologies, your Honor. Upon waking yesterday morning, an aide informed me of rumors circulating regarding a supposed labor manipulation scheme between myself and the other guild masters. The guild members confronted me on this hearsay, and Countess Rarity was in attendance as well. Though she normally brought her hoofmaiden to accompany her, on that day she had instead chosen to bring her so-called husband, a brutish pegasus warrior from the Baronlands. I believe she had been expecting trouble.”

Rarity’s brow hardened. The idea of anyone describing Pontius as brutish would be laughable if not for her current situation. His nobility had certainly been helpful, however; she may have been arrested on the spot if she didn’t have him there to challenge the bluecoats. But she held her tongue, waiting patiently for her turn.

“As I was attempting to bring the guild hall to order so we could address the rumors, the Countess stood and challenged me. She incited the guild to strike without my permission, and planted sympathizers within the crowd to help her push her agenda. It was at this point, of course, that I ordered her arrest.” Mr. Marks answered Rarity’s glare with a calm smile. “She fled the scene, and I reported the incident to the local garrison immediately. That is all, thank you.”

“Thank you, Master Marks. You are dismissed.”

Rarity’s eyes shot wide open. “Excuse me? Do I not get to question him myself? To give my own side of events?”

The Colonel arched a brow, regarding Rarity with clear condescension. “Countess, your legal counsel has not arrived yet.”

“Then we can wait!” Rarity stomped a hoof. “We are discussing the matter of my life, are we not?! Is Friesland always so flippant with regards to pony’s lives?!”

“Watch your tone, Countess!” the Colonel snapped. “In fairer times, I would not be forced to do this, but this city is in the midst of a siege, and my services could be better used elsewhere than dealing with interfering baronlanders. As your counsel is not here, he regretfully cannot cross-examine the court’s witness. He is dismissed.”

“This is preposterous!” Rarity protested, spurred on by the angry mutterings from the crowd. She turned to Mr. Marks, opening her mouth to provide her side of things, only for the Colonel to cut her off.

“Countess Rarity, if you cannot show this court the respect it deserves, I will have you muzzled and shackled in place!” she shouted. She turned her glare on the crowd, who had gone from muttering to loud jeers. “And if your rabble cannot do the same, then they will have to watch from the streets! Their presence here is a privilege, and I am losing patience!”

Rarity grimaced, backing down as the audience quieted. Clearly any appeal to justice would get her nowhere here. She looked around, considering attempting an escape by force, but dismissed the thought quickly. Violence would only spur the commoners into a bloody riot—and that was assuming she could overpower the six bluecoats standing guard.

Mr. Marks stood, dipping his head in a shallow bow. “Thank you, your Honor.” He gave Rarity one last, winking smile before stepping down from the stand and disappearing back into the antechamber.

Rarity could only look on as creeping dread crawled up her spine. She had cooperated with her arrest in the hopes of avoiding needless bloodshed, but now she was beginning to wonder if she had delivered herself to her would-be executioners.

“The court brings forth its second witness: Captain Piaffe.”

Piaffe clicked her hooves together in salute before stepping forwards. Rarity watched her intently as she walked across the room and took her space in the witness stand, but the other mare refused to meet her gaze.

“Captain, as host to the Countess and her party, you were ordered to supervise their actions and investigate any potential suspicious activity. I have here a report written from you in the wake of the attack on Old Westfort.” The Colonel donned a pair of spectacles, glaring down at the paper in her hooves. “Summarize for the record and for the court the contents of this report.”

Piaffe gave a stiff nod as she stared straight ahead. “It is my suspicion that members of the baronlander delegation have been working from within the city to stir unrest and dissatisfaction with the city’s leadership in hopes of forcing a surrender. However—”

“Thank you, Captain,” the Colonel snapped. “That is all. You are dismissed.”

Piaffe pursed her lips, finally meeting Rarity’s piercing gaze with an apologetic grimace. Rarity only glared back at her.

With a sigh, Piaffe stood and returned to her position against the wall.

The Colonel spoke quickly, as if she was rushing to finish an unpleasant chore. “Has the defense prepared any witnesses to speak?”

“Oh, ah…” Rarity glanced back to the crowd, searching for any sign of a familiar face. There were dozens of ponies all squeezed into the little space, standing on and around the benches so as to make more room.

A mare lifted her hoof, waving it frantically. River Pie.

“I do!” Rarity finished, looking back to the judges. “I would like to call Miss River Pie to the stand.”

The Colonel narrowed her eyes. “The court will recognize your witness.”

A brief commotion surged through the crowd as River Pie squeezed through its ranks. A soldier swung open a gap in the railing to allow her past, and she came up to Rarity’s side with an anxious smile. “Countess, they aim t’ see ye hang,” she whispered.

“Yes, Miss Pie, I am getting that impression as well,” Rarity whispered back. “But if we can stall long enough for my friend Whitehorn to arrive, I may yet have a chance.”

The Colonel’s hoof clapped sharply against her bench. “To the stand, mare!”

River jumped, rushing to take a seat behind the witness stand. She looked back at the room with wide eyes.

“What is your relationship to the Countess?” the Colonel asked.

“Uh… I’m ’er friend.”

“Is that a baronland accent you’re speaking with?” The Colonel snorted, looking to one of the judges beside her. “An entire city full of honest Frieslanders, and this mare chooses the one baronlander in the crowd as her witness.”

“I deserve t’ speak like any other pony!” River snapped, glaring up at the judge. “Th’ Countess is an honest ’n kind mare, and she’d never do anythin’ t’ hurt another soul, even if they’d wronged ’er!”

“We are not here to discuss the Countess’s character, baronlander,” the Colonel said. “Do you have anything to say regarding the charges brought to bear against her?”

River hesitated, glancing uncertainly to Rarity before pressing on. “She means ye no harm! She’s a diplomat, tryin’ t’ end th’ war in a way that’s suitable t’ all sides! She just wants t’ avoid any bloodshed!”

“Avoid any baron bloodshed, no doubt.” The Colonel shook her head, waving a dismissive hoof. “The court will not hear further testimony from a pony who is not even an honest Friesland citizen. You are dismissed.”

“Wh—wait!” River stood up, desperation creeping into her voice. “But I’m a member of th’ Commoner’s Guild! I’ve attended every meetin’, includin’ th’ ones th’ Countess attended! Ask me about ’em! I can—”

“You are dismissed!” the Colonel roared.

One of the bluecoats marched up to the witness stand, grabbing River Pie and shoving her back towards the audience as she continued to protest. Rarity could only watch, helpless, and mouth a silent ‘thank you’ as her only ally was pushed back behind the railing.

A distant boom rumbled through the courtroom, raising an anxious stirring from the crowd. Rarity frowned as she glanced towards one of the curtained windows. That doesn’t sound like the cannons…

“We have heard enough,” the Colonel said, lifting a hoof. Rarity closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable sentence.

She jerked at the slam of a hoof against wood, and it was only a moment later that she realized it had come from behind her, from the door, and not from the judge’s stand.

“Wait!” Whitehorn’s breathless voice reached Rarity’s ears, and she opened her eyes, looking back to see him and Pontius standing in the doorway. His vest was wrinkled and sweat stained, as if he’d ran across the city in a single frantic sprint. “Whitehorn of Heighton, here to speak in defense of the accused!”

“Ah, I’m afraid you’re too late, Whitehorn,” the Colonel said. “The court was just about to pass its sentence.”

Pontius shouldered his way through the whispering crowd, clearing a path for Whitehorn to cross towards the railing. “I have evidence crucial to the court’s understanding of this case, and I demand the right to present it to the court for consideration!”

“You have no right to demand anything of this court,” the Colonel seethed. “All witnesses and evidence have already been presented. You’re too late.”

Piaffe stepped forwards, marching closer to the railing. “What evidence?”

“Captain! Stand down!”

Whitehorn reached a hoof into his saddlebags and pulled out an old scroll. “Here. Read it!”

“Captain, do not touch that scroll!” the Colonel warned. “I’ll have you court-martialed!”

Piaffe ignored her, reaching out and plucking the scroll from Whitehorn’s hoof. She held it out before her, quickly scanning the page, eyes growing gradually wider as she reached the bottom. Rarity looked to Whitehorn, the question clear in her eyes, and received a firm nod in return.

Piaffe turned to face the judges, opening her mouth.

“Soldiers, arrest that mare!” The Colonel stood, jabbing a hoof at Piaffe. “She is disobeying a direct order from a superior officer, and bringing shame on her uniform!” The troops standing along the wall looked nervously between each other, neither one willing to make the first move.

“It’s a letter, marked with the seal of Duchess Nettlekiss,” Piaffe said, casting her voice out over the room. “It’s addressed to a pair of mercenaries named Gava and Anatami, ordering them to bomb our granaries to ensure the city doesn’t abandon her.”

The room fell deathly still. Rarity blanched, shaking her head in shock. Nettlekiss hired them? To attack her own allies?

After several seconds, the Colonel spoke. “Captain, bring me that letter.”

Piaffe complied, her hoofsteps echoing off the walls as she walked up to the judges’ bench and held the letter up. The Colonel snatched it up, squinting down at it as the two stallions seated to her sides leaned over with grim frowns.

Rarity could scarcely breathe as the Colonel finally looked up from the letter. She cast her gaze over the audience before finally settling on Whitehorn. “Where did you get this?”

“I tracked the mercenaries myself,” he said, speaking with confidence. “They left their room unguarded, and I found that letter within.”

The Colonel narrowed her eyes. “This paper is still warm. As if someone had held a candle up to it to dry ink.”

“So you say, your Honor. Personally, I find it suspicious that you’ve carried out this trial without waiting the mere minutes required for the Countess’s defense to arrive to represent her. I have not been here to witness it myself, but such behavior might suggest you hold no intent of giving the Countess a fair trial. But that is mere conjecture, and should hold no place in a court of law.” Whitehorn turned to face the audience, raising his voice. “What we should be concerned with are facts, and the facts are as such: the attack on Old Westfort cost dozens of innocent Frieslanders their lives, and in this very room is a letter stamped with the seal of Duchess Nettlekiss ordering two cold-blooded mercenaries to carry it out. The same Duchess Nettlekiss, I would remind you, whom this whole war is being fought over!”

“Quiet!” The Colonel shouted. She stomped her hoof against her bench several times. “Soldiers, arrest him as well!”

Whitehorn only spoke louder so as to be heard over the banging. Behind him, Piaffe raised a hoof, signaling for the bluecoats to stay back. “Meanwhile, Friesland blood is being spilt within its very borders! If you open those curtains, you will see smoke rising from the eastern quarter, where baron sappers have breached the outer wall! The Governor is willingly sacrificing the lives of valiant Friesland troops in order to protect her cousin, a mare that has betrayed this city out of her own selfish desire to keep her lands!”

The crowd’s mutterings were already growing angry. Even the bluecoats lined against the walls were furrowing their brows in outrage, ignoring the continued calls from the Colonel for Whitehorn’s arrest.

“Everything this city has suffered, it has suffered in the name of defending Duchess Nettlekiss!” Whitehorn shouted, stomping a hoof. The crowd grew louder, almost drowning him out. “The extra hours forced upon you as your sons and daughters are conscripted to garrison the walls, who could even now be dying while you sit in here watching this show trial, it is all because of her! And here we have a kind-hearted, noble mare!” Whitehorn stepped to the side, gesturing towards Rarity with a hoof. “A mare whom you’ve heard the stories about, who has shown herself willing to help you even if it means her death at the hooves of rulers that care more for your labor than your lives! And if you don’t act now, she will pay that price!”

Rarity blinked, looking to Whitehorn with alarm. Just what exactly was he calling for the commoners to do?

The mutterings had turned to shouts, all mixing together into a single indecipherable mess. Sunlight streamed into the dim hall once more as ponies ripped the curtains from the windows, revealing a sky filled with smoke. Someone threw a horseshoe at the judges’ bench, and a few other ponies followed suit, forcing the Colonel and the other judges to duck their heads.

This is a full blown riot. Rarity stepped up to the rail, grabbing Whitehorn’s shoulder and pulling him to face her. “What are you doing? You need to stop this!”

“I’m applying pressure, Countess!” Whitehorn grinned back at her, reaching up to squeeze her hoof. “You want to force the city into surrender, yes? There are baron troops within the walls at this very moment, and soon there will be rioters surrounding the governor’s palace! Then we’ll be able to negotiate from a position of power!”

“But ponies will be hurt!” Rarity looked to Pontius, who was watching the crowd with a guarded expression. “Pontius, darling, back me up here!”

“I expect my support would do little fer yer cause here, my Lady,” Pontius said, keeping his eyes on the crowd. “The fuse’s been lit. We should leave before the blast.”

There was a crash as one of the flung horseshoes struck a lamp hanging from the wall. It fell to the floor and shattered, the oil within splattering across one of the discarded curtains. Within seconds the curtain was alight, and to Rarity’s dismay the ponies in the crowd actually cheered.

“Pontius is right!” Whitehorn shouted, opening the railing and beckoning to Rarity. “The chaos will only spread from here. Let us make for the governor’s palace, before the city tears itself apart!”

With a shaky nod, Rarity fell in behind Whitehorn as Pontius led the way out of the courthouse. Rioters were already streaming out into the plaza, some of them staying back only to light more fires within. Rarity’s heart wrenched as she saw the white scarves wrapped around many of their necks. How could ponies do such terrible things to each other while wearing a symbol created in her honor?

She didn’t have time to contemplate it now. She could already see the riot spreading as outraged commoners spread the word of Nettlekiss’s betrayal. Acrid smoke spiraled across the sky to the east, warning of the invaders that had come to make the city pay for the actions of a mare that had no care for the ponies within.

Rarity yelped as a squad of bluecoats suddenly cut them off. Pontius was already flaring his wings and spreading his stance when she recognized the mare in command—Piaffe.

“Countess!” The Captain spoke urgently. “Where are you going?!”

“That’s of no concern to ye!” Pontius spat back.

Rarity stepped up to his side with an accusing glare. “You’ve been spying on us all this time!”

“And I’d do it again, certainly, because that’s what my city needed from me.” Piaffe stepped closer, hesitating as Pontius blocked her progress. “Countess, please, I know you only want the best for these ponies. Friesland was built to withstand a baron siege, but it cannot face one while its own citizens threaten it from within. My city will burn if we don’t stop one of these threats. So I ask again—where are you going?”

Rarity gasped. She isn’t trying to stop me. She’s trying to help me! “To the governor’s palace! We need to speak to Rhea and get her to surrender!”

The soldiers flanking Piaffe all shared uncertain glances, but the Captain gave her a firm nod. She looked back to her troops, raising her voice. “Right then, loves, column up around the Countess! With speed, we can keep our city in one piece!”

The rioters were already converging on the governor’s palace, just across the plaza from the burning courthouse, and although it would’ve been nearly impossible to pierce the thick mob on their own, the extra weight of a dozen bluecoats clearing a path soon saw Rarity and her companions closing in on the palace. Ponies shouted and threw rubble at the line of troops standing guard just within the walls, but the garrison stepped aside to allow Rarity and her escort through.

Piaffe led them inside as the rest of the escort fell back, waving off anyone that tried to challenge them as they ran past the flower-decorated fountain in the foyer. She took them to a different part of the palace this time, ascending a set of stairs to the second floor and bringing them to a relatively plain wooden door guarded by a pair of soldiers.

“Halt!” The guards swung their muskets down threateningly, aiming their bayonets for Piaffe’s throat. “The Governor is not taking visitors!”

“If the Governor cares at all for her city, she’ll change her mind on that!” Rarity stepped forwards, ignoring the bayonets as they adjusted towards her. “Rhea! Are you in there? Please, talk to us!”

The door swung open. Governor Rhea glared out at them, her pink mane and yellow coat marred with obvious signs of stress. “Ah, Countess Rarity. I see it was a mistake to allow a baronlander whore like yourself into my city.”

“Ye will address her with respect!” Pontius yelled. The guards leveled their bayonets on him as he stepped forwards. “She is here to help ye!”

“Help me surrender? How kind of her.” Rhea let out a heavy sigh, stepping aside. “It pains me, but I am willing to discuss the matter.”

The guards shared a quick glance before raising their muskets, and Rarity dipped her head to each of them as she walked through the doorway, Whitehorn and Pontius following. She found herself in a large, well-furnished bedroom. A heavy wooden desk sat against a wide window on the far aside, looking out over the jeering crowds outside and the smoke rising up on the edge of the city.

There was only one seat, in front of the desk, but Rhea opted to plop down onto the bed instead. “I will admit, Countess, you are a deceptively crafty mare. I’ve clearly underestimated you.”

Rarity frowned. “You act as if I’ve tricked you.”

Rhea let out a bitter laugh. “Haven’t you? You’ve crippled my city’s workforce when it’s needed more than ever. You’ve bombed my granaries, rallied the commoners to support you in court, and then used the hearing as a platform to frame my cousin for the attack. You’ve even managed to time it all to perfectly coincide with a breakthrough on our outer wall, to ensure my soldiers couldn’t dedicate themselves fully to either threat.” She shook her head with a small smile. “It’s impressive work. I applaud you.”

“Don’t you dare blame me for that attack!” Rarity snapped. “I had no hoof in it!”

“Nor did my cousin!”

“Then how do you explain the letter?”

Rhea snorted. “A forgery, obviously. I don’t know how you got your pretty hooves on her seal, but I know my cousin, and that attack was not her doing. But of course the rabble have no mental energy to spare on critical thinking. The entire city will be convinced the war is a sham by sunset, and there’s nothing I’ll be able to do.” She clenched her jaw, lip pulling back into a snarl. “I’ll have no choice but to surrender my city to you brutes.”

Rarity’s frown deepened. So Nettlekiss wasn’t behind the bombing after all? But then who could have ordered it? And why would they frame her when I was just about to take the blame?

Whitehorn stepped forwards. “So you understand your situation. Delaying will only cause more damage to the city.”

“Will it?” Rhea slid off her bed, stalking up to the window and looking out at the chaos outside. “I know how the barons feel about us. They’ll tear this city apart. Split it up between themselves into little counties and baronies and destroy everything that we’ve worked generations to accomplish. And that’s assuming they don’t spend so long fighting over who gets what the entire city isn’t burnt to ashes.” She turned to face them once more. “Maybe it would be better to die fighting, and burn the city before they can take it from us.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way!” Rarity said, shaking her head. “Please, darling, believe me when I say that I want the best outcome for both sides. I want to end this silly feud between you and the barons, and make life better for every pony on Altalusia!”

“Life was already getting better for Friesland, until you showed up,” Rhea said. “We finally had the advantage on the barons. It was just a matter of time before they were forced to bend the knee, and the whole island could be united under a single, civilized, flag. No more petty rivalries or wars. With all this land, we could’ve outgrown Heighton. Baltimare. Even Harvest!”

Pontius let out a frustrated growl. “What does it matter who bends the knee? Yer ponies are dying out there, and ye can stop it right now.”

“Please, Rhea.” Rarity reached out to grab Rhea’s hoof, emboldened when she didn’t immediately draw it back. “I came to this land hoping to make life better for all ponies, to make Equestria more like it was when the Princesses were still alive. I know you don’t trust me, but I mean it when I say I can bring this conflict to a just resolution. I will fight the barons to my last breath to ensure that you and your ponies are treated fairly.”

“She does mean it, too,” Whitehorn added. “This mare is relentless. Though I expect you have some idea of that yourself, by now.”

Rhea grimaced, glancing to Whitehorn before meeting Rarity’s pleading gaze. Rarity offered her a tentative smile. “Please. Let us bring this violence to an end.”

After a long moment, Rhea let out a tired sigh. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter if I trust you or not, does it? The city is lost to me either way. Letting it burn out of sheer spite is the kind of thing a baronlander would do.” She pursed her lips, lowering her head. “The city is in your hooves.”

Rarity let out a shaky sigh of relief. She’d done it. Finally, after all the setbacks, even if it hadn’t been quite as bloodless as she had hoped, she’d brought peace to Altalusia.

She looked to Pontius, who gave her a warm smile, and then to Whitehorn, who answered with a firm nod.

“You’ve made the right decision, Governor,” he said. “Equestrians everywhere will thank you for it.”

Author's Note:

In the hardest times, we must choose what is most important to us, and what to believe.

The Frozen North awaits.

Join the EH Discord or Support Me On Patreon!

Comments

[Thought Prism]

You want to know something I've realized? All the problems the Mane Six have been facing are for the most part due to the ponies populating this new Equestria. And those ponies? They've been acting just like humans would.

[Goldenwing]

10158094
I guess that's what happens when they lose the magic of friendship, huh?

[MillionsBane]

It is kind of hilarious that Rarity is being credited with masterminding a coup when literally all she did was get shit on and almost executed.

[Russian Bank Teller]

10158094
wew, misanthropy much?

[Arzoo]

I liked that while Sea Sabre was hot to dump Rainbow's mission, the crew wasn't quite willing to abandon the quest.

Both Sabre and the governor ultimately had to give in to pressure to do the right thing. And Anatami's also struggling in the face of persistent goodness.

Twilight's story felt less climactic. Like it's an interlude or side story. There do seem to be developments with Midnight's character, but Twilight also seems to be slowly put off of trying to make friends, which seems like a bad direction for her. Rainbow murdered someone but it seems like Twilight is the one more at risk of losing herself; I guess corruption parasites or whatever Midnight is will do that to you.

[Arzoo]

10158116

I wonder if she'll connect the dots on Whitehorn. His rush job left him a rather flimsy lie in the courtroom and he's kind of the only pony with motive and means to make that forgery. It also connects him to the mercenaries.

[DarknessHusarz]

10158549
I have the impression that the culmination of Twilight is accepting rejection and accepting yourself as perceived by them Monster.

[Goldenwing]

10158549
Twilight can still make friends; she just keeps looking in all the wrong places.

And her plot has kinda taken a backseat to Friesland since she left Old Canterlot, but she'll be coming back into focus again soon. I'm looking forwards to it.

[Booster Spice]

Whitemane used Rarity has his version of the Trojan Horse?

The barons will still fail, a trading city can only keep supplying food for the populance if the occupiers aint busy like orks ripping everything apart to teach the defenders a lesson and then fighting among themselves for the leftovers and contracts?

[Aariadon]

Rarity let out a shaky sigh of relief. She’d done it. Finally, after all the setbacks, even if it hadn’t been quite as bloodless as she had hoped, she’d brought peace to Altalusia.

YOU JINXED IT!

10159022

More accurate to say Whitemane was just using Rarity as a distraction, making her the central figure but he was pulling the strings behind the scenes. But nobody would be suspicious of him.

Rarity comes close:

Rarity’s frown deepened. So Nettlekiss wasn’t behind the bombing after all? But then who could have ordered it? And why would they frame her when I was just about to take the blame?

But she hasn't figured it out yet. I presume she'll realize at some point Whitemane was the one who produced the letter which the judge voiced suspicions about being forged in a hurry.

As for the fallout, Whitemane doesn't care about the city or the island, presumably. His ultimate goal is wider-spanning. Right now I think he is making Rarity look good in the public's eyes while he tries to pull her toward his way of thinking so having her on his Counsel of Gifted or whatever he was calling it becomes more and more viable.

[Goldenwing]

10160336
10159022
Who is this Whitemane you speak of?

[Aariadon]

10160425

Memorize character names? Ain't nobody got time for that!

(It's all Booster Spice's fault!)

[Booster Spice]

10160429

Ack.. sorry.. I blame Gladmane and that Alicorn.

[platogkrone]

10158094
10158113
I think it's more what happens when they lose their benevolent, biologically immortal rulers.

[Elsaack]

Congratulations Rarity, you now have Friesland. Now you need to keep the Baronlanders (including your father-in-law, wonder who Pontius will support) from carving up the ruins after they sack it. Maybe don't let Whitehorn take it either, you know he's shady. You know what? Only way to make sure Friesland is free is to make yourself leader. Governor Rarity sounds good.

[Alchemik]

10160994
I'd vote for that. Though, way things are going there, democracy doesn't sound likely.

[Niiaro]

“they will sing of Count Dane’s steel hussars!”

https://m.

[Rubber2Duck]

“Well, fuck me, Dash, ye already had my respect, but if ye keep this up ye might get my admiration, too.”

“Ach, get yer mare under control, Jackie!” Flint winced as her wings buffeted against his shoulders. “She’s got th’ fire of a phoenix pissin’ hot sauce!”

Oh my god, I love Flint, he is the freaking best, and has totally grown on me since the beginning

[Blaster M]

[11thDoctor]

Whitehorn paused. He looked up, meeting her gaze. “You threatened to... publish an author’s work?”
“It’ll make more sense once you read it.” Ana winked as she climbed back out the window.

Honestly, I'd find it really funny if the published work went on to sell really well and the scribe was able to leave and continue their writings because of it.

[Navasoto]

Will Luna ever wake up? Will Celestia be free of the darkness that plagues her?

[PonyList]

Hey, maybe this means that Rarity can establish the County of Friesland and legitimize her title!