Chapter One: The Results Are In
Narda 12th Darkness, 1008ALB
It was grim reading, and had the contents of the binder in front of me come with no forewarning, I would probably have dismissed them out of hoof as absurd. For all I wished it to be otherwise however, the past seven and a half years of reports, letters and personal experience were difficult to ignore. The only real news was the scope of damnation.
Therefore I instead found myself doing my best to suppress the spread of the flimsy film of frost which had begun to form across the desk, even after I finally reached the end of the seemingly endless ring binder's contents and simply stared at the back cover for a while, thinking.
Eventually, I looked up into the gurning face of When Where and briefly considered going back, simply to spare myself the sight. That would not have changed the fact of the filly's nervous presence on the other side of the desk, however.
"This is the entire report?" I asked resignedly.
"Y-yes, ma'am." The Unicorn stammered, hurriedly getting up from her mat.
"You are quite sure?" I pressed.
When Where nodded, if such a term could be applied to the jerky movement. Combined with the scrawny mare's coat, I was reminded of a wingless pigeon. "Absolutely, ma'am - I can go and check again, i-if you want, that is..."
For all her deference, When Where had hardly left me a choice, lest I risk her plunging head first down a flight of stairs in haste. "No, this will be quite sufficient. Seek out the Military Secretary and bring him here at the earliest convenience."
The young mare curtsied, gabbled something incomprehensible and fled the office at such a pace that were this not the real world, the beige carpet would surely have been set alight in her wake.
Once privacy was restored by one of the Guards outside closing the door, I sighed and rose. I had tried and she had not taken the hint, but at least I had managed not to fumble such an awkward name in my weariness. The junior clerk had of course been sent as a sacrificial bearer of bad news by her superiors in the War Office, but she did not need that sort of humiliation added to her nerves.
Trying to push the topic from my mind for a moment, I turned to the condensation-streaked windows. Beyond, the snow covered city was beginning to stir as the long winter night drew to a close. Bakers would already be hard at work and the lamplighters would soon be along to snuff the gaslamps down the streets electrification had yet to reach.
I had already heard a petition at court to protect that profession from the march of modernisation and the resulting amendment to the National Heritage Bill was slowly working its way through Parliament in order to spare a few appropriately atmospheric or historic places such as Pell Mell from conversion, but most would still be disappointed by the scope. Others would fume at the disorder or 'hesitant hoof' of such a move.
Shaking my head at the hopelessness of universal appeasement, I plodded across the office and began idly examining the law books lining my shelves in the forlorn hope of finding another avenue of stress relief. They were a rather long winded affair compared to the old days, but far more functional for a thousand years of codification, refinement and reform under Tia's eye. An eye that had, alas, provenly wandered from other important matters as of late.
A knock at the door drew my attention and another sigh. "Enter."
The door opened and a wheezing When Where staggered in. "The... The Military Secretary... Isn't here... Ma'am."
I did not turn my head, content to merely look sidelong. "Miss Where, I do not think you quite grasp what is meant by the words 'earliest convenience'. It is five in the morning. I would hardly expect him to be awake at this hour, let alone at work. All the same, thank you for proving the presumption."
"Sorry, ma'am." When Where mumbled.
"T'was not I who was run ragged through the palace." I replied. "Nonetheless, I do grow weary. I shall retire to my chambers for a while. I suggest you rest as well Miss Where, and think upon the topic of prudence."
"Y-yes... Thank you ma'am." The grey mare said, still breathing heavily.
Once she had stumbled out, I cleared my desk of anything I would rather not have the cleaning staff seeing, locking most of it into one of the draws, save the ring binder. That, I took under one wing.
It almost seemed redundant to leave a message with one of the Guardsponies outside the doors to my sister's tower, considering that she was likely waking even as I did so, but I needed to be both awake and rested early this afternoon. Meeting Tia on the Eventide balcony or at her breakfast as I normally would, would push that back by an hour or more, especially if she raised the topic of the Report with me.
As soon as I entered my solar, I nudged the Moon on its way, to greatly oversimplify a process I have always quite honestly struggled to put into plain words. As always when I am early in performing my Duty, it felt a little recalcitrant in accepting the correction.
With that done, I summoned my safe and stowed the binder for later before readying myself for bed.
Sleep however, was elusive and when it did come, it was fleeting and troubled. As they had many times since that fateful day in Manehattan two moons prior, my dreams drifted unbidden back to that literally blasted stage...
My ears rang. I had not heard the explosion, but all the same it had left me in pain and primitive fear on the ground. That fear was mastered by discipline honed long ago however, and I rose amid the ruin.
The main thrust of the blast had taken the easiest route out from beneath the sturdy wood of the stage - directly into the audience. All sound was drowned by the shrill whine, but even if I could not hear it, I saw the screaming. Wide eyes, pinned ears, flared nostrils, flapping mouths.
Those in the front row were the worst affected, caught both by the brunt of the blast itself and the bulk of the debris it carried with it. Among the writhing wounded were the dead, or the soon to be, and among them...
Rarity, her coat and dress soiled with her lifeblood.
Time ground to a halt as a vicious anger rose in my heart. All the speeches, the campaigning, the effort devoted by so many decent Ponies to mend a grudge that had seen fifty generations of Thestrals isolated, neglected and exploited for the crimes, however abhorrent, of their long-mothers. All of it had been useless. The world was still marred by the sick malice to orchestrate such a craven assault upon the innocent, as at least one evil heart had proven. It was all too likely that many more quietly agreed, even as they paraded their hollow smiles.
Deep in a black corner of my mind, one that had lain silent for years and which I had hoped would continue to do so until my dying day, something stirred. Something of me but separate, an extreme that offered all the easiest solutions, that now said 'I told you so.'
In that instant caught between heartbeats, a mother hauled her foal away, horror writ on her face. Another mare was helping one of the injured drink a potion of some kind. A doctor? An adventurer? Maybe just somepony with an uncommon dose of prudence and the will to do good amid tragedy. Whispering Rushes, one of the campaign team, cleared debris in search of more wounded.
They had all paid the price for my weakness. A line had been crossed and there were other tools at my disposal than words to purge evil. I would see this murderous villain - this slayer of Generosity - swing from a gibbet, and that would be too good for them. Then I would root out the sympathisers and meet out their just desserts as well.
Yes, I was weak. I had gathered a harvest of death and failure for all to share and called it friendship, and the redress of past sins. If I had been strong, if I had taken the easy way, then none of this would have happened.
As seconds dragged past and the Moon rushed to an unbidden command, my weeping eyes ever strayed back to Rarity's body. A fair maiden with a good heart, one who had been blessed with the ability to push back against the greatest injustices of the world. To whom an uncountable debt of gratitude was owed by so many, almost certainly including her mur-
Because I was so transfixed, I saw her stir. Feebly, but corpses do not move. Usually.
I stumbled forward toward her, almost falling off the remains of the stage. What could I do? The healing arts I understood were crude, blunt instruments of a bygone age. Brutal things as likely to kill as cure.
But sometimes they did cure, and nopony had come to Rarity yet. They might not do so in time unguided, and even if I called for help... It would doubtless just be one voice among dozens, lost in the madness for precious seconds.
Rarity would not have her life valued above another and there were indeed others I could have tried to help first, but their existence never entered into my consciousness until the moment returned again and again in memory. Not that it mattered, cold pragmatism would have demanded no other course of action from me anyway.
I had dithered overlong already, amid the wreck of the stage and now over my own ability.
She would try it for me.
With that mental kick up the backside, I tore the ruined dress away and drew on magic that had probably not been used in centuries, spells I had never been very good with and only the mightiest of wizards could hope to emulate, ones which had ever fallen more within my sister's domain. The sort that burnt and staunched and did so with permanence.
Vast amounts of the raw stuff of creation flooded the air, much of it spillage that manifested in a miniature storm of wild magic. It was a dangerous amount, and not just because of the chaos unleashed.
A terrified shriek of the beast unleashed filled my mind, trying to stop the casting. How could the world be righted if I threw myself away so?
The easy choice was revenge. Justified, righteous.
But Ponies had put their trust in me, and I would be damned if I let that wretch extinguish my friend, my subject, a true beacon of hope in the world, a life I could save.
As my font drained, my field wavered and my sight tunnelled in upon itself, I chose the difficult way, and the beast was cast wailing back into its prison.
In the blackness that followed, a lantern guttered, casting a dim circle of light about itself in defiance of oblivion.
When I awoke, I was tangled in my eiderdown and my coat was matted with sweat, made all the worse for the thickness of winter.
It was hardly the first time I had been haunted by my past however, so by the time I had extricated myself, I was largely composed and thanks to the wonders of modern pumps, I was able to fill my bathtub without having to even leave my inner chambers in such an unpresentable state.
The ice cold water proved more than sufficient to clear away the remaining cobwebs. And once the needs of coat and wing had been tended to, I found a makeshift breakfast waiting for me in my solar - so much as the expert work of a chambermaid long accustomed to unusual hours could ever be considered 'makeshift', in any case.
I scarfed it down in a manner which would have been quite scandalous in public, then retrieved the ring binder and descended my tower.
The War Office was not located in the wing of the palace dedicated to office space, but in fact situated deep below the palace in the labyrinth of tunnels and old storerooms that had once been used to store both the local harvest and also supplies in the event of siege - a very real danger in the castle's early days as the primary bastion watching over not only the Canterhorn Gap but also the northern border with the then-independent Duchy of Cloudsdale.
I had been conducted around the entire place shortly after my return as part of my refamiliarisation, but that was some years ago and I had seldom had cause to venture into the depths since. Most of the officials I had dealings with normally either came to me or were to be found in the aforementioned office wing. Therefore, I took a number of wrong turns before I began to catch sight of uniformed soldiers and followed them like so many breadcrumbs to the right office.
The Secretary's secretary, a mare with a white coat tinted yellow by the electric lighting, jerked upright from whatever she had been doing as I entered unannounced. "Wha- Oh my, your Majesty!"
I did not concern myself with her suspiciously drowsy look. "I must speak with Lord Grimhoof urgently. Judging by the lack of light beyond the door, I presume he is not in. Where may he be found?"
The mare glanced at the door to the inner office before answering. "Erm... I'm afraid the Military Secretary isn't in Canterlot right now, ma'am. He's at his estate."
"At his estate?" I repeated, surprised. "Surely he cannot still be off for Hearth's Warming?"
"I don't th-think so, ma'am." The Earther replied nervously. "All I was told is it's for family reasons."
Which could mean any number of things, from petty excuses to a death.
I sighed. "When is he expected back?"
"He said he'd be back for next Curda." The mare said, then gestured toward a telephone on her desk. "I could try and call him, if you like?"
After a moment's consideration weighing the risk of indiscretion against practicality, I nodded. "Yes please. Inform him he is to return as soon as equinely possible, or otherwise empower somepony to speak for him. I have a matter to discuss with him that has been left too long already."
"Yes, ma'am." The mare replied before tugging the speaker set over her head and beginning to spin the dial.
After a few minutes of hearing half a conversation with first an operator, then some other intermediary before finally reaching the stallion himself, the secretary placed a hoof over the mouthpiece and looked up at me. "Lord Grimhoof says he can be back by tomorrow ma'am, around noon."
"He is to come to my office at half past four then." I instructed.
The mare relayed my words, then removed the headset. "He says he'll be there, ma'am."
"That will be all then." I said, turning to leave and covering my frustration that I should go to the effort of waking early at the time of year I am most deprived of sleep, only to find I might as well not have bothered.
I made the best of it and cleared my yellow box swiftly before attending a function at the Wingbardian embassy, which had been scheduled prior to the arrival of trouble in paper form upon my desk.
Soon thereafter, I found myself arriving at the private dining room reserved for my sister and I, along with our relatives or personal guests.
Most days, this was a grandiose way of saying 'Blueblood', but on that particular evening he was evidently elsewhere, leaving me alone in the room save for a pair of attendants.
Tia arrived ahead of my dinner, looking as frustratingly fresh as she usually did in the deep winter. Admittedly, it was something I mirrored at the height of summer when my duties were lightest. "I didn't expect to see you this morning, what with the reception. I'm surprised you have room for dinner as well."
"I have little love for Wingbardian cuisine - too much tomato." I replied.
"You liked the macaroons last week." She said impishly, moving toward the table and settling on one of the mats.
That caught me a little off guard. "Those are Wingbardian?"
Tia nodded.
"Then I suppose they can be said to comprise the 'little'." I replied.
Silence fell and our disparate meals were delivered. Most Ponies would consider the quantities involved in both excessive, but between an Alicorn's stature and the intense magical needs of our Duties, every bit was needed.
Tia cocked her head and broke the silence. "Something is bothering you. Nothing went wrong at the reception, did it?"
"I left early, but only to be here. Besides, I always feel a terrible boor sitting through Eyrite after dinner sermons." I shook my head wearily. "It feels as though I should join in, but Ancestors above..."
"I know." Tia agreed. "Real or not though, Eyr is perfectly harmless. I doubt the Ancestors would mind you keeping some Griffons happy by playing along."
"Somehow, I doubt you would have said that before." I said, fiddling with my roast vegetables.
"Earth turns, and it is wise to move with it." She said serenely. "The 'barbarian' faiths are less barbarous than they used to be, on the whole. As are ours... I doubt you're upset over the fate of a bushel of corn though."
"I am not upset." I protested quietly. "Merely concerned. Have you read the Dotted Line Report?"
"I hardly think this is a topic for the dinner table." Tia chided.
I would not let her evade that easily, however. Especially with such a blatant attempt at drawing upon the big sister card. "If not now, then too late. I have read it, and its contents are going to ensnare me for weeks, with or without you. But I would rather 'with'."
Tia didn't respond, carefully chewing on a scone. There was something in her posture...
I kept up a pointed expression, and eventually she caved. "You know you were always the more martial of us, Luna."
"That I do not deny, but you were never timid when it came to doing the necessary." I said.
Tia grimaced. "One begins to question the wisdom of fighting, the second time under the surgeon's knife."
It hadn't taken me long after my return to spot the differences in my sister's coat, the tell-tale shifts and swirls left by long-healed scars a less familiar eye would miss. She had never admitted the cause before though.
I shook my head again. "It was folly to lead forces when your death could mean a cataclysm."
"And what message would my hiding in the palace have sent, in those days?" Tia countered. "It was dangerous, but to be seen as craven would have invited disaster with greater surety. All the same, I did prepare contingencies."
"That stone you were going to give to Twilight Sparkle, before Grover..." I mused aloud. "So that is where it came from."
She nodded. "A piece of myself. Cadance could have taken on the Duties with it, if the worst happened. In hindsight, I do think you were right by the way. Looking at Twilight, having a little more formative time while things blow over seems to be doing her good."
"And what if things do not 'blow over'?" I asked.
"I won't let Equestria get dragged into a Griffonian succession crisis." She said, looking toward the window. "Once that resolves itself, the world ought to quieten down a bit. Perhaps enough to consider retirement again."
"Do not allow your gaze to linger in the east, sister." I warned. "What of the north, and the west?"
"Severyana can be brought back into the fold eventually." Tia said confidently, perhaps a little too much so. "Sooner rather than later, if their government keeps fighting itself like it has been. As for Johan, I don't think he will be beyond Twilight and the Elements' ability to manage, when the time is right and Velvet has her pieces in position to capitalise. And I know that with Equestria, Olenia and the Crystal Empire presenting a unified front, the Changelings shan't cause us problems either, for all their posturing. Chrysalis isn't stupid."
"Not stupid, no..." I tailed off and changed course. "Tia, I fear this house of diplomatic cards in which we reside may not have a sturdy enough foundation. Some of the figures in the Report are frightening. Were you aware that across the entire country - out of fifty million creatures, lest you forget - there are only forty thousand soldiers? I was not."
My sister turned her head back to me, raising an eyebrow. "There are three times that on the books, a hundredth of the GDP goes on them."
"Apparently the books are not accurate, which begs some questions as to where over half those Bits are going." I said.
Tia's gaze fell to her plate, where she nudged her last scone back and forth with her field for a moment before she sighed. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave this on your back Luna. You'll do a better job than I ever could with this."
"I understand. I may cause some ructions however, I trust I have your blessing to take what actions I must?" I replied, thoroughly burying a snipe that such decisions might well be the cause of this shocking state of affairs to begin with.
She nodded, posture easing significantly. "You worry about fixing things, I'll keep Parliament and the Court from defenestrating you."
"Thank you." I said with a relieved smile at the joke as very real worry ebbed. I had no fear of the limelight any longer, the Thestral friendship campaign had done for that, but Parliament remained a new, dangerous beast to me. One I would rather continue to approach with gradual caution lest it react poorly.
Tia finished her breakfast before she spoke again. "Enough of work for now. Did you know Blueblood was recently approached by a studio looking for patronage a couple of weeks ago?"
I made a negative grunt through a mouthful of parsnip.
She leant in conspiratorially. "You know how he is with modern art, but he thought I might be interested. I finally managed to sneak a couple of hours into my schedule to see one of those new talkies from them yesterday, and it's really quite something..."
The conversation flowed on from there, growing much more relaxed and cheerful as Tia regaled me all about the hilarious adventures of Stove Pipe and Bowl Over in pursuit of a 'stolen' bridge, which was in fact... Well, I ought not ruin the surprise. Given that the talkie was a wonder of the modern age that I had for once had the pleasure of sampling first, I enjoyed the opportunity to reverse the usual positions when it came to the technical aspects.
The conversation had brought something to mind however, and so before I retired for the morning, I examined the absent stallion's records, placed a request with the military archives and met with a mare of the shadows.
Stats
Page generated in 0.02 seconds
Total duration
1,062 users online
1,709,875 hits today, 2,167,270 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
An interesting opening for your story. I look forward to reading what comes next.
A good opening, I think I will follow along.
That was a interesting story so far goodluck with the rest of it.
11391966
11392219
11393347
Good grief, sorry I'm so late in responding! In any case, thanks for the support, I hope you enjoy!
You have written a very beautiful story.
Luna and Celestia are well characterized. Good use of inner voice, monologue, and interiority. Now, I'll be a bit mean.
You have some very long sentences in here. They're grammatically accurate long sentences, but a one sentence paragraph may be best avoided, even in stream-of-consciousness narration. I'd point to Luna's speech to the journalists in part four, for a moment that is broken up into sentences well, but is a very large, chunky paragraph. It would work on a book page for space, but online reading favors shorter paragraphs.
Brandishing by horn or by hoof? Floating before the muzzle? Whirl around Envelope's head, taunting? I could use a bit more 'Pony' things with our narrator, some more 'action' details to complement her dialogue and activity. This is a minor quibble, but she is a very large Pony with a mystical mane and tail.
11423770
Thanks for the feedback! For the former critique, I think I see where I could add a full stop, but trying to avoid repeat instances will be the main challenge. For the latter, I imagined her holding it tightly open in front of Envelope's face by telekinesis. I'll try and tweak the scene to make that clearer.
not to contradict, but luna spent a thousand years without food, water, or air. i dont think she needs it lol
11485842
That's an interesting topic, and depends on the state she was in while banished to the moon, both physically and mentally. I'll explain the particular interpretation I've taken further in a later story, but suffice to say for now that no incarnate flesh can endure the void unaided, and Alicorns are indeed incarnate beings.
As for the mind, and to put it bluntly: If Luna remembered what happened in the waking sense, minute by minute and year by year, then after the Elements were finished in the pilot, all that would have remained upon Celestia's arrival would have been a nickering animal, mind irretrievably destroyed by the torment. 'Zombie' would be another way to describe it. Luna would have been centuries dead, fled in despair to her ancestors.