Ordo ab Chao

by Integral Archer

Prologue: In Varietate Concordia

Princess Platinum sat at the head of one side of the long rectangular table, levitating a hoof-fan in front of her face with her magic and waving it vigorously. She was wearing a long plush cape, made from the finest of silks and bordered by a regal white fur taken from arctic hares. The silk was completely pink and had purple fish-shaped ellipses woven into it, also in silk, adorning its surface. The cape started from her neck, hidden by an accompanying fur scarf—taken from the same aforementioned type of hare—which danced in front of her face with every stroke of the fan, and emerged as it went down her back and across the length of the chair until finally curling onto itself in a pile on the floor. This was her casual outfit: the one that she would not have cared had it gotten dirty.

At the end of every down-stroke the fan took, she saw the disapproving scowl of Commander Hurricane, who was sitting across the long side of the table. Commander Hurricane was leaning back in her chair, her hind hooves in steel-toed military boots and propped up on the table. She was wearing her dress uniform, its breast adorned in so many colorful military decorations that they completely obscured the brass buttons that ran neatly down the uniform’s underside, blending nicely with the complete black of the fabric. She twirled the matching black cap on her right forehoof in the air, while her eyes continually moved from Princess Platinum seated across from her and to Chancellor Puddinghead seated to her left.

Chancellor Puddinghead sat in between the two, her head laying sideways on the table while she stared mindlessly at the wall. In what seemed to be quite a prescient act on her part, she had worn the exact same attire—that is, a white ruff around her neck in addition the brown and butterscotch dress, topped by a pink bow tie on the croup—that she had worn when she had first met with the two aforementioned ponies and negotiated, unsuccessfully, the terms of a peace between their three tribes: a decision that seemed most appropriate, for the three leaders were sitting around the table in the exact same way they had sat at that first meeting.

The building they were in was at least better quality than that worn-down courtroom they had used last time: it was a single-roomed log cabin with no windows, built for temporary purposes, and it was excellently insulated; the seal between each piece of wood was so tight that it gave the illusion that the wood used to make the cabin was a single unit—a feat made possible by the professionalism and tact belonging to the earth-pony architects.

“Remind me again,” Princess Platinum whined to Clover the Clever, who was standing directly behind her, “why have thou dragged me to this dreadfully humid building at the hottest time of the day?”

Clover was outfitted in a smart dress, elegant in its simplicity and purposeful in its style. The dress was trim, with a loose fitting cotton, dyed in beige, that did not impede the fast movements her job usually required her to do. The black buttons down her back hung loosely in their sockets, allowing for quick and easy removal should the situation require it. It was uniform in its monochromatic theme and consistent in its design, allowing no decorations or those unnecessary ornaments which are incessantly defended by amateur designers for the sake of “style.”

“Like I said, Your Majesty,” Clover replied with the kindest of voices, which surprised the other ponies, for there was not even a hint of aggravation in it, despite the princess’s grating remark, “we’ve gathered here to negotiate the terms of the newly formed union. We need to establish a system of government.”

As she moved the fan more rapidly, Princess Platinum let out a dainty grunt. “If I had known that joining the tribes together would have involved so much work and sacrifice on my part, I would have reconsidered.”

“A unicorn shying away from hard work,” said Commander Hurricane, in a harsh, caustic tone. Her large boots were not able to obscure the disdainful look on her face. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Well, I never!” cried Princess Platinum, leaping to her hooves and speaking with a fervor that Clover had never seen her exhibit. “How dare you would even think about speaking to me that way, you wretched—”

“Excuse me!” yelled Smart Cookie, slamming her hoof down on the table.

Chancellor Puddinghead had brought her secretary along for moral support and to negotiate in her stead when she could not eloquently do so. Smart Cookie was dressed in a one piece work suit, made completely from a dark blue denim. A breast pocket held an assortment of hoof-tools that rattled together as her hoof came down, emphasizing her gesture of impatience. “The chancellor, who has given me permission to speak for her, had agreed to this meeting under the impression that the fighting had stopped. She would like to remind you that we have decided to put aside our differences, to work together for the sake of a goal which is beneficial to all of us. Have you two learned nothing from our night in the cave together?”

“She’s right,” murmured Chancellor Puddinghead, her head still on the table. “There are no enemies in this room, and it’s too hot to yell at each other—so please stop.”

The chancellor’s words hovered in the air for a while. Princess Platinum remained standing while glaring at Commander Hurricane; the latter was still sneering at her in derision.

At length, the redness of the princess’s face waned, and she bowed her head in deference, closing her eyes and shaking her head. Then, looking back at the soldier, who had now taken her boots off the table and who was now sitting respectfully erect with a genuine look of eagerness, Princess Platinum said: “Commander, it was wrong of me to snap at you like I did. I beseech you to accept my sincere apology, and I hope that this does not interfere with our new union.”

Commander Hurricane tapped her hoof on her chin. “I accept your apology, and I hope that you can accept mine in return,” she replied. “Truly, it was imprudent of me to say something that may have sabotaged a union that is in my interest and in the interest of my subordinates. You must understand, Princess, that the mentality that caused my outburst, while unfounded, is heavily ingrained within me; I know it doesn’t excuse my actions, but I will do my best to change that.

“In the meantime, it would be very kind of you to grant me some leeway.”

“Your apology is accepted, Commander” said the princess, with that haughty air of hers that she was so fond of using, and she tossed her cape petulantly in the air behind her. It landed on the seat cushion, and she sat down on it.

“Good,” said Smart Cookie. “I’m glad we resolved that.”

With smiles on all their faces—save for Clover’s—they all leaned back in their chairs, no doubt satisfied with the amount of progress they had made. It was not until a minute in silence had elapsed until Clover broke it, which was followed by a dissatisfied groan from the princess.

“Gentlemares,” Clover said, “we need to stay on task. The name ‘Equestria’ is not enough to form a country. When we leave this room, there will be thousands of eager ears waiting to know how you will usher them into a new era of prosperity. So, what will be the means to that end, I ask you?”

“I move for anarchism,” blurted Chancellor Puddinghead, pulling her head up from the table. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Hear me: anarchism is the most misunderstood theory in the world. The theory is based on the premise that a pony is a creature that is inherently good. Are we three not a testament to that premise’s veracity? We look out for our neighbors, and we forgive them for their encroachments.

“The government of the earth-ponies, my government, was virtually non-existent; I’m a figurehead, if anything. And look what we did: we grew the food when your tribes weren’t able to, and every single industrial advancement of importance has come from us. We didn’t mind when you asked us for our food and our technology; that is because we are capable of living in peace, and we don’t need a nationally funded police force breathing down our necks. In fact, before this union, we were talking about officially abolishing our government altogether, since it wasn’t serving any purpose—weren’t we, Smart Cookie?”

Smart Cookie looked anxiously at the incredulous stares being thrown at her. She flashed a coy smile and then, turning to the chancellor, she stammered: “Why . . . why yes, Chancellor. We . . . we were talking about it.”

After Commander Hurricane and Princess Platinum were finished exchanging glances of bemusement, the former was the first to respond. “Chancellor,” she said, “I can see how you would think that from your perspective, but I have to ardently disagree. After I had spent my five years of compulsory military service the moment I became of age, I decided to enroll in the military college to further my training. They taught me a range of things, from battle strategy to integral calculus, but there was one thing that stuck with me: ponies need a firm rule. They taught us—and which I later confirmed myself through my own experience—that if an officer shows any signs of complacency, if his subordinates even get a sense that they were self-autonomous, then all would fall apart.

“Chancellor,” Commander Hurricane continued, “there’s a reason why ‘anarchy’ is considered a synonym of ‘disorder.’”

The chancellor cocked her head to one side and gave a disapproving scowl. “Alright then, Commander,” she said, unable to hide the displeasure in her voice, “do you have a better suggestion?”

“I would not have objected if I did not think so, would I have? I suggest that Equestria is the same as my old country: a stratocracy. That seemed to work out pretty well for us. Military officers are efficient, disciplined, and educated; I can’t imagine any other group of ponies more fit to run a country.”

“How dreadful!” Princess Platinum spoke in her turn. “No offense intended, Commander, but while the military might be fine for the roughnecks and unskilled laborers, it is hardly fit for ponies with slightly more grace and elegance, traits that I like to think belong to the unicorns, my ponies. The citizens need a leader to love, not to fear; they need a leader that they want to work for, as opposed to a leader who orders them flatly to do it. There is nothing more inspiring, more indicative of class, than nobility. Equestria shall adhere under the tenets of monarchism.”

Commander Hurricane’s mouth fell open. “What?” she said. “A government by hereditary succession?”

“Why, of course. How else?”

“How does that make any sense? Where are the checks and balances? What’s to stop the rise of an incompetent heir? As a military officer, I know that I would never select anypony to replace me that wasn’t as good—if not better—than me; at least there’s some consistency there.”

“What about democracy?” interjected Chancellor Puddinghead.

“Absolutely not!” the commander and princess shouted in perfect unison.

The chancellor shrugged. “Two against one? I guess that answers that question.”

Commander Hurricane’s right eye twitched involuntarily as she, for a fleeting second, regretted not bringing somepony else along with her to represent the pegasi—not so much for the power that one finds in solidarity but more for the pleasure one feels when another agrees with oneself. “I refuse to live in a society ruled by you snobs!” she yelled at the princess.

“Well, I refuse to be ruled at the point of a weapon!” the princess shot back.

“You foals!”

They all turned in the direction of this last voice and were surprised to see Clover the Clever. She was breathing heavily through her nostrils; and, despite the humid atmosphere of the cabin, they could see clouds of moisture coming from them each time she exhaled.

“Don’t you see what you’re doing?” she continued. “You’re all, whether you care to admit it, still in the mindset of ‘us against them.’ I thought it was agreed that this was not the principle on which we should form the Union.”

“Clover,” said the princess, “we’re trying our best; and, quite frankly, my dear, thou are not helping. Either contribute to this discussion, or stop interrupting it.”

“Republicanism,” Clover said through her teeth.

“What was that?”

Clover closed her eyes. “Republicanism: the theory that the head of state should be chosen by means that are not hereditary, and that certain officials should be elected to positions of power through a majority vote and where that power is limited through a constitution.”

The three leaders stared at her fixedly with puzzled expressions on their faces. They had never heard that word before in their lives, and none of their canned responses they had usually given in order to condescendingly dismiss something without question did not apply.

“Well . . . that’s interesting, to say the least,” said Commander Hurricane, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“Why?” said Chancellor Puddinghead, in a tone that made it unclear as to whether she was addressing the commander or Clover.

“Now—how exactly would this work?” said Princess Platinum.

Barely had the princess been able to say this last sentence before Clover launched into her speech, which she had been holding in since the beginning of the meeting, at a rapid-fire pace. In a single breath, she said: “Logistically, it wouldn’t have to function too much differently than your parliament if you didn’t want it to, Princess. Each seat in the parliament—republicans prefer the word ‘congress’—would be filled by an elected official, usually with some affiliation to a group, which is called a ‘political party.’ The leader of the party that won more seats than any other party would become the head of state: the ‘president,’ as the republicans call it.

“Republicans believe that the majority should never be able to impose their whim on the minority, or vice versa, so the congress is bound by a document called a ‘constitution,’ which explicitly says what is permitted and what is forbidden.”

Princess Platinum’s mouth was slightly ajar and she was nodding dumbly through the entirety of Clover’s explanation. About half a minute later, when she had finally processed the information, the princess said: “And what would this ‘constitution’ entail?”

At this, Clover’s face relaxed into that of a warm smile. “Don’t worry about that, Princess. If you’d like, I’ll draw it up; and then, within a week or so, we’ll meet back here to debate over it and to make the necessary changes—I mean, assuming you and the other leaders agree to that, of course.” She grit her teeth and looked with a pleading smile at the princess, awaiting a response.

The princess winced apprehensively and then, with a shaky voice, said: “This idea is extremely radical, Clover. In truth, I’ve never heard it before today. I’ve never seen anypony rally behind a movement with that word on their lips, much less even suggest it.”

“That’s because, in a world where dissent is discouraged in favor of fitting in, republicans—radicals—tend to be the intellectuals who believe that the best and most effective means of protest is to stay in their studies writing novels about the subject rather than taking to the streets and, like brutes, knocking down anything that stands in their way.

“Do you remember Starswirl the Bearded, Your Majesty?”

“The chief enchanter for my grandfather, Prince Palladium? How could I forget him! Not only did he write an innumerable amount of texts, each one more praised than the last, he himself taught me everything I know about unicorn magic. I loved him as much, if not more, than my grandfather.”

“A republican, Your Majesty.”

Princess Platinum recoiled and let out an audible gasp. “No! But, how can thou know this?”

“He never published about it, true; but if you look at his position, his proximity to your grandfather and to the royal family, you will no doubt be able to see how he would think that it would be very indiscreet of him to do so. However, if you look into his journals, which I found in the library a few weeks ago, there is a page or two where the implication of his beliefs are clear, even if he never states it outright. I can show it to you, if you’d like.”

“But he was the loudest to proclaim his love for my grandfather and his work!”

Clover smiled. “Your Majesty, one can love the pony but hate the position he occupies.”

The princess slouched back in her chair with her mouth open, struck dumb.

Commander Hurricane cast a weak eye toward Clover and raised its eyebrow. “I’d be willing to see this ‘constitution,’” she said. Then, rubbing her cap across her forehead until it was drenched in sweat, she continued: “But at this point, it’s more of an excuse rather than a legitimate debating matter. It’s too hot to argue or to continue any further today.”

“I concur,” said the chancellor with her head still on the table. A cascade of sweat could be seen running off her mane and forming a little puddle on the wood; the puddle was feeding a small stream that flowed toward her end of the table, which was maintaining a constant drip onto the floor. “No pony has ever tried this before. However, there’s no reason we can’t look at a proposed constitution. We have all the time in the world and there’s no reason we have to finish today—”

“Disrespect!” Clover yelled suddenly, causing the commander to drop her cap to the floor and causing the chancellor to whip her head up rapidly from the table to stare toward the direction of the sound, a line of sweat erupting from her hair like from a volcano. “Disrespect toward the princess! How dare you waste her time, asking her to write documents—documents she will write purely out of the interest of the Union—and not even be willing to treat them as a serious matter worthy to be discussed! She’s willing to spend a week—a week!—perusing the appropriate books, making the constitution just right; and you’re just letting her do this, without even duly considering her work, just so that you don’t have to spend any more time in a little bit of humidity! She is truly having second thoughts about unifying her tribe with you, you who consider the act of thinking a chore.”

The scowl on Clover’s face, in the shadow of the imperious tone of voice that she had just used, struck deep into the three leaders’ chests, rending their hearts and demanding that they beat solely for the contemplation of what she had just said.

Clover had somehow managed to replace Commander Hurricane’s usually cavalier countenance with fear: the emotion that four years in the military college and twenty years in her service had suppressed until now.

Chancellor Puddinghead, who was now sitting erect, crossed her eyes in confusion.

Clover turned toward Princess Platinum, and the latter felt the hairs on her mane stand up on end. The princess had previously thought that she was the one being defended by Clover; but, at the sight of the judgmental glare from her assistant, which said more than any additional words she might speak, the princess understood that she herself was more guilty than the rest, and that Clover, out of courtesy—or perhaps to emphasize her condemnation toward her—had projected the indigence she had felt onto her in the most cunning and frightful way possible. The princess trembled in her seat.

“Princess,” Clover continued, not changing her expression, “it is clear that they do not appreciate you and what you stand for. What will you do?”

The princess sighed and relaxed slightly, slowly feeling her power coming back to her. “Clover,” she said, “if it was anypony else that suggested this to me, I would only respond with a mocking laugh, but because thou said it to me and because I trust thee to some extent . . . I’m willing to give this a try. Of course . . .”

“Yes?”

“I would be able to become ‘president,’ would I not?”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty—provided you’re elected to it.”

“Well then, thou have my permission.”

“My gratitude to you is infinite.” Then, turning her head, Clover said: “Chancellor?”

The chancellor had put her head down on the table once again and was letting her eyelids droop. “Why not?” she murmured.

Clover smiled, but the smile quickly disappeared as she prepared herself to attempt the hardest task yet. “Commander?” she asked.

The commander had assumed that dismissive pout which is peculiar to military officers pondering a difficult decision. Clover felt a bead of sweat run down her temple as she heard Commander Hurricane make a clicking noise with her tongue against the wall of her mouth.

“I would be able to run for president as well?” the commander asked.

“Well, you’d have to be the leader of a party first—but yes.”

“Well then,” said Commander Hurricane, kicking her steel-toed boots back up and putting them on the table, “I guess that’s the best we’re going to get, isn’t it?”

“So it’s settled, then,” said Clover, a satisfied smile creeping onto her lips. “The new union will be a republican one.”

“‘The United Republic of Equestria,’” said Chancellor Puddinghead with a wistful air. “It sounds good on the ear and it tastes good on the tongue. ‘The United Republic of Equestria’—I could say that all day.”

“Well then, fine gentlemares,” said Princess Platinum standing up carefully, lest she stepped on her cape, “if it is desirable to you, then I say we adjourn this meeting until a week from today, whereupon we will debate the terms of the constitution—the rough draft of which I will pen.”

“Agreed,” said Commander Hurricane, standing up as well. “The longer I stay in this dreadfully humid cabin, the more irritable I get.”

“To the Union!” shouted Chancellor Puddinghead, standing up straight and holding a forehoof out over the table. This gesture passed straight over the heads of Commander Hurricane and the unicorns; it was not until Smart Cookie put one of her forehooves on top of the chancellor’s and nodded toward them that they understood: it was a gesture of camaraderie.

“To the Union,” said Smart Cookie.

Commander Hurricane picked up her cap from the floor and placed it, with her forehoof inside, on top of Smart Cookie’s hoof. “May it last forever,” she said.

Clover smiled and placed her hoof on top of the rest. “May it remained principled and intransigent,” she said in her turn.

At this, they all looked toward Princess Platinum, who was rubbing her right forehoof nervously against her teeth. She glanced from the face of the pegasus, and then to those of the earth-ponies; and when she saw the impatience brewing in their eyes, she took an imperceptible step back, her teeth chattering. It was not until she finally saw Clover, who looked at her, not with urgency, but with complete sublimity and reassurance, that the princess bowed her head in deference, planted her right forehoof firmly on the ground and then topped the salute with her left.

“The Union forever,” she said.

They wasted no time in leaving the cabin, each one rushing to the door so that they may be the first to breathe the fresh air of the United Republic of Equestria.

Exactly one week later, and after a three hour debate, Princess Platinum, Chancellor Puddinghead, and Commander Hurricane emerged from the same cabin that they had been in a week prior, holding the Constitution of Meeting Tribes of Immediate Siblings—which would come to be known more colloquially as the “COMTOIS.” It bore all three of their signatures; and they announced that it would, forever more, be the supreme law of the Union.

It was directly following this event that Commander Hurricane and Princess Platinum gave each other a polite curtsey, shook hooves, and went on their ways—the former forming the United Party and becoming its leader and the latter doing the same with the Royal Party.

Princess Platinum had dedicated the Royal Party to making sure that day-to-day life for the average citizen would be very similar to life before Unification. Commander Hurricane formed the United Party in direct opposition to this tenet, citing the poor logistics of the former unicorn government as the primary reason for the hardship that had befallen all of them.

When the first elections came, the citizens scrambled toward the voting stations, delighted to take part in this novelty. For the first time ever, they filled out their cards with their quill pens; and each one, upon dropping their choice into the box, felt a profound sense of empowerment.

Upon the polls closing, all that remained to do was for Commander Hurricane and Princess Platinum to hold their breaths and to wait for them to be counted. Three hours later, the counting was finished, and the polls reported a startlingly high ninety-nine percent voting rate.

Despite the fact that the United Party had Chancellor Puddinghead as one of its eminent members, Commander Hurricane, being used to running her mouth off at her subordinates, gave the party an abrasive and disquieting air, resulting in the Royal Party winning by a landslide and Princess Platinum being elected as the first president of the United Republic of Equestria. The inauguration took place a week later.

And who could forget that day! Never before had anypony seen so many ponies gathered in one area. For the first time in history, pegasi, unicorns and earth-ponies gathered, not to fight, but to celebrate, to revel in their election of a new leader and the start of the new union. Ponies were cheering, drinking cider, and flying miniature flags of the United Republic of Equestria, and not one second went by without somepony in the crowd saying to some other pony: “I’m glad we’re friends!”

And then the crowd went silent, as Princess Platinum had just appeared.

One would have thought that the crowd would have cheered in unbridled jubilation, but everypony was silent, seeming to recognize the solemn mood of this historic occasion; even the foals somehow stopped their incessant neighing. Every eye was turned toward her in complete awe, and it is no surprise why: Princess Platinum represented everything that was right with the Union. She had a confident, but elegant, stride; she was regal and commanding, but gave off an air of maternal caring and understanding; and her ostentatious silver crown, with its brilliant jewels, seemed to serve as a beacon for all the prosperity that would grace the onlookers of this event and their new country.

Walking in front of her was Clover the Clever. Nopony recognized her; but, no matter how hard she tried to conceal it, Princess Platinum could not hide the fact that there was nopony that she loved more than her.

Despite all of the princess’s protests, despite all of her whining, despite all of her nagging, Clover was always there, always listening, always caring, and never complaining. Being an only foal, Platinum had found somepony to tease in the daughter of the royal secretary; and, as the years went on, Platinum found more and more ways to annoy Clover—to the point where Clover was so annoyed, that they were virtually sisters. And, indeed, Platinum loved her like a sister, though she would never admit it.

As Clover walked up to the podium and tapped it with her hoof, signaling for attention, and with the president-elect right behind her, little did the endearing supporters of Princess Platinum know that almost every single one of Platinum’s acts as president would be on the suggestion of the timid, modestly dressed pony, who, by her sole effort, authored the COMTOIS in a form virtually identical to the one that had been signed and who was, at this moment, clearing her throat.

“Princess Platinum,” Clover said firmly, “please repeat after me: ‘I, by virtue of saying this oath and thus accepting the position of president of the United Republic of Equestria, hereby devote my life during the standard term in office and any successive terms, in protecting and upholding the Constitution of Meeting Tribes of Immediate Siblings.’”

Princess Platinum, in her authoritative and inspiring voice, repeated, without hesitation or pause, this sacred oath that would be echoed through the walls of time for as long as the flag of the Union stood.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts, may I present the president of the United Republic of Equestria.” Clover barely had time to finish this concluding statement before the crowd burst into cheers. The outcry was so great and so long that Princess Platinum swallowed nervously, for the longer they continued, the less time she would have for her inaugural speech—but also, the more unsure she was that she would not be able to meet the expectations of her hopeful, proud supporters.

Finally, the cheering subsided and she was able to finally begin the speech that Clover wrote for her and which the princess had spent hours rehearsing. The details of the speech, oddly enough, were one of the few things in Equestria’s founding that has faded in the memories of its citizens; the only thing universally agreed upon was that everypony witnessing it was incredibly inspired. Some attribute this lack of details of the speech to the crippling heat; others attribute it to the crowd being blinded by pure jubilation; but the most probable explanation is that the entirety of the speech was overshadowed by the fact that, at the very end, Princess Platinum raised her head even higher than before, and said: “And therefore, to demonstrate the devotion that I have for the United Republic of Equestria and to the laws and principles for which it stands—as your first president, I shall shed my old family moniker in favor of the one that you have given me: President Platinum.” And at that, she gracefully removed her crown and set it on the podium in front of her.

Ironically enough, this act gave her family quite a name in politics, and from that day forward, an election had never gone by without a member of the royal family leading either the Royal Party or the United Party. Many were elected to this sacred position—with varying degrees of success—but what all shared in common was that they renounced their royal family title upon completing the oath, as President Platinum had done before them.

What stayed with everypony however, were the words “The Union forever”: an impromptu comment which had been made by the president during the first session of deliberation on behalf of the country. These timeless words were immortalized on a gold plaque—which was generously donated by the royal unicorn family—and were installed above the glass case in which the original copy of the COMTOIS is ensconced, safely protected by a twenty-four hour patrol and dozens of grams worth of gold pieces in security equipment, in the halls of the National Archives of Equestria in Canterlot, which admits its observers free of charge.

Comments

[Lazarus]

Though I am skeptical of the ability for one to simply announce a republic whilst still under the previous influence of serfdom and militaristic prowess, I can safely say that this story suspended my previous beliefs enough to believe that what transpired here could have occurred in reality.

Bravo, sir or madam. You have created an inspiring and believable piece of work, grammatically correct and as fluid as the clearest stream.

My only annoyance is the lack of yet more to read beyond this and the second chapter.

Also, as is necessary per the traditions of the internet, I claim my spot as first and foremost comment on this piece.

[Fome]

Haven't read, but:

the United Party chooses Disce Cordis as their new leader�a strange draconequus

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