The Diplomatic Approach
Until that first meeting with Princess Celestia, Twilight Sparkle had never expected to see an alphyn. She had been so excited be tasked by the Princess to travel to the Palatinate of Phynland and negotiate a trade route agreement with the Grand Prince. A new land, as far as she’d ever travelled (if you didn’t count mirror dimensions), and new people to meet and to exercise her responsibility as Princess for something so important! That Cadance and Shining Armor – and Spike, of course! – were to accompany her as her support, not the other way around, was just the icing on the cake.
Of course, Twilight was widely read enough to know about alphyns; Mareodotus described them as “having bodies like unto lions, half as large again as a pony, but with the front legs of griffons and a snake’s tail” but the description was rather... inadequate, to Twilight's mind. For one, their heads were not really lion-like aside for the thick mane, as brightly coloured as any pony’s. Their muzzles were longer, the faces narrower, putting Twilight more in mind of a wolf or perhaps even a dragon’s head in shape, with two prominent incisors. Their front legs were more in truth somewhere between and eagle’s and a dragon’s; bare of fur below the knee and covered in scales. They terminated in three large talons and a rear-ward facing smaller forth one. Their fur, ranging from bright yellow to deep orange had prominent tufts at the shoulders, rear calves and rump, which were all as neatly styled and groomed as any Canterlot noble’s moustache.
And the description of their very long, delicate prehensile tail as “snake-like” was entirely unflattering. It had enchanted Twilight on that first day in Chasshall, the capital of Phynland, to see those graceful tails, perhaps two or three times the length of an alphyn if stretched out, roiling and curling over themselves and waving gracefully like serpentine flagpoles above each alphyn’s back. This impression was only heightened by the ribbons and streamers the alphyns attached to their tails. Alphyns possessed inherent magic, most akin in form to unicorn magic. When they used this magic, their tails lit with an aura like a unicorn’s and weaved in complex spell-patterns. Twilight had found it an absolute delight to witness.
After a week of dealing with quagmire of Chasshall’s stratified society, the political manoeuvring, pride, rituals and most of all, the stubborn smirk of the infuriating Prince Caldrast, Twilight wished she could just go home and never see an alphyn ever again.
“It’s like he’s deliberately goading us!” Twilight all but snarled as she stomped into their guest quarters. An equally weary-looking Cadance trotted in behind her, carrying an exhausted Spike on her back. The little dragon had insisted on staying with Twilight all through the negotiations, determinedly taking notes and acting as scribe, showing patience far beyond his years. Twilight has already decided he had earned a whole bucketful of gems at the first opportunity.
Her ire softened slightly, as Cadance laid Spike on the grandiose canopied bed. Pausing to tuck him into one side of the bed, she turned back to Cadance. Shining, bringing up the rear, quietly drew the canopy closed around the sleeping drake to give him what little privacy the room could afford.
“I mean, look at this,” Twilight continued, in a much quieter voice, gesturing around the room. On first inspection it looked opulent, though even Rarity might have preferred to call it “gaudy.” There was entirely too much red to be comfortable and Twilight was more than half convinced that this was deliberate, to make them all feel more angry. While it was not exactly a small room – Caldrast had at least to maintain some minimum standards – the two overly large canopied beds took up much of the space. On close inspection, the wooden furniture was just the right side of being rotten and beyond the veneer, the paint was faded and the metalwork tarnished. The attached ensuite bathroom was archaic, lacking a shower and dominated by an ornate copper bath which could only be filled by servants bringing buckets. The little space the bath left was barely big enough for one pony. All-in-all, the suite was uncomfortably small for three ponies and a baby dragon.
“This suite, if you can call it that! One room for all of us, and only two beds! So Spike has to sleep with me! And our poor staff have to sleep with the palace servants on the other side of the castle!”
Part of her felt guilty for complaining about this, the sensible part that said she should be grateful for whatever honours her station bestowed upon her. However, the more Rarity-like part of her reminded that part that the Prince’s proclamation that this suite offered as “grand a vista of the city” as anywhere in the palace also meant it was situated right next to the royal menagerie and not far from the market. Which had lead to several sleepless nights until finally Twilight had cast a silencing spell on the windows.
“Prince Caldrast has done everything he can to make us miserable without actually violating his precious rules and traditions! And he’s enjoying every minute of it!”
“I agree,” Cadance said, resting on the room’s sole divan and stretching her wings. “This has gone well beyond just being a diplomatic tactic to keep us off balance.”
“I’d say he was doing it to strengthen his position with other princes,” Shining added, floating a pair of fruit cocktail drinks to the two alicorns in his aura, before joining his wife with one of his own. “But even that doesn’t make a lot of sense. He’s the strongest leader the alphyns have had for centuries. And it can’t be personal; this is the first time Equestria has had official relations with Phynland for ninety years.”
Twilight paced irritably. “He’s done absolutely everything but directly throw us out. It’s not even like he’s just disinterested in the agreement! He just... wants to make us suffer! Like today!” The four of them had spent the entire day and into the evening – a late start, after the Grand Prince had shown up in his own time, of course – trying to work out the trade route negotiations.
The terms were, frankly, very favourable to Phynland. Equestria was prepared to pay handsomely in money and trade concessions to allow their proposed trade route to pass through Phynland. With the renewed conflict between Ungulasia and the Gagana Aeries, the only way for Equestria to import the exotic Golden Star Orchid they currently needed very badly was to pass through Phynland. The other alternative was no alternative: a longer and more arduous journey around the continent that would reduce the plant’s freshness and efficacy. Worse, it was a route that would pass far to close Necanis. And the Cusith were far too well informed to allow such a prize to pass their doorstep unhindered, especially when it was one so important to whom they considered their only true rivals.
Prince Caldrast had dragged out the negotiations for hours, claiming this concession would upset this group or this guild or that organisation, and that one this one, until Twilight felt like she was trying to pilot a boat through uncharted reefs at high speed. But they made slow progress. Caldrast did not even appear to be making it impossible, just very difficult. And, when they had finally successfully navigated through the morass of alphyn politics, and it appeared that the Prince had run out of legitimate objections... he decided it was too late and he was too tired to continue.
All of this might have been bad enough, but Caldrast was really making no attempt to hide the fact that he was doing it all on purpose. Every time he found one more reason to drag things out or find some new way to politely snub them, it would be with that damned half-smirk. That smirk that said he knew that the excuses he came up with were flimsy, concealed under the thinnest veneer of diplomacy or politeness, but just sturdy enough that for them to complain would reflect badly on them. And he knew that they knew that.
Had it not been for Cadance’s calming presence, Twilight was sure she’d have hauled off and bucked him in his stupid orange face.
“Now, Twilight,” Cadance admonished primly as Twilight realised she’d observed that last part aloud. “That is no way for a Princess to behave.” She took a long sip from her fruit cocktail and murmured with a smile, half-muffled behind her drink, “even if it would be very satisfying.”
Twilight sighed, finally stopping her pacing and sagging. “I know. It’s... just so frustrating. This is so important, and he’s treating it... like a game. I don’t even know that he wants!”
Shining shrugged. “Well, we’ve got him on the ropes now. We’ve worked our way around every objection he could come up with. Tomorrow he’s either going to have to sign the agreement or come clean. Either way this is going to be over. And we can get back to doing more fun things. Like fighting Sombra again.”
“You’re right, BBBFF,” Twilight yawned hugely. “Better hit the hay so I’m ready for the morning. We wouldn’t want to be late the one occasion Prince Caldrast is actually on time...”
That had, Twilight fumed, been ridiculously optimistic. They had already been awaiting in the spacious, empty expanse of the meeting hall for an hour. Shining stood at the rear of the room, with Razor Sharp and the party’s small diplomatic staff of four slightly-haggard looking ponies. Cadance was chatting to Spike in a low voice, doing her best to keep him from getting too bored while they waited. Twilight felt another surge of affection for her little guy, since once again, Spike had refused flat-out to be left behind, even after yesterday’s gruelling trial.
Just before she reached her last nerve, the far doors opened and Prince Caldrast swept in, followed by his own staff of brightly-dressed servitors. Twilight would not have been surprised if he’d been sitting there the entire time, just watching them steep for his own amusement.
The Grand Prince was large for an alphyn, almost the size of Celestia, but much more heavily built. Even through his fine robes of office, the thick knots of corded muscle stood out. Proof indeed that Caldrast had achieved his position as much by physical force in the honour-duels as by his political machinations. More subtle signs that he was still ready for action at a moment’s notice were in the manner of his adornment. His glowing-coal-orange fur was impeccable, as was his finely-styled steel-blue mane. But both were cut rather shorter than was the typical fashion. The Grand Prince did not choose to gaud either his tail with ribbons or rings like many of his courtiers, leaving it bare to weave mockingly above his head. The rings that were his seals of office he carried around his neck on a chain, rather than on his talons.
And there was that damned smirk again. Only for a moment, but with something else behind it, too...
“Ah,” the Prince rumbled, his deep voice effortlessly carrying across the larger and empty chamber. “Good morning to you, my esteemed guests! I do hope you slept well!”
Twilight bowed, ruthlessly quashing her feelings and mustering up as genuine a smile as she could manage. To the right, she could see Cadance doing the same. Shining, acting as guard with Razor Sharp, bowed but was, at least, spared having to smile. To her left, Spike bowed with a flourish and then settled down, quill and scroll at the ready.
“Good morning, Prince Caldrast,” Twilight answered. “We did indeed,” no thanks to you, she silently added. “I hope today we can close the trade negotiations to your satisfaction and start enjoying the benefits of closer relations between our countries.” She forced herself to smile as brightly as she could.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Caldrast said, waving aside her words with the same disregard he always did. The alphyn settled himself into a chair so ornate it was within a stone’s throw of a throne. “Let me come to the point.
“I am prepared to sign your trade agreement.” He held up a claw. “But there is one more condition.”
It took every iota of Twilight’s willpower not to grind her teeth together. Beside her, she noticed the merest flicker in Cadance’s serene visage and wished she had even that level of poise, much less Princess Celestia’s.
“What, if I may be so bold,” she said, just barely managing to not grind the words out, “is it this time?”
Caldrast actually smiled – not just his little half-smirk, but an actual full-on grin of malicious delight. Twilight’s heart sank.
“Well,” Caldrast said, his voice full of fake cheer. “This morning the other Princes came to me. They are concerned that you have,” he paused smugly, pretending to search for words, “allowed yourselves to be put in a position of weakness during these negotiations. That you have been so very... conciliatory.”
There it was. Twilight bristled, stamping down the retort. They had made every effort, they’d followed the complex alphyn traditions and decorum of politeness and respect as honoured guests, which otherwise would have had them dismissed out of hand. They’d played his game all the way through. And somehow, he’d managed to turn that against them too. Twilight reminded herself that Equestria absolutely had to have this trade agreement and that she’d have to abide by this last amendment. And that convincing Celestia to melt Chasshall – or Caldrast personally – into a puddle was not an option, not matter how angry she was right now.
“Now, with all the trouble abroad nowadays,” Caldrast continued, “we can’t be seen to be having dealings with a weak power. You understand, of course. But fortunately,” he said, clapping his talons together, “there is an easy solution! One that will satisfy my princes.
“So, I will sign Equestria’s treaty... on condition that you defeat me in a Grand Honour Duel this afternoon.” Grand Prince Caldrast leaned back in his chair looking utterly pleased with himself.
There was a gasp of shock from the Equestrian staff. Shining had instinctively taken a step forwards. Spike half stood, mouth open to protest before Cadance caught his eye, and he slumped back, mouth set in thin line. The claw holding the quill was shaking.
Twilight, for part, just stared at the smirking Prince for a moment in dull shock. He was actually going to challenge her – a guest – to an honour duel? And a public one at that, in the grand arena. That went against every rule in the Phynland etiquette rulebook – literally, she’d read fifteen permutations before setting out. Honour duels were very clearly an internal matter between alphyns. The very fact that Caldrast had enough sway to be able to fragrantly disregard the rules made a mockery out of his excuse.
No, Twilight, realised. This is what he’d been after from the start. He did have an ulterior motive, after all. The only question left was why. Not that it mattered.
“Alright, Prince Caldrast,” she snapped. “You’ll have your duel. I don’t mind telling you, I’ll be looking forward to it!”
Twilight would not have believed that Caldrast’s smirk could get any more wicked. She was wrong.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, waving an admonishing talon. “As the challenger, I am to decide who will fight me. I will not be fighting you, Princess Twilight...”
He rose to his feet and lazily raised one talon. “I’ll be fighting her.”
He was pointing at Cadance.
An hour later, Twilight was still shaking with anger and more than a little fear as she sat down in the box so graciously provided by the Prince to watch the proceedings. For once, they truly had the best seats in the house. Caldrast, it seemed, wanted them to witness every last moment of his triumph.
The Chasshall grand arena reminded Twilight more of the Classic Era coliseum. It was at least the size of the stadium in the Crystal Empire where they had held the Equestria Games. The sandy floor was surrounded by a high wall of white stone perhaps two or three times Twilight’s height. From the mountings in the wall, Twilight imagined that this might sometimes house pennants or banners, though none stood today. Twilight might have put that down to this being a last-minute event; but the rows of tiered seating were almost completely full of alphyns, a sea of waving tails and ribbons. Caldrast had obviously planned ahead of time. In fact, Twilight realised with dull surprise, it might have been exactly why he’d dragged out the negotiations so late yesterday.
The Equestrians had been given the Grand Prince’s own royal box, at the centre of the south side, on a platform that was higher than the surrounding seats and above the arena floor wall, which practically had them on top of the action. To either side, at a respectable distance, two smaller boxes housed the palatinate’s twelve lesser princes.
Twilight’s whole staff was seated in the box. Twilight hadn’t really wanted to bring Spike, but the alternative was to either leave him alone or split their small group and at this point, Twilight didn’t want to take that risk. Spike himself hadn’t wanted to be left behind either, though the way he was gripping the front of the box hard enough to leave indentations with his claws was a sign he was as unsettled as she was.
Shining had yet to arrive. Twilight had left him a moment to speak to Cadance alone before the duel began. Just... Just in case. Twilight blinked away furious tears. This could not be happening.
“You... you can’t!” Twilight had exploded, all ready to give up there and then. They’d just have to find some other way, there was no way she was going to let...
“Twilight.” Cadance’s calm voice cut through her churning emotions. “Breathe.” Twilight dutifully performed the breathing exercise.
“It’s okay,” Cadance continued. She turned back to Caldrast, looking him straight in the eye. “If this is what it takes, Prince Caldrast, I’ll do it.”
Caldrast had actually laughed with cruel glee. “The grand arena. One hour!”
He was still cackling as he swept out of the room.
Twilight had argued, but Cadance had been resolute. There was no time to try anything, no time to prepare Cadance. She didn’t even have any armour, which Caldrast was sure to wear; neither Shining Armor nor Razor Sharp – who himself looked as angry as Twilight had ever seen the normally stoic guard – were Cadance’s size, and the lack of time meant that they couldn’t even attempt to adjust it. Wearing ill-fitting armour would be worse than wearing none at all. All of which had to have been Caldrast’s intention all along; to ensure this duel would be as stacked in his favour as possible.
So Twilight and Spike had hugged Cadance fiercely in the cold stone chamber of the arena entrance, and left.
Twilight glanced over to Spike, who looked very pale, and so still. She reached out to winghug him, alphyn disapproval of public displays of affection be damned. Both of them needed it right now.
Twilight’s thoughts were interrupted as Shining entered the box, taking the seat to her right, opposite Spike.
“Hey, Spike,” he called, getting the little dragon’s attention. Shining floated over a container in his aura. “I made a quick stop, on Cadance’s instructions. She said she was worried about you.”
“She’s worried about me?” Spike repeated in disbelief. He opened the container to see it filled to the brim with gems. His eyes widened.
“We figured you might want some comfort food.” Shining smiled. “Go ahead.”
Twilight stared at her brother. “You bought him gems?”
“On Cadance’s orders,” Shining said with a self-deprecating half-grin.
Spike’s pleading gaze was more than Twilight could handle at the moment. If it brought him some comfort... She nodded her affirmation. Spike immediately crammed a clawful of topaz into his mouth and his posture loosened a little. Twilight kept her wing around him, wanting to make sure if... anything happened... she could cover his eyes.
Shining gave them both a comforting smile. “Spike, Twily. It’ll be okay. I promise.” And then the trumpets sounded.
Grand Prince Caldrast entered from directly opposite the royal box. He was preceded by several servants, and the marshal who was to oversee the duel, in resplendent vivid red.
Caldrast himself was armoured. To Twilight’s mild surprise, it was not full, heavy plate armour, but a suit made of some sort of dark, modern flexible plating which looked even more intimidating in its professionalism. Twilight was also certain it would be enchanted for good measure. Two of the servitors bore huge scabbards, which Twilight imagined must house a sword maybe six or seven feet long. The servant that stood near Caldrast bore the most ornate of the two, no doubt the Grand Prince’s personal blade.
The trumpets sounded again, and Cadance entered from directly below the royal box. Alone and unarmoured, she looked very small compared to her hulking opponent.
She stopped the designated distance from her opponent, looking him in the eyes. From her position, Twilight thought she looked remarkably calm... but so fragile.
The marshal stepped forward. His tail whipped in a short pattern, a pale green aura coating it, and when he spoke, his voice carried effortlessly through the entire arena.
“I call all to witness the Grand Honour Duel between Grand Prince Caldrast Nemathator V and Princess Cadance of Equestria and the Crystal Empire.
“The Grand Prince makes the challenge. Should he be defeated, he shall cede his signature to the Equestrian’s trade agreement.
“Once the duel begins, it shall end only when the one accepts the surrender of the other or in the death of one or both combatants.”
Twilight grimaced and beside her, Spike shuddered. She hugged him tighter.
“The combatants may not leave the arena until the duel is over: to leave before forfeits the user’s life to the other. Flight is permitted, but only within the boundary of the arena, which is to say the height of the arena building itself.”
Twilight scowled. That comment was directed at Cadance, ensuring that her only other advantage over the Prince – her wings – would be seriously curbed. Alphyns possessed considerable jumping prowess. Twilight had no doubt one in as good condition as the Prince would have little difficulty reaching her with a running leap, even before taking into account any magic he might have himself.
“The use of magic is permitted, subject to the prior restrictions.
“The combatants will now be issued with their weapons.”
The Grand Prince took a step forward. His servitor bowed deeply, and, holding the scabbard parallel to the ground, proffered the hilt of the sword. Caldrast reached out with his right arm and drew the blade with one motion, his tail beginning a steady dance, flickering with yellow light as it also took some of strain telekinetically. The Grand Prince’s sword was pitch black, the blade with wicked-looking jagged edges. Twilight just about made out runes on the surface, before Caldrast made a sweeping motion, and the blade exploded into bright flames so sudden and intense that many of the watchers – including Cadance – flinched back.
Caldrast made a wordless mocking bow, and gestured to the other scabbard-bearing servant. Cadance’s blue aura wrapped around the hilt and drew the blade out rather more slowly. Cadance wrinkled her nose with distaste as she regarded the wide, heavy blade, holding it at horn’s length. It was functional, but little else; a little tarnished with age, pitted in one or two places, but it did appear, at least, to be usable.
The marshal spoke again. “Do the competitors have any final words before the duel begins?” Though his comment was directed at both alicorn and alphyn, it was clear he was truly only awaiting his liege’s leave to start the duel.
Caldrast seemed content to draw out the moment, as he looked to Cadance. When he spoke, he did not use magic, but simply raised his voice loud enough for all to hear.
“This is the part where you make some impassioned speech to change my heart, is it not? When you persuade me to see the error of my ways and we all have tea together? Is that not how you Equestrians always work, oh princess of love?”
“Would you listen if I did?” Cadance asked, with resignation.
“Of course not,” Caldrast chuckled.
“Then I won’t speak to you.” Cadance’s horn glowed again, as when she spoke, her voice was amplified like the marshal’s had been. If Caldrast was impressed, he gave no sign.
And Cadance spoke. She spoke not to Caldrast, but to the watching alphyns. She spoke of Equestria’s friendship, of their hopes for a better, happier world. Of how they had come to Phynland in good faith, to cement a bargain that would better both their countries, emphasising how the alphyns would gain. Of how hard Twilight had worked to reach this agreement. Of how much Equestria and Phynland would gain by sharing each other’s strength. She appealed to their better natures. She spoke of every virtue she had encountered here and at home. She spoke even when she knew that it would fall on deaf ears. She spoke, because it was the right thing to do.
“That’s my girl,” Shining murmured. “You tell ‘em, sweetie!”
“I don't understand!” Twilight snapped. “How can you be so calm! Cadance is down there in mortal danger! And you... you...!”
She trailed off. Shining stared at her in surprise for a moment then stopped as a sudden realisation dawned on him. He laid a comforting hoof on her shoulder.
“Twily... I'm sorry. Really sorry. You... really don't know, do you? That's why you're so upset.”
“Know? Know what? What do you mean?” Twilight demanded, keeping half an eye on the arena below.
“Cadance will be fine, trust, me. Look, she–”
“Fine? Fine? She's about to fight in arena with a creature twice her size! Hay, he has a sword twice her size! How can she possibly be fine?” A few locks of hair sprung loose from her head.
Shining stared at her worriedly for a moment, considering how best to get through to her when she was in this state. Spike, concerned, tried to split his attention between the arena and agitated alicorn.
“All done?” Caldrast asked when Cadance fell silent at last.
“I guess I am. No sudden change of heart?”
“Alas, no.”
“Just a question left, then,” Cadance said, dropping amplification spell and speaking only to Caldrast, her voice betraying nothing. “Why all this? This was clearly what you wanted from the start. What will you gain?”
Caldrast chuckled. “What do I gain?” He too spoke more quietly. “I could say it would be the humiliation of Equestria, most especially in the failure of its newest Princess,” his gaze flicked briefly to the royal box, “on her first major diplomatic mission. I could say the weakening of Equestria’s power and reputation. I could say it cements my own position, standing and power.
“But all of that is merely... incidental.
“It is all fleeting, you see. Power, position... Wealth, concubines, children... All gone, in time. But history... History remembers. And history will remember me.
“It will remember that I outmanoeuvred one of Equestria’s precious Princesses. It will remember me as a slayer of an alicorn!” Caldrast grinned manically. “The fact that it will be the least of them hardly matters... After all, history remembers only the winners. Do we not remember the famous pincer movement of Hannibull at the battle of Canneigh? But how many fewer remember the low quality of his opponent’s generalship?”
Cadance looked at him, slightly stunned. “This is... this is what you went to all this trouble for? I have met some egomaniacs in my time, but... wow.”
“Egomaniac, I might be, but I shall at least be an egomaniac history remembers!” Caldrast pronounced triumphantly.
“Um, okay,” Shining said at last, watching the unheard exchange of words between the two combatants. “Let me try and explain it this way. What is Princess Celestia?”
“Uh... an alicorn? What does this have to do with–” Twilight started, confused by the abrupt change of subject.
“Humour me,” her brother replied. “No, what I mean is, what is her job, no... Her... title? Maybe? Aside,” he added quickly, “from being the one of the rulers of Equestria?”
“The... Princess of the Sun?” Twilight replied, wondering where her BBBFF was going with this.
“Right. And what is Princess Luna?”
“Princess of the Moon?” Spike chirped up, a claw full of rubies.
Shining glanced at him and nodded, before turning back to Twilight. “And you?”
“Princess of Friendship.” Twilight said with more certainty.
Shining nodded once more. “And Cadance?”
“Protector of the Crystal Empire.” Twilight said it, almost without thinking, and then stopped.
Shining smiled again in answer. “One of those things is not like the others, right?”
Cadance sighed, closing her eyes with resignation. “Okay, then.”
“The Peryton have a legend, you know,” Caldrast hissed, eyes sparkling with maniacal glee. “They say that they cast a shadow that is not their own, until they eat the heart of the creature their shadow forms. And only then do they cast a shadow of themselves. What shadow, I wonder, will I cast, when I eat your heart, Princess?”
Cadance opened her eyes, her expression clear and determined. “And now I feel a lot less sorry about this,” she muttered under her breath. The blue glow around her weighty blade disappeared, and it crashed to the floor, where the impact puffed up a small cloud of dust.
“You yield already?” Caldrast sneered, his voice rising to address the masses once more. “I had hoped you might at least put up a token effort...”
“No,” Cadance replied cheerfully, amplifying her voice again as well. “Thanks, but I don’t need to borrow your sword. I have my own.”
Caldrast laughed. “Surely you cannot be so foolish. I know of your Crystal Empire's crystal blades. While such a fragile weapon might serve to fight a pony, it cannot stand against a blade like mine!”
Above, Twilight grimaced. Caldrast had a point. She had seen the crystal blades used before in the Empire. Created by a modified crystallisation spell, they formed a thin blade not unlike a rapier. They were fast, light weapons, but even magically reinforced crystal was fragile. Against Caldrast's heavy sword, he would have both the advantage of reach and power. Surely Cadance knew that, she’d be better off with–
“Oh, I don't know how make one of those,” Cadance replied guilelessly.
Caldrast blinked, abruptly taken aback.
“Been meaning to get around to learning,” she continued conversationally, as her horn lit, “but I never seem to find the time. But,” she said with a rather-too-bright smile. “I did learn this from Princess Celestia...”
Her horn glowed, and above her head a nebulous pale blue field began to appear, shimmering blue sparks of light scattering outward. Within the field, the magic began to take solid shape.
Twilight shot Shining a surprised glance. She recognised the spell from its description in various texts – some historical, some magical – though she had never seen it cast before in person.
“Princess Celestia taught her to summon her own divine weapon?” Twilight knew from history, that in the long-past years when Celestia (and presumably Luna too) had been called to fight at the head of an army, she had created a spell that wove itself into a physical weapon, a manifestation of herself in weapon form, as beautiful and terrible as the sun. It was not something that even Celestia herself had used for a long time. In the days before she no longer took the field, she had relied on other magic, as the unfortunate art of battle magic had evolved. So for her to teach Cadance, of all ponies, seemed... more than a little strange, as by all accounts, it was a rather complex spell.
Shining chuckled quietly. “Twily... what do you think Cadance did before the Empire returned?”
Twilight stared at him in surprise. “I... don’t know. We lost touch after she stopped being my foalsitter. I... just thought she was off doing... I don’t know, princess-y things?” That sounded odd, even to herself, now she said it out loud. As Celestia’s personal student, she hadn’t seen Cadance around very often, but had chalked that up to her own increasing reclusiveness and then to the fact she had been in Ponyville. But now that she thought about it, she saw Cadance far less than she ought to have had if Cadance hadn't been doing something else. The thought that she might not know about part of one her family’s lives was rather unsettling. “So... what was she doing?”
“Well, somepony had to keep dealing all the crises that keep popping up, right?” Shining said jovially. “The ones the Guard couldn’t handle. Who do you think dealt with all the villains and monster attacks before you and the girls came along?”
“I... never really thought about it.” Twilight blinked. “You mean that... Cadance...? But she’s... Her special talent is love, isn’t it?”
Shining’s gaze drifted over to his wife and the complex matrix of the spell she was weaving as Caldrast watched, nonplussed but apparently unconcerned.
“Twily, why do we fight? The monsters and villains, I mean. You and I, the princesses, the guards... Why do we do what we do?”
“To... protect ponies,” Twilight answered slowly. “Because they can’t protect themselves. Because it’s the right thing to do?”
Shining turned his gaze back to Twilight. “All true, but keep going. What makes us want to – or need to – do that? What made you finally snap and fight Tirek?”
Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “He blew up my house! And he nearly...” She shuddered. “He nearly...! He... Owliscious...”
“And that made you mad.”
“Of course it did, it–”
“But more than that, it gave you strength, right? To fight? Why?”
“Because,” Twilight began hotly, “he threatened somepony I...
“...love...” she finished, her eyes widening.
The coruscating field from Cadance’s spell intensified, tinting the arena with a soft blue glow and throwing everything into sharp relief.
Shining beamed. “We fight to protect, to defend: out of love, out of compassion. Aren’t we at our strongest, when we’re defending our loved ones?
“You and the girls wield the power of Friendship and you’ve worked miracles with it. The power of Love is just as strong, too. But it’s more intense, more focussed – often more personal... And when dealing with someone that threatens it, someone who won’t back down, who won’t repent...it can also be less forgiving.
“This,” he said, indicating his cutie-mark with a nod of his horn, “represents me, and the guard, and our desire to protect – to shield – the citizens of Equestria from harm. But sometimes, as you know yourself, that’s not enough.”
“Which is why Cadance and I make a good team. I’m the shield...”
With a flare of her horn, Cadance finished her spell. With a last flash of light, the matrix coalesced into the solid form of a sword.
The first thing about it everyone noticed, was that it looked exactly like the sort of sword a young filly dreaming of being a princess might have drawn in crayon[1]. It was pink. It was gold. There were red gems in the shape of hearts imbedded in it. The word “delicate” and “fluted” were definitely applicable, and “frilly” was watching from over the fence with a keen eye. Little pink love-hearts rose off the blade into the air above it and popped with bright sparkles.
It was, in fact, the single most feminine, girly-looking sword that any of the observers had ever seen.
It was, in fact, so stereotypically feminine that it took all of the observers a few seconds to register the second thing about it.
Which was that it was ten feet long.
Shining turned to the Twilight who was staring with shock, jaw agape, and gently reached a hoof to close her open mouth.
He grinned wickedly. “... and Cadance is the sword.”
[1] This was, in fact, not entirely far from the truth.