> Regenfall
>  by Flammenwerfer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1. Ascension
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ‘Gathering Room’ hidden away from the Parliament’s main chamber was as empty as it could be for its lone inhabitant… but at least for her, it held an innate sense of tranquility she had been sorely lacking these past few weeks.

The way that all the masterfully painted portraits of rulers past—her family, ancestors, and predecessors alike—were so painstakingly interspersed on each of the four polished walls was a small marvel for her. For exactly three of these portraits there were two smaller, ‘supporting’ canvases of the beautiful lands of Alemaneia flanking them. 

A pattern. A sense of order and calculated deliberateness so simple that even she admired it.

Or rather, she envied it. It was the little things that truly mattered, after all.

The undoubtedly packed parliament building’s sounds could not be heard from within her little borrowed sanctuary, much to her comfort. The only sounds that graced her ears—their sharp tips accented with golden earrings in the form of an eagle’s wings—was the sound of her own hoof-falls.

She put thought into each and every step she took. One golden-shoed hoof in front of the other as she paced in a perfectly straight line from each end of the room. She fell back on a slowed down marching cadence that was instilled to her during her recent years at military academy. She honed her eyes onto the wooden floor beneath her, tracing the lines where each piece lined up with its neighbors.

Her eyes found the base of the wall for the umpteenth time, and she halted her trek where she stood. She allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she willed a deep, much needed breath into her lungs. Upon her exhale and a shaky, anxious sigh, she further steeled her resolve.

The mare’s focus was ruined, however, upon the gentle creaking of one of the entrance doors on the opposite side of the room as it swung open.

“Forgive me, Your Highness… but she’s here,” came the soft, but pointed words from behind her back that she had been hoping to hear for the last half an hour.

She took another deep breath, willed her steely, regal expression into existence, and turned on her hooves. She could sense the sudden bout of unease in her royal administrator the moment she locked her gaze onto his, but it left as quickly as it came when she was addressed further:

“She’d like to speak with you… shall I send her in?”

She blinked at him once, and in hearing those words, she let the right side of her lips curl upward just a smidge.

She nodded.

“Thank you. Please—send her in at once,” she delivered her reply.

Her servant bowed his head deeply in acknowledgement.

“Right away, Queen Regenfall.”

Regenfall knew she had only a couple of seconds to do a quick once-over before somepony very important entered the room… arguably more important that she would ever be in the course of her life. This pony had been more of a mentor—and dare she say, a friend—to her in the past years as she prepared for the inevitable.

But still, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t look her absolute best in front of her at all times. Impressions mattered consistently, or so Regenfall thought.

The moment the door closed, Regenfall sprinted towards the other side of the room where one of the only mirrors rested on the wall.

Once she found her own bright golden eyes—framed by meticulously curled eyelashes— staring back at her, she quickly ran her hoof through her straight, cyan mane, careful to avoid the golden crown above her head… a crown that held so much weight and meaning in that lone spike that sat atop the skullcap.

She scrutinized every bit of her coat on her narrow face, and nothing but gray follicles could be seen—free of blemishes and impurities. Her navy-blue royal uniform was shined and pressed to perfection, where somepony may have assumed it was sewn or even painted on her form. All the various medals made of multiple valuable alloys and purities that were passed down from her father hung in a neat row on her breast.

Her imperial sash woven with the colors of her flag was displayed proudly across her chest—it was her first true presentation in front of the parliament as the new ruler. She had to be dressed for the occasion, after all. 

Regenfall let loose a shaky, shuddered breath as reality had finally sunk in. She was it.

All those years of preparation… all those merciless hours of studying under the finest scholars… her mandatory service in the army and her eventual commission as an officer…

...and to the abdication of the throne by her father. The final pieces had come together, and the official coronation had gone without a hitch.

She was now the Queen… a fledgling Empress to a nascent, booming empire. She was the Kaiserin.

She gulped, still facing herself in the mirror before drawing her gaze over towards the newest portrait in the room—one that had been added yesterday: an official portrait of herself in an ever so slightly more formal uniform, sans her crown. 

Her painted self stared back unfazed… powerful and regal. Not in the slightest a reflection of her current torrent of emotions.

Under the portrait she read the simple title engraved within the golden plate:

Regenfall IV.

The door creaked open.

Regenfall whipped her head towards the entrance with a start.

Her heart rate ceased to pound against the inside of her chest like an annoyed beast at the sight of the pony who walked in… the one whose motherly lectures had been a calming voice of reason for her over the past many years at the request of her parents.

One whose coat was white as alabaster and with a prismatic mane that seemed to gently whip in an unseen wind like her nation’s flag.

Regenfall let out a sigh of relief and smiled proudly—likely not fooling her most noble guest in the slightest as she softly walked to meet her.

“Princess Celestia…” she spoke the tongue of her guest in her thick, Alemaneian accent.

Her guest returned her proud smile, and opted to do the exact opposite in terms of mother tongue:

“And good morning to you, Princess Regenfall… Or perhaps the winds of change have told me that you’ve been…” 

Celestia hung on her last word, twirling her hoof as if stirring her mind for the right vocabulary. Nevertheless, Regenfall felt her warmth when the Equestrian Diarch righted her hoof right at her heart—at her imperial sash.

“...promoted,” she punctuated with a coy smirk.

Regenfall giggled into her own hoof—partly at Celestia’s remark, and partly because she couldn’t believe the little ‘gag’ they had going since they had been introduced all those years ago was still running: she herself would speak Equestrian, and Celestia would speak Alemaneian.

She never knew why the decided on this. They just rolled with it, and it’s been their little ‘thing’ ever since.

Regenfall added somewhat awkwardly:

“Heh… that’s one way to put it,” she said.

Celestia cocked her head.

“You seem… unsettled,” she noted.

Regenfall let her own nervousness manifest in the form of more awkward giggling as she pawed at the floor.

She then spit out her feelings with less-than-veiled sarcasm:

“Oh no… not at all! I just became the newest ruler of an upcoming empire… and the youngest ruler of all my contemporaries. What could I possibly be unsettled about? Nervous? I’m not nervous! You’re nervous!” she said as she began to pace.

Celestia rolled her eyes and chuckled as Regenfall paced away from her. Nevertheless the newest ruler felt the maternal presence of her taller, powerful counterpart from over an ocean away.

“It’s quite alright to be nervous, Regenfall…” Celestia cooed, and willing the two of them to stop in the middle of the room.

Though Regenfall did her best to hide it, she couldn’t help the anxiety-fueled tears beginning to spill over and down her beautiful face.

She said nothing as she felt a reassuring, golden-plated hoof rest on her back.

“This was a small lifetime in the making. The pressure was… unbearable at times, surely. But you made it. Since I was asked by your parents to guide you, I’ve watched you grow and pass milestones beyond expectations.

“I’ve known you since you were a teenager… but even after all these years, I want you to know that nopony will ever be ready for something like this.”

Regenfall quietly listened and let her eyes fall shut as Celestia’s voice continued to ethereally massage her nerves into a much calmer state. Internally she felt that if she could hire Celestia to talk to her about anything and nothing at all, she would probably fall asleep and have the best sleep experiences in all the land.

“But you…” Celestia continued. “You—I feel—are as ready as you will ever be. Most ponies in your position would have to watch their entire lives go by before they feel worthy of their thrones.

“But your father abdicating not long ago was no accident. He, too, feels you are ready. He has probably already told you this, but his words are genuine.”

Regenfall finally opened her eyes and gazed up and over at Celestia, who stared back with pride and fondness.

“You can do this, Regenfall. Like your father, and your grandmother before you.”

Regenfall’s eyes lit up.

“You did know my grandmother, didn’t you?”

Celestia nodded once and smiled brightly.

“I did. And if she were still around today, rest assured she would be so proud of you.”

Regenfall had expended the last of the tears she felt she needed to, and with Celestia’s reassurance, she could feel her pride and happiness chiseling a smile on her face.

However, she felt the last vestiges of her nervousness go forth and grab hold of her heart, and she turned her regally-dressed self away from her mentor.

“What if they don’t like me? What if they won’t have me?”

Though she couldn’t see her, Regenfall could practically feel the confusion radiating off of Celestia.

“What do you mean? The ministers? You’ve met with them all! Your coalition backs you fully and the opposition has expressed full willingness to work with you…”

Regenfall shook her head.

“No, no…” she began, then turned back towards Celestia, feeling her hopefulness pooling in her eyes.

“My ponies.”

Celestia’s look of shock instantly morphed into one of relief and pride.

“Oh Regenfall… if there was one thing that always warmed my heart about you, it was your love and concern for the average pony.

“You’ve shown time and time again your willingness to not only interact with the public, but genuinely mingle with them—understand them. Parties, charity drives, construction projects, and even your enlistment in the military as a common pony…” Celestia pointed out.

Regenfall felt the upcurl of the right side of her lips when Celestia pointed out what didn’t seem so obvious at first. She was right though—Regenfall was never one for lavish lifestyle of the royals, and the most she enjoyed was her regal getup that she currently had on… mainly because she earned all the militarily-affiliated medals, lapels, and sashes that were adorned on her.

She had always felt much more comfortable with the common ponies and amongst soldiers, rather than her ministers and her contemporaries when she would accompany her father and grandmother on diplomatic missions.

“The common pony has shown their love for you as their Princess… I have full confidence they will embrace you as their Queen,” Celestia finished.

Regenfall took a deep, calming breath and sighed out. Armed with the reassurance from the greatest mentor she could ask for, she held her head high and puffed her chest out. Her nervous tears had dried and the final sniffles had been expended. She channeled the confidence that she would use to go about her day as a Princess, and would take as similar of an approach as possible now as Queen.

She channeled honor.

She channeled regality.

She channeled her will of steel.

And she would channel the power now-vested within her as Alemaneia’s Kaiserin.

She met Celestia’s unchanged, prideful visage with her own aura of regality. She nodded once, curtly.

“Very well, my most noble teacher. Then I think I’m ready. Any final words of wisdom for a brand new ruler?” she asked with an air of both coyness and seriousness that had become the norm between her and Celestia over the last decade.

Celestia giggled but nodded.

“There's nothing left that you haven't heard, but I can reiterate some of the highlights. Of course!”

The continent’s newest, youngest ruler paid her full attention as Celestia stood tall in front of her.

Her words came with the appropriate gesturing of her right hoof:

“You are the supreme ruler of this nation—you have theoretical control over all. 

“As you have learned, delegate appropriately. Let Parliament run the day-to-day. Resist the urge to lift your hoof unless a decision must be made, or you truly know deep in your heart you must intervene directly. Only you can truly determine when the latter is necessary.”

Regenfall nodded, and Celestia continued.

“When you must directly rule—rule firmly, yet justly. Your nation—your empire only exists because of your citizens. You want them to smile when they see your face, either in-pony, in the newspaper, or even at the mere mention of your name.”

Celestia’s expression darkened for the briefest of moments.

“Make humble your heart and keep it humble, my dear Regenfall… or I assure you it will be torn from your living, breathing chest.”

Regenfall gulped but nodded nonetheless. It made perfect sense, and Celestia took the cue to continue:

“Similarly, make sure you are known to your domain. Do not let your presence and legacy languish on the throne you will sit your flank and haunches on.”

The new queen didn’t get much of a chance to react before Celestia brought her pointing hoof right in front of her face in a rather poignant gesture:

“Your job as ruler is to protect all your subjects. All of them. Keep the peace and happiness. Sacrifices and tradeoffs are a part of life, and you will make mistakes. Be honest and true to yourself and your nation when you fumble.

“However, politics does not exist in a vacuum. I’m well aware of Alemaneia’s regional rivals… in the spirit of ways that have existed for centuries, all eyes will be upon you.

“You are young. You are fresh. You are an unknown quantity to the competition. Lessons through your travels should have kept you well abreast of the fact that your rivals will attempt to outmaneuver you.”

Regenfall watched and felt as Celestia placed her hoof on her shoulder. She never broke eye-contact, however.

Celestia added with no small sliver of crypticism:

“You have a powerful, loyal, well-trained military that looks up to you. Force should only be used as a last resort to defend your subjects and your home.

“However, do not allow yourself to be a doormat. In the spirit of defense and integrity, if you must resort to sabre rattling, do not make threats you that you cannot follow through with.”

Regenfall bristled at the thought, and she remembered the talk of the war that was fought under the rulership of her grandmother… before Alemaneia was even a fully united nation and empire that it was now.

She shook her head.

She would not be that pony. 

She loved her subjects. She would only want to raise them up to or surpass the standards that other nations enjoy… never to hurt them or bring them hardship.

Looking up at Celestia, she understood her purpose now, completely. She understood what she had to do, and how to (somewhat) approach it. She was determined to leave a legacy… a legacy as the best ruler this nation had ever witnessed and embraced. She would be the ruler that would place their nation on the pedestal that other world powers rested on.

Alemaneia would have his place in the sun, for all citizens to bask in its reflected glory.

And with one final nod, she was ready.

Kaiserin Regenfall the Fourth was ready.

“Thank you, Celestia… for everything,” she said.

Celestia smiled brightly and nodded once before bestowing a gentle nuzzle onto the new ruler.

“The pleasure was all mine. You are my friend… and you may write to me any time you have any questions. And you will always be welcome in Equestria,” she said.

With one last pat of the young Kaiserin’s shoulder, she would usher her forward.

“You’re destined for greatness, Regenfall… the Dauntless that you are. This I know. Go and make it so!”

She smirked at the little nickname that Celestia had given her as a teenager… and yet somehow at twenty-five, she would hope to harness the energy that gave her that name in the first place.

And I shall make it so.

Once again channeling that steely resolve, and with Celestia’s eyes upon her, Regenfall marched forward towards the lone entrance and exit to her hitherto sanctuary.

She placed her shoe-clad hoof onto the knob and looked back toward Celestia one last time, and was pleasantly surprised to find her trotting over.

“You look so surprised—I can’t watch your speech from back here, now can I? You have a rather… rousing way with words.” she reminded.

Regenfall ‘juggled’ her head for a moment in ‘profound’ realization.

“Of course… wouldn’t want to miss that, right?”

With that, she turned the doorknob and pushed it forward, letting the natural light that shone through the various window-panes of the Parliament gathering hall hit her all at once. The sensory overload that was once hundreds and hundreds of ponies chit-chatting was silenced within seconds by her mere presence.

She paid it no mind, and welcomed the momentary blindness to her audience as she autonomically marched her way to the ebony-wooden speaker’s podium.

The temporary blindness receded, and as she ascended those final steps to the podium, the view of the entire, packed parliament overtook her vision completely. There she stood, silently drawing her gaze over the half-circle arrangement of the sea of ponies.

Scanning her eyes from the right, she found all her supporting ministers from her coalition… who silently smiled or conveyed their wordless, full support for her. On the left sat the rest of the technicolor lake of ponies… ministers who regarded her not with contempt nor suspicion… but rather, willing yet unconvinced.

Gazing back over her massive, well-dressed audience, she found even more ponies interspersed in the spaces between the wings, as well as wherever there was extra space to stand—reporters and journalists ready to take notes, and cameras and microphones ready to send her message to the waiting masses outside.

An entire country couldn’t fit into a single Parliament building next to the Royal Palace, after all.

Regenfall spared a quick glance behind her, and found the vacant throne—her throne that she would occupy during Parliamentary gatherings. It rested higher than she currently stood, and was built into a golden sculpture of an eagle flaring its wings.

Silence continued to reign supreme… almost eerily so for Regenfal, as when drawing her eyes back over her audience, all she could hear was the occasional cough, sniffle, and camera shutter…

...all awaiting their stoic-faced, regal-aura’d ruler to utter her first words as ruler to the nation.

Regenfall then—out of the corner of her eye—spotted Celestia flanked by two Alemaneian Honor Guards. Once their eyes locked, the Equestrian diarch gave her an excited wave, urging her onward.

That was all she needed.

Even though her crown, for some reason, felt like it was made of solid silver and weighing her head down… she raised herself on her hind legs and placed both her front hooves on the podium for support, as was customary when ready to speak.

Her mouth was now aligned with the unassuming microphones in front of her. On cue, the entire Parliamentary wring erupted in polite applause—not deafening, but acknowledging her presence.

Sparing nary a smile nor a frown… merely a stoic expression to all in attendance, Regenfall swept her eyes over her audience one last time as she held them on the edge of their seats despite applause.

She raised her right hoof, and the room quieted at an instant. 

Regenfall sighed out, took one last, deep breath, and spoke commandingly in her native tongue while gesturing appropriately:

“Today, I do not address the Parliament… nor the reporters with their cameras… nor even the ponies who stand beyond the confines of this room.

“Today I address all of Alemaneia. As a single entity! One nation!”

She heard her voice echo through the Parliament hall, and she could hear the camera shutters having a field day with her image. Despite her previous nervousness, public speaking was something she found herself at home in… and in treating this like any other oration, she willed herself calm, collected, and stoic.

She was one. 

“As with the path of succession in the house of Waldnacht before my family, and now with my current house of Schleier… fate has seen it that it is now my time to rule not as a Princess, but as a Queen.”

Regenfall paused for the briefest time, and swung her gaze over her audience.

“Many would look upon this time as something to spare nary a breath at. Others feel this is a time for great rejoice! But I?

“I see this as a time of reflection!”

She could hear the scattered murmurs at her words—and she smirked internally. Exactly as planned—her ability to command attention with her projected voice had only improved over time.

“I see this moment… this hour as a time for asking ourselves who we truly are, as a country? As Alemaneia?

“Are we a nation by ethnicity?” she asked rhetorically, then shook her head.

“No… we are all ponies…  ponies of the Earth, the Sky, the Aether… and even of the Night! We come from all walks of life! Even now, I see a technicolor sea of my kin who I would gladly stand beside in defense of our virtues!” she said, and drew her golden-shoed hoof over her oratory canvas.

“But no… Alemaneia is not a nation merely of shared blood and soil. Our empire is unique in one aspect from our neighbors…

“We are an idea. We are a faith!”

The rhythm of her words—words which she felt spawned and fell so naturally from her mouth—took hold of her fully. 

She thrust her hooves outward.

“Not long ago were we squabbling, petulant children of kingdoms tearing each other’s throats out over petty quarrels! Yet here we stand. 

“United!” she exclaimed.

“United in an idea of Alemaneia… United in a faith that we place within each other—holding ourselves to collective, higher standards worthy of Imperial statehood! Deserving of respect and reverence!”

Regenfall was somewhat aware of her long, flowing mane bouncing at the fringes of her vision with every bit of gesticulation. Her cares were placed elsewhere as her confidence brimmed to new heights. She had not felt this comfortable in her own flesh and blood in weeks!

“And this is an image forged not by one pony… nor dozens… but all of us! As one!

“One Idea!

“One Faith!

“One Nation!

“One Empire!”

She saw ponies literally sitting on the edges of their seats. This time, she did not bother to hide her pride nor the smirk that came with it.

“And I?” she asked aloud.

“I’m but a face. A face with the privilege to stand here today in our wondrous capital city of Siegstadt and show you—all of Alemaneia—that a new era has come! An era of prosperity! An era of respect! An era of pride!

“An era of belonging.”

Regenfall raised her head high, and looked down upon an enraptured audience. Not even the reporters were diligently tending to their equipment… seeming to prefer to listen to her in the moment.

Celestia herself appeared collected yet… floored all the same. She was stricken in the best ways of surprise, but proud nonetheless.

This was the final bit of motivation that Regenfall craved to take her to her crescendo:

“Our shared legends that go back to the dawn of time tell of a final Place in the Sun where all our likeness can finally bask in prosperity and greatness.

“And after centuries… as the newest, youngest Queen of this young, beautiful nation I call home… I declare that the new age be the Age of the Sun. And I intend to see to it fully that we all have our rightful place amongst equals!”

She raised a single, pointed hoof.

“This shall be my goal, which I shall personally see to the end… either to completion as the Grand Dream!”

She hung on her words for a couple rests.

“Or to my death… or my abdication of this very title and throne for such an inexcusable failure. This is my only promise to you!”

And with all resolve that she could surge through her blood, she poured her heart and soul into her final words of her short speech:

“I then ask… who of all of you, will help me, and work with me to ascend our nation to greatness unlike we have ever seen since our formation?

“WHO WILL ALLOW ME TO STAND WITH THEM, AS QUEEN... AND EMPRESS OF THE GREATER ALEMANEIAN EMPIRE!?”

The reaction was so instantaneous that she would have doubled backward were it not for the massive amount of weight she placed in her hind legs. All ponies in the room—ministers, reporters, foreign dignitaries, civilians—stood from their seats in rapturous ovation.

And a collective chant manifested so perfectly—one that harbored the answer Regenfall was truly hoping for deep in her heart—it might as well have been a literal spell.

She embraced it… on a physical and ethereal level as she beamed. She let her eyes fall shut as the first chants graced her ‘wing-tipped’ ears:

“RISE, QUEEN REGENFALL!

“LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!”

.

.


“RISE, QUEEN REGENFALL!

“LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!”

.

.


“RISE, QUEEN REGENFALL!

“LONG 

“LIVE 

“THE QUEEN!”
> 2. Gamble
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------








[Four Years Later]








The music was some of the best that she had ever heard, not that she had been on this earth for very long to come to an objective conclusion.

The trumpets wailed, the percussion expertly laid out the cadence, and the rest of the batpony band flexed their musical prowess… all coming together with the well-dressed thestral stallion who was really getting the crowd going with that silky voice of his. He had full command of every pony—straight mares and gay stallions especially—on the massive dance floor…

...this bunch was a collective master of their trade. The thousands beyond thousands in attendance were enraptured—even more the hundreds content to dance the night away.

Queen Regenfall was no exception. She forgot how amazing it felt when it hurt to smile so wide.

The last few months of diplomatic travel all over Foalshevia and Mareitonia, as well as touring Alemaneian military bases… and overseeing the renewing of trade negotiations had dulled her sharp edges and run her into the ground. She had not been able to even sit, catch her breath, nor process everything since this gargantuan ‘to-do’ list was thrust upon her.

She knew well that life as a ruler would be much more demanding, stressful, and overall just generally more difficult despite the afforded pleasantries therein. However, when she was able to have fun in her way after all had been inked and closed, it helped her appreciate it more… even after her first four years as Kaiserin.

She was finally able to sleep for twenty hours straight one night to recoup what working entire days had taken from her.

She was finally able to get some proper military physical training in with her soldiers to let off the stress and ‘get back into shape,’ as she would say—she was still guilty about how much Mareitonian food she indulged in during her visits.

And perhaps most importantly for her, she was finally able to enjoy one of the best times of the year… Siegstadt’s (really the entire country’s) most popular celebration of the year—The Unification Festival.

Regenfall paid the whole purpose of this night some thought deep within the back of her mind… even as the forefront of her existence was too busy swaying in whichever way the music took her. It was a night of remembrance when all the little kingdoms that had a shared Alemaneian language decided to unite in order to fight off invasion on all sides.

After a short but deadly war, and after the threat of invasion had been driven off, the individual kingdoms realized how effective they were together… how seamlessly they worked to aid their fellow pony. They realized that it was much better to stay together, united under their shared history, language, and goals… than to go their separate ways and wait for this process to repeat itself.

And thus, on this day of the twenty-first night of September, nearly sixty years ago, the modern Alemaneian Empire was proclaimed and founded after tense negotiations throughout the night.

It was also decreed that festivals would be held all over Alemaneia to commemorate the process and for citizens to celebrate their identity… by partying throughout the night with copius amounts of drinking involved.

Regenfall was a citizen of this great nation… and despite being the supreme ruler, she was determined to exercise her right to party all damn night.

She had been well-underway with exercising this goal since she arrived to give a speech to all in attendance in Siegstadt. That was her only royal duty, and beyond that, she was free to do as she pleased… which meant that she had been one of the first on the dance floor. Her hooves were sore by this point in the night just by dancing… and her more casual uniform was a bit moist on the inside from her sweat despite the cooler evening. Her mind placed her cares elsewhere. 

Tonight, was her night.

Regenfall had been trained as a dancer as part of her royal curriculum, and apart from being Queen, she had an uncanny ability to draw a small crowd. Her fluid, nigh-perfect movements in tune with the upbeat nature of the celebratory songs certainly captivated more than her fair share of attention…

…especially from stallions, which she snickered once she saw them out of the corner of her eye.

Perhaps more tragically for her, nopony asked her to dance.

Regenfall had gone to extensive lengths to make sure she was approachable by the common pony since her days as a Princess—from foregoing direct flanking of honor guard troops to outright approaching ponies on the streets for idle chit-chat. But despite casting inviting glances to various, clearly interested stallions, their trepidation was as amusing as it was palatable for her.

That’s one of the many times she wished she could read minds. Perhaps they were afraid of approaching her… and then immediately getting tackled by plainclothes guards that were hidden in the crowd?

Perhaps they feared her shouting them down and laying her legendary voice into them for daring to approach her?

She actually giggled out loud at that thought… which she wanted to think helped her approachability after flipping her mane out of her vision. She also knew well that the strung-up lights—which crisscrossed the entire festival and bathed it in a soft, incandescent glow that was easy on the eyes to help light up the night—gave her golden eyes an alluring glow to them.

Combine that with the right amount of dolling-up for the occasion and how well her uniform fit her… she knew she was looking gorgeous.

In the end, Regenfall couldn’t fault any of them—she was the Queen, after all.

She twirled in place during an upswing in the tempo… and out of the corner of her eye she spotted a lone stallion—blue to the coat—taking extremely calculated and anxious steps forward.

More humorously, she found—presumably—his friends egging him on. She admired the courage, nonetheless.

She ended her twirl just as he stepped into her personal space… and she smiled brightly at him ear-to-ear.

“Guten Abend!” she greeted, throwing part of her long mane back behind her ear… which tactically revealed her favorite wing-tipped earrings.

The poor stallion was almost frozen and shivering in an invisible arctic gust.

“H-Hallo, m-meine Königin… erm, Kaiserin…” he himself shakily greeted, then placed his hoof to her chest and bowed his head out of respect.

Regenfall giggled at the gesture and rolled her eyes playfully whilst extending her right hoof.

“Oh there shall be none of that tonight! Care to dance?” she invited and fluttered her eyelashes for added effect.

That definitely perked him up, and he appeared to shed that initial reticence.

“Ja, natürlich!” he replied with much more gusto, and took her hoof.

Regenfall could feel her wide smile carving dimples into her face.

Finally!

She pulled him closer into a more traditional—and more intimate—hold, much to the stallions readily apparent surprise.

“Relax, good sir! Follow my lead…” she said.

And follow her lead he did… quite well in her opinion. Over the next few minutes, she led him in the common Waltz and happily showed him where to place his hooves, how to hold her, and just how to keep doing what he was doing.

He did well, in Regenfall’s opinion, despite him averting his eyes—clearly nervously—from the sustained eye contact with her.

The nameless stallion got the hang of it, though… and had completely foregone his shyness by this point once he figuratively and literally got into the groove.

Regenfall noticed movement next to her, and to her pleasant surprise, found another stallion—orange coat and clad in a classy-looking vest—coming up to her.

He then boldly asked:

“May I have the next dance?”

The first stallion—seemingly having gotten enough attention for one night—seemed more than happy to relinquish his position.

“Please!” he invited…

And Regenfall met his gaze when he turned to her.

“Thank you so much for the dance, Your Highness,” he thanked with a simple bow much like earlier.

Regenfall smiled brightly, and again fluttered her lashes.

“Thank you, sir!”

As the first stallion skipped away, Regenfall was again pleasantly surprised when this newcomer offered his hoof to her, first.

“My Queen, may I have this dance?”

Regenfall giggled into her hoof all girly-like. It was the first time in a good while that she had felt her chest flutter.

She placed her right hoof into his and met his confident gaze with a curtsy.

“I’d be adored!”

She allowed herself to be led in no particular dance… and in fact, much like she was dancing on her own, the two of them ended up improvising the entire time, dependent on the current beat of the current song. Regenfall lost track of time entirely as she danced with her new partner—one who was certainly experienced in the art.

They had drawn a crowd, and a small lake of ponies surrounded them as they circled each other, vying for supremacy in a little, silent dancing game of theirs that nopony else was in on.

It hurt to smile in all the best ways—her looking undignified with her now somewhat unkept mane and sweat-laden face was of no concern to her.

And on the final note after… how ever long they had been at this was played, Regenfall’s partner dipped her low, much to an uncontrollable chorus of laughter and squealing from her mouth. The applause that came forth from the crowd was deafening—none could really tell whether it was for the band or for the Queen and her partner.

Regenfall placed all of her hooves back on solid ground once her partner released her, but just as she was about to thank him for a most lovely dance, she heard a disturbance from the crowd.

She snapped her face towards the sounds and flicked her ears. The chorus of grunts and gentle yelps could be heard as a familiar, official-looking pony carved a swathe through the audience. A well-dressed unicorn burst through the inner layer of ponies, flanked by two in-uniform royal guards.

Regenfall would’ve rolled her eyes at one of her royal advisors—Nachtsicht—coming to physically wrangle her. What made her rethink chastising him on the spot during her de facto day off, however, was the rather potent urgency plastered on his cream-colored face.

“Queen Regenfall…” he said, then hastily bowed.

Regenfall beckoned him to rise.

“What is it, Nachtsicht?”

Her advisor’s legs were splayed out, ready to sprint at an instant.

“Your Highness, something’s happened. I sincerely apologize but you must come with me immediately!”

His tone brooked no argument, and Regenfall knew that if Nachtsicht had personally come to gather her, something truly important must have transpired.

She turned to her dance partner, who had given her some room once her advisor had made his entrance and smirked regretfully.

“Thank you so much for the wonderful time… but I must ask that you pardon me for needing to make a hasty exit,” she said.

To his credit, he merely bowed.

“Of course, My Queen! Duty calls. Thank you for the honor!” he said, placing his hoof on his heart and smiling back.

Regenfall nodded thankfully, and then turned to Nachtsicht.

“Very well, lead on! This better be good…”

“‘Good’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe this, Your Majesty…”







 


[Alemaneian Imperial Palace | Situation Room]


 







 


The Situation Room within the Imperial Palace was as no-nonsense in its setup as its name would indicate: a simple, ebony wooden long table with chairs perfectly spaced around its edges. Eight Royal Guards lined the interior perimeter of the room, two on each side of the rectangular room.

Regenfall had just gotten comfortable at the head of the table, barely able to wipe her face off or just get clean enough from the night’s festivities. Though she internally grumbled over this (both being dragged from her fun and not being able to even tidy up), she figured the urgency of the alleged matter at hand would supersede her desire to always look presentable.

Through parts of her matted, unkempt mane, she spied the appropriate ponies (she presumed) filtering into the room one by one and taking their seats. Nachtsicht sat at her immediate right adjacent to her—most fitting, in her eyes.

Through her ruminations about what might have happened and why she was kept in the dark through the entire journey back home, she also drew her gaze over to her adjacent left.

There sat Generalfeldmarschall Vorschlaghammer—General of the Imperial Alemaneian Army. Clad in the Imperial, gray officer’s uniform and accompanying visor-cap, the gargantuan rank insignias adorned on his lapels and chest were intimidating in their own right.

His burly build, on top of the several scars and wrinkles on his face attributed to battle and age combined to form somepony who unquestioningly looked his part.

His experience had never failed him either. Regenfall always trusted his judgement—and in hindsight, she figured that if he was here, whatever happened was of great military importance, too.

Regenfall impatiently (and with the addition of caffeine and anxiousness to know) tapped her hoof on her chair as the final ponies were taking their seats—other high and lower level military officers, and Alemaneian diplomats.

Hmph. A full circus…

After a couple more minutes of servants making their rounds with tea and other light snacks, they were promptly dismissed, and Nachtsicht took the lead:

“Alright… looks like everypony’s present, so let’s get on with it, shall we?”
 
Regenfall ushered him onward with a flick of her hoof.

“Ja, bitte. Was ist passiert?” she plainly asked—she couldn’t take the ambiguity anymore.

Wordlessly, Nachtsicht motioned towards Vorschlaghammer with his hoof, placing all attention on him.

He nodded and spoke in his commanding, deep voice.

“Danke…”

…and then addressed Regenfall directly:

“Kaiserin Regenfall… It is lovely to see you again… though I wish on better circumstances.”

He then placed a large, detailed paper map in front of her. Regenfall tilted her neck from side-to-side to stretch out her soreness before gazing upon it. A quick scan revealed to her what was a simple section of the Alemaneian-Prench border, just north of the Seele Plains, where the Seele River divided the two nations.

She watched Vorschlaghammer’s hoof point to a very specific wooded area.

“Yesterday afternoon, the Border Corps manning their usual outpost spotted a company-size of Prench soldiers that had wandered across the border—this in and of itself is not cause for alarm. Accidental border crossing during patrol routes happen once in a while.
 
“However, this was the fourth time in the span of a single month that we’ve recorded Prench soldiers entering our borders.”

Regenfall nodded, still staring at the map.

“Weiter…” she beckoned further, her thoughts already beginning to stir.

“Despite the frequency, usually these instances go as follows:
 
“Two parties stumble upon each other, they argue and exchange words over where they’re supposed to be, and then once the border area is revealed, there’s usually an apology and everypony goes their separate ways.
 
“Not this time. This time, it was reported that Prench soldiers drew their melee weapons, unicorns lit their horns, and rifle and machine gun teams were set up at the base of our outpost’s hill. A standoff occurred,” he explained.

Regenfall knew a response was implicitly requested, but she insisted on processing the situation for a moment. Still keeping her eyes firmly glued to the map, she stroked her lower lip with her hoof.

“Understood. Go on…” she said.

“Of course, in defense, our own troops drew weapons and shouted at the Prench to stand down and make their way back into their borders.”

Regenfall glanced upwards at Vorschlaghammer.

“Did the Prench say anything?”
 
The General shrugged, shaking his head.

“From the soldiers we interviewed, it’s unclear what they were shouting back at us, as the Prench-speaking troops we have give somewhat differing accounts as to what words were said in the heat of the moment…
 
“What was clear, however, was that a shot rang out. A fifteen-minute firefight ensued.”

Regenfall felt her head shake at how hard she blinked. She snapped her head upward and locked eyes with her general, a combination of fear and anger welling up in her diaphragm.

“What?! Who. Shot. First?” she demanded.

Vorschlaghammer shook his head, his stoicism intact.

“Unknown at this time. Interviewing our troops has proven inconclusive. It’s evenly split between if Alemaneian’s or Prench shot first.”
 
Regenfall blinked once.

“Continue…” she said, hanging on her last syllable as she took a shaky breath.

“Unfortunately, there were casualties. Fourteen of our soldiers lay dead. Twenty more were rushed to hospitals with varying severity of wounds—all of the wounded are expected to make full recoveries. As inappropriate as it may be to say right now, we took the day.”

Regenfall always felt close to the ponies she ruled over, ever since she was a little Princess. Hearing that her ponies came to harm as a result of a questionable accident of a foreign power made her quiver in a rage she never knew she was capable of harboring. 

Her hoof trembled on the table, rattling her cup of tea next to it.

“I see…” she said coolly. “And the Prench? Surely there was information from prisoners?”
 
Vorschlaghammer’s expression did not change. At all.

“That’s… another thing, My Queen…” he began anew. “Our troops wiped out the entire Prench company.”

Regenfall could practically feel her eyes widening to the size of her tea coaster.

“W-Wiped out?!”
 
Vorschlaghammer nodded once.

“Indeed. We counted one-hundred and sixty-five Prench bodies. If there were any survivors, they scattered into the woods back across the border.”

Regenfall took a deep, deep breath, and then exhaled into her seat. She stared down the line of the table, past all of her advisors, officers, and diplomats. She concentrated on the plain wall opposite of her while she could feel her thoughts vying for supremecy over the beat of her heart in her ears.

She simply didn’t know what to think at the moment, and that truly terrified her. Fourteen of her countryponies were dead… she would be personally writing to their families by her own choice, as well as visiting the twenty wounded in the hospital.

It was the absolute least she could do.

At the same time though… an entire Prench company? Gone!

Regenfall exhaled once more, steadied herself, then sat up straight. She brushed her mane out of her vision and righted herself once more. She took a few moments to ruminate and pull apart her individual thoughts had helped her with some direction—she would deal with her own dead. 

There was one thing that was an unknown at this point, however…

She turned back to Vorschlaghammer:

“What of the Prench government and military?”
 
The General cleared his throat.

“That’s why we’ve summoned you, Queen Regenfall. I personally informed Prench high command as soon as we knew about the exchange. I explained the situation as best as I could with the information I had. They noted it down and we were working on the details of repatriating the bodies.
 
“That’s when we got word from the office of Prench Emperor Bouclier. They’re… not exactly happy.”

Regenfall scoffed.

“I can imagine they wouldn’t be!” she said, having made no attempts to veil her sarcasm. “What did the message say?”

“Apparently… the Emperor has barred his diplomats from working with their Alemaneian counterparts. Furthermore, Bouclier is threatening to recall his ambassador if he does not get an audience with you to… ‘settle this matter,’” Vorschlaghammer said.

Regenfall watched as her General placed a piece of paper on the table and pushed it towards her—the official wiring from the ‘Office of His Majesty the Emperor Bouclier of the Prench Empire.’

The anger returned. She could practically feel the second-hand arrogance from the message.

After skimming the words over and ensuring that the gist was the same, Regenfall leaned back into her seat and hissed through closed teeth:

“How dare he! His soldiers violated our borders! And he has the balls to demand an audience with me?! I should wire back a message demanding financial compensation for the families of our fallen!” she spat.

Nachtsicht interjected:

“Your Majesty… while we can do that if it comes down to it, based on the information at hoof, I would recommend meeting with Bouclier as soon as possible.”

Regenfall acknowledged him with a sideways glance, and then turned her attention back to Vorschlaghammer.

He, too, nodded.

“I would also recommend meeting with the Prench Emperor.
 
“Furthermore, we’ve seen no further movement or redeployment of Prench troops along the border. I would consider it a safe option to meet with him.”
 
Regenfall needed little convincing on this—indeed she too wanted to… settle the matter.

She resolutely placed her hoof flat on the table.

“Nachtsicht—please wire the Office of Emperor Bouclier. I agree to a meeting and I formally invite him to the Imperial Palace to… discuss the matter at hand.”
 
Her advisor smirked and nodded tersely.

“It shall be done, My Queen.”
 
She looked back to Vorschlaghammer.

“What’s the status of the military? In the unlikely event that this becomes a wider event, I’d like to know where we stand, please?”

Her top general smirked and nodded.

“Of course, Queen Regenfall. A full mobilization of the peace-trained tranche of the Army would take approximately three weeks to ensure maximum order and ease of transport to the Seele River.”
 
Just to his left, the quiet batpony mare in a Navy Fleet Admiral’s uniform—Flottenadmiral Hochsee—raised her hoof, earning Regenfall’s attention.

“Your Highness, the Fleet of Righteous Unification is combat-ready and able to leave port at your orders. If needed, we can also sail battleships down the Seele River.”

Regenfall nodded once.

“Understood. Thank you kindly, Admiral.”

She then addressed everypony in the room:

“I’d like to thank each and every one of you who sought it fit to seek my thoughts tonight. My decisions have been made and as we move into the next week, I can only hope that this gets resolved swiftly. I have every intention of being cordial in my meeting with Emperor Bouclier…”
 
She held her sentence for a moment, drawing her gaze over her loyal leaders and advisors.

“…but I shall warn you that I won’t be trot over. We’ve dealt with the Prench in the past. We know well that their nobility and leadership looks down upon us as backwater ponies, no matter how nicely they put it.
 
“I just want you all to bear this in mind,” she said.

A unanimous chant was returned with genuine, curt nods.

“Yes, your majesty. Long Live the Queen.”
 






 


[One Week Later]


 







 

She decided to dress her finest today.

Regenfall had met her Prench counterpart many years ago and occasionally had correspondence with him. She knew well that—brilliant as he was—he was one who only responded to strength and an arrogance that matched his own, in her objective opinion at least.

While she would like to not think of herself as too terribly arrogant, her heart told her that she was already a better pony on a multitude of levels than Bouclier. Nevertheless, she opted for her finest, form-fitting blue uniform, shined boots, her red, imperial sash, and all of her medals and lapels as well as her personal crown. 

Strength, after all.

‘Armored up’ in a sense, her medals and adornments clinked and jangled as she walked calculatingly down the final corridor towards a specific meeting room within the palace—she could feel a storm brewing within her as she envisioned what could possibly happen in her small meeting.

She did not anticipate it being long by any stretch… but it would settle a few things in her head about one of Alemaneia’s regional rivals, as well as insight on how to deal with the Prench Emperor going forward. Nachtsicht and her top military leaders had also graciously provided her with their own insight and suggestions.

She would take them to heart… but at the same time, in being true to herself, Regenfall really couldn’t get over how insulted she felt over this whole ordeal.

She approached the unassuming door that held two Royal Guards stationed on either side of it. She cast a glance at both of them, and the one to her right motioned towards the door itself.

“He’s waiting for you inside, My Queen.”

She acknowledged them both with a nod and a lopsided smirk.

“Thank you, Gentlecolts…”

Regenfall placed her booted-hoof flat on the door and had herself a pensive gaze downward. She stared off for the briefest of moments, retreating into her mind to remind herself to leave her emotions at the door.

Even so, Celestia’s words from four years ago echoed in her head:

…do not allow yourself to be a doormat…

After one shaky exhale, she steeled her gaze and her posture.

She turned the knob, then pushed the door open… which heralded her arrival with a gentle creak piercing the silence within. Without paying any mind to who was in the room yet, Regenfall wormed her way inside and shut the door behind her with her hind leg.

She spared a glance behind to make sure the door was sealed shut, and then she turned back towards the center of the room. Waiting for her seemingly on cue was the stallion she hoped to see… and despite what she felt outside this room, she smiled genuinely at her guest.

“Bonjour mon amie…~” came the deep-voiced greeting.

There were no interpreters in the drab room with them—thankfully, Regenfall did not need one:

“L'empereur Prançais honore ma présence!” Regenfall said jovially, extending her right front hoof to her side as she moved towards the room’s center.

As Regenfall met her counterpart halfway beside the lone table in the room, the light from the one windowpane allowed her to get a good look at what she was dealing with:

He had certainly thinned out over the years—and the rather, sharp, angular jaw that existed under his well-maintained and coiffed, auburn facial hair fit him well. Regenfall had to admit, the beard and mustache went well with his cream-colored coat and piercing blue eyes… eyes into which she was able to stare with no problem. She was already on the taller side for an Alemaneian mare, and nearly on par with Bouclier.

That uniform though… a dark gold that almost looked too much like urine in the right lighting—that definitely had to go. Same with his own medals and what she would barely call ‘adornments.’

The Prench had an… odd way of accenting their dress, in her opinion.

With her thoughts having finally caught up to the present, she formally embraced the Emperor in a single, exactly two-second half-hug and a mutual peck on either cheek… as was customary since she could remember.

Regenfall felt Bouclier place his right, gloved hoof on her shoulder.

“It’s been some time! My how you’ve grown after only a few years!”
 
Regenfall internally rolled her eyes, but nevertheless brushed his hoof off her shoulder—she also had to remember that the Prench were a lot more… touchy-feely, even amongst the nobility.

“Indeed! Rulership can certainly age anypony…”

She carefully observed Bouclier back himself up towards the table, while pointing a hoof poignantly at her.

“Right you are, Queen Regenfall!” he said, finding one of the chairs at the table and leaning against it for support before continuing onward:

“It takes a certain type of pony to ensure that we age well under the stresses of our position… and age like fine wine we do! Some of us more…”
 
He playfully winked.

“…beautiful than others.”

Regenfall honestly didn’t know if he made a less-than subtle pass at her… or himself. She internally gagged either way.

Oh, for fuck’s sake…
 
“I concur!” she replied. “Some certainly more beautiful than… others,” she hung on her last word with intent.

The Emperor appeared to understand her tone, as a bout of tense silence reared its head as Regenfall refused to break eye-contact with him.

“I’ve always wondered…” Bouclier said, breaking the silence. “You go by two titles—Empress, and Queen. By your title you are Empress. Yet, you and your subjects refer to yourself as Queen.”
 
He cocked his head, giving Regenfall some measure of genuineness with his random question.

“Why is this?”
 
Regenfall paused for a few moments and made every attempt to read his next ‘move,’ before responding with disbelief:

“I hold two titles—Queen of the Kingdom of Siegstadt, and the Empress of Greater Alemaneia. One may choose to address me by either… surely you should have known this?”
 
The Prench Emperor smiled—Regenfall could practically sense the condescension rolling off of him like a waterfall.

“I see!” he said. “You’ll find, Queen Regenfall… that despite my stature, I’m unaware of a great many things.”

His mood darkened considerably as he idly stroked the top of a chair.

“For… example. I’m unaware of the reasoning—and would like to know—why an entire company of my soldiers is dead…”

Regenfall inhaled deeply, popped her neck on either side, and straightened her posture once the cards had been unceremoniously lain on the table.

There it is.

“Well… I’d like to answer your question with a question of my own!” Regenfall said and stepped forward.

“Why did your soldiers cross into our territory and initiate a standoff? On OUR territory? The arrogance!”
 
Bouclier’s complexion darkened.

“I beg your pardon?!”

Regenfall immediately countered:

“Then beg, Emperor!” she exclaimed, much to Bouclier’s readily apparent shock. 

“Because of your soldiers’ carelessness, fourteen of my soldiers are dead! This is not the first time such incursions have happened! Especially this month!”
 
The Prench Emperor pursed his lips, but his expression became much more stoic from what Regenfall could discern.

“I’m certainly aware of such incidents but I can assure you wholeheartedly that they were accidents, and—” 

Regenfall cut him off immediately with a pointed hoof.

“No, Emperor. One time is an accident. Two times is an accident. Three times is suspicious… four times with casualties is probing.”

Regenfall wasn’t fazed in the slightest when Bouclier got particularly close and felt him peering into her eyes.

“I would suggest you be careful with your words, Regenfall. From how it sounds, it appears you would be accusing me of allowing my soldiers to probe the border for nefarious purposes,” he said.

Regenfall cocked her head, unimpressed.

“Well they certainly weren’t there to bring tea and candy, were they, Emperor?” she asked rhetorically.

She put some distance between the two of them and paced for a few moments as she gathered her next words. The look of hellfire and insult in Bouclier’s eyes was more palpable to her than any Alemaneian delicacy.

“I feel the solution to this is simple,” Regenfall broke the small silence.

“I’m more than willing to throw my own soldiers to the wolves if they even so dare as to purposefully violate our neighbors’ borders without cause. Since you appear to not be willing to do the same, this is what’s going to happen.”
 
Regenfall leveled her stoicism at Bouclier, who returned her gaze with a dark stoicism of his own.

“If such an incident occurs again, I will be directing my troops to respond in kind.”
 
That apparently took Bouclier off guard entirely.

“Wh—Excuse me?! Did I hear you correctly? Are you threatening my country?” he asked plainly.

A voice echoed through Regenfall’s mind and she took a moment to listen to it.

Do not make threats you cannot follow through with.

“Yes.” She plainly said. “I’m threatening you. Violate our national sovereignty again, and expect a measured response.”
 
Regenfall watched as Bouclier nearly doubled over in cackling laughter, though his eyes still harbored complete shock and awe. Perhaps he had never been talked to like this?

Perhaps… she was a little too overzealous in her words?

The hints of uncertainty began to well up in her, and as Bouclier took a few moments to compose himself, Regenfall wondered if she had cast her first major mistake. The Prench were clearly in the wrong but had she been too assertive in her words?

All of this died the moment Bouclier cleared his throat… and Regenfall was subsequently reminded of the sheer arrogance the Prench Emperor exuded:

“Oh my… Regenfall! Are you truly… truly willing to risk an incident, an escalation, and ultimately an all-out war over a potential, future ‘mistake’ that barely registers as a dot on the continental map?!”
 
Regenfall cocked an eyebrow and responded simply with all the conviction that came naturally in her body:

“Are you?”
 
By Bouclier’s now-expressionless silence, Regenfall felt she had made her point.

“Now. I believe this matter has been sufficiently settled.”
 
She turned on her hooves back towards the door before creaking it open and poking her head out.

“My noble Guards, please be so kind as to show the Prench Emperor out?”
> 3. War
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------







 


[Six Months Later…]


 







She had been getting some good mileage out of her lesser exercised hobbies, as of late.

While Regenfall would never hesitate to flex her expertise as a royally trained dancer, orator, or—like now—singer, she only wished that the circumstances to warrant such ‘flexing’ were brighter than of current. Happier times tended to yield much more powerful, enrapturing spells upon her when she would sing her little heart out… much like the times she had performed as a filly for the nobles in packed theaters, to standing ovations.

God, she hated the nobles.

Even so, these were not those times… for the Prench had called her bluff. The whole world quickly found out that the Kaiserin herself had not been bluffing in the slightest.

Despite this, however, she sang.

Despite the declared, open state of conflict that now existed between the Prench and Alemaneian Empires, she sang.

Despite the gentle rain of an early spring on the Prench plains of Mer de Fleurs, she sang.

And despite sitting in a fortified rally point just behind the third-line trenches, her navy-blue uniform being marred with mud and water… 

…all in the middle of the aforementioned plain that was now a partially mangled, cratered, moonscaped shadow of what it once was…

…she sang.

Through every stanza, every chorus of song she let flow expertly bidden from her lips, Regenfall let her eyes fall shut. She let the soft, soothing rhythm of a whimsical, nostalgic song of Alemaneia permeate over the deathly silence… a silence only blighted by the occasional salvo of artillery, or distant burst of a machine gun on the front line.

And at every purposeful, poignant pause, she would open her eyes just enough to take in her audience.

Their muddy, ragged uniforms and helmets from a recent fight… The variety of bloody bandages and bandaging techniques, depending on the severity of any wounds they sustained… The multi-colored sea of faces that managed to pack into this wider section of trench-network, all in various states of attentiveness towards her…

…and ultimately, their eyes:

Their exhausted eyes.

Their tearing eyes.

Their hollow, broken eyes.

Or their fresh eyes.

She also noticed many of them dozing off to her lullaby-esque choice in song, though many of these had already fallen quite asleep… some against the walls of the trench, some curled up amongst themselves, and others leaning blissfully into their comrades. A few greener, fresh troops had joined in as replacements, too, and were just as enraptured.

And she sat right in the center of them all, performing for them… providing whatever she could to her soldiers on the front who were bearing the brunt of Prance’s failed gamble.

The world may have been watching the two empires at the moment. Other world leaders would happily lambast the two nations for beginning a slugfest that threatened to spiral out of control… despite her forces having all the initiative. The Prench Emperor, Bouclier, may have been bellicosely demanding an end to ‘Alemaneia’s unacceptable invasion of their heartland.’

But unlike the world, and those leaders, Regenfall was here…

…singing to her troops.

Well, as many as she could at one time, given the circumstances. Squads and platoons had rotated in and out of the area regularly—this section of the line had been seeing heavy action since the conflict escalated. Hence, she chose this section to visit today, despite the protests of some of her top generals and advisors…

…though they tended to have a conniption every time she wanted to go to the front. Regenfall had to pull rank for them to even let her go to the frontline trench to have a look at Prench positions opposite of them.

She felt at home with her soldiers. She felt, outside of the royal, walled gardens, that this was her home. And so, she would visit her second home as often as she pleased, if only for moments like this…

…to keep spirits high or raise morale among her troops.

She smiled at the thought, once she ended her song by breathing her final lyric.

It was the least she could do.

Regenfall opened her eyes fully after a pointed pause, and ‘returned herself’ to the real world. Her return to solid ground was greeted with soft, tired, but genuine applause and cheers. Her erstwhile soft smile chiseled its way into a proper, glowing beam as her troops—dozens, no hundreds, if one counted the medical dugout nearby—showered her with both verbal and nonverbal praise.

Even a supervising brigadier general on the line seemed to not hesitate in joining in, despite her earlier protests to Regenfall being here and ‘putting her life in danger.’

They were all putting their life in danger.

A private to her right—a cream-coated stallion with a bloody bandage on his shoulder—was the first to properly speak up:

“That was beautiful, my Queen!”
 
Other voices quickly joined in, competing over one another, of which she could only pick out a few responses from the sensory overload.

“Yeah!”
 
“That’s our Empress!”
 
“Thank you, Queen Regenfall!”

Regenfall giggled heartily, partway from flattery, but the rest from the use of her title so close to the action.

“You know you don’t need to use my title right now… we’re equals out here. All of us,” she said. 

Then, in an epiphany, promptly added with a broad gesture of her hoof across her audience:

“In fact, I’d argue all of you are above me. After all, you’re all the ones doing the heavy lifting.”
 
She adjusted her haunches on her wooden box that she sat on all this time—she apparently had lost some feeling to her right flank. Had she been sitting that long?

Regenfall shrugged.

“I simply get to set the goals and make some decisions. And…”

Her words eluded her, though a brief glance around her showed that she still commanded the full attention—and smiles—of her soldiers.

“…I know this may be an awkward way of phrasing this after all I’ve asked of you these past four months, please forgive me… but I… I thank you.”
 
The orator in her returned as powerful feelings welled up in her chest and manifested in two tears. She held her head high as she drew her gaze over her troops.
 
“All of you, my noble warriors. For everything you’ve done for our struggle. And to those who gave everything…
 
“…they… will be taken care of. Their families will be taken care of. May they rest in peace. And the same applies for you, should—heaven forbid—anything happen to you. Again, thank you.
 
“For everything!”
 
It was a solemn moment, one where Regenfall felt she could share a proper heart-to-heart with at least some of her troops.

But they erupted in raucous cheers, much to her startle.

From whence many were on the verge of sleeping to her voice and fatigue, all around her found the energy to contribute to the beautiful wave of bellowing cheering that could only be from genuine, boosted morale. The frontline was probably hearing everything right now.

Regenfall beamed right back at them and offered a sharp salute.

“Yeah!! We’re with you, My Queen! To the end!”
 
“Long Live the Queen!”
 
“Hail Queen Regenfall!”
 
“See?! She’s with us! Our Warrior Queen!”
 
“Long Live the Queen!”
 
“Long Live the Queen!”
 
“Long Live the Queen!”
 
The chanting became synchronized and was almost enough to draw out the sudden artillery salvo fired at the Prench lines. Regenfall was instantly brought back to the first speech she made in the Parliament building… to all her supporters and skeptics in the government, as well as to the civilians in attendance. She remembered how amazing it felt to be genuinely accepted.

She felt the same feeling now… that giddiness that enveloped her entire core and made her feel lighter in her uniform. Suddenly, the drizzle on her face felt that much more prominent as it cooled her coloring cheeks. Her long, flowing mane channeled the occasional gust of wind to her warm head, and fluttered majestically in the breeze behind her… and she deliberately left her crown behind.

Regenfall was smiling so hard, she felt it could somehow radiate brilliantly through the cloudy day.

“Haha! Thank you, my soldiers! As close as we are to achieving our objectives, there is still much work to be done to bring the Prench to heel.”
 
The unnoticeable transition to her oratory side was instant.

“It’s not that they should sue for peace… but that we ensure they never threaten us again!”
 
A young, inquisitive, boyish voice piped up from her immediate left.

“And if I may, My Queen… what are the objectives for that?”

The sudden silence was almost tasty… and in looking left, she found the greenest, freshest looking young stallion she had ever seen. His boyish features stood out like a sore hoof on his pale-coated features, to the point where Regenfall would not fault anyone for questioning his age. Even his helmet—adorned with the lone spike atop it much like every one of his comrades around him—seemed comically large on his head.

She noticed the aforementioned Brigadier General—suddenly fuming—marching forward, but Regenfall thrust a single, imperious hoof towards her, and wordlessly stayed her. Not that she had any problem with her soldiers speaking to her so directly, but she certainly admired the younger confidence, nonetheless.

Regenfall smiled down at him and basted her words in a healthy amount of amusement:

“That—my young warrior—is the right question… how old are you, even?” she asked.

A mix of chuckles erupted from their little crowd at the joke, but Regenfall owed credit where it was due: the young one didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, and only beamed wider.

“Just turned eighteen, Your Highness! Enlisted on my birthday!” he said, snapping to a prideful salute.

Regenfall smiled, then nudged his shoulder jokingly.

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second, young one! Hehe, where’s your mother?”

“Right here, Your Majesty,” came an unexpected, feminine reply from behind the young one.

Regenfall recoiled visibly when a mare—who bore more than passing resemblance to the subject of her little jibes—stepped forth and placed a booted-up hoof around the young stallion… a stallion who looked back up at her with the utmost pride he could muster in his little heart. Their uniforms, from their boots, to their helmets, to their patches were the exact same. They even bore the same rank as one another: Private.

And there were more than a few murmurs from the “audience.”

The Kaiserin raised a tentative, awe-struck hoof. There wasn’t a joking air anymore.

“Y-You’re his mother? You came with him?!”

And apparently it was her turn to be on the receiving end of some amusing sarcasm.

“Well, My Queen, he heard your call to arms and I just couldn’t change his mind. And I knew I’d never stop worrying about him… so I decided to join him and make sure he says out of trouble!”

Regenfall felt… moved, to say the least. But the amusement of the entire situation hit her just as hard. She threw her head back in genuine laughter—much harder than she had laughed, recently. And thankfully, it appeared her troops around her were inclined to join in.

She needed that laugh.

They all did.

But she composed herself and gazed upon this mother-son duo with an extra bit of reverence.

“Incredible… absolutely incredible. May I ask your names?”

The baby-faced stallion spoke up first and saluted once more—he looked positively star-struck, which made Regenfall giggle internally.

“Private Lightning Mist, Your Highness!”

And his mother added her name in kind, with an identical salute:

“Private Morning Mist, My Queen! It’s an honor!”

Regenfall bowed her head deeply. The amount of respect she had for this duo—and all her troops, really—she felt could not be adequately put into words.

Once she raised her head high again, she addressed all her troops once more… a rather pertinent point to make that was very much exemplified by the last few moments:

“No… the honor is all mine. 
 
“And that, my noble warriors, is what I feel truly tells the story of our military forces. This is a family at the front, on their own volition and sense of duty.”

She gazed at everypony in her audience.

“In fact… you all are! You are an all-volunteer army! You are here on your own accord—you are all one family! We are all one family. And I make sure to take care of my family!” she said.

And that’s when she proudly announced:

“On account of an excellent harvest, I’m ordering the doubling rations for the month for the entire army. You’ll need the extra energy when it’s time to storm the Prench staging line.”

Seeing all their faces light up was the only gift she needed this year… but she was quick to shut down any rapturous cheering from her troops so she could get out her final point:

“Once we’re in control of their strongest fortifications, we hold that line and turn their defenses against them. We need not move further!
 
“The Prench—in all their pride and vanity—will throw themselves at us and grind themselves down into a dull shadow of their former effectiveness as a fighting force!”

She could see her soldiers keenly leaning into her words as she outlined the goals she had for waging this war. In her eyes, they deserved that much.

“And that is the goal. When they sue for peace, we’ll let them have this territory back. But only when we get reassurances that they shall never threaten us ever again. It will also be an example to all of the Equidaen continent!”

She brought her words to a crescendo:

“Because the continent must know that Alemaneia is no longer a collection of weak states, kingdoms, and principalities…
 
“…No. We are an empire! And this continent will soon take heed to treat us as such, with the respect we deserve!”

Every single pony in attendance thrust a hoof into the air, and a wave of cheers at her words dwarfed even the sound of another artillery salvo being fired off towards the Prench lines. And even when finished, the cheering from her soldiers continued to uproarious levels.

And that’s how she knew she truly was at her home away from home. Her smile could not physically have gotten any wider without violating the laws of physics by this point… though arguably some ponies were better at that than others. To Regenfall, it also appeared that her smile was contagious, as it fueled the flames of the fire that was the sheer energy of her soldiers in front of her.

At least… until a return-salvo from the Prench lines answered their own.

Regenfall perked her ear up and cocked her head when she heard the telltale sound of enemy shells slamming into the lines further ahead… and she narrowed her eyes when the chattering bursts of machine-gun fire became much more prominent.

A rather uncomfortable silence fell over the troop. Regenfall glanced at the supervising Brigadier General that had been her tour guide for the day… and found her speaking frantically with a runner from the line.

Almost on cue, Regenfall watched her turn towards everypony—her eyes laser-focused. Another Prench salvo made itself known all the while.

“SOLDIERS TO THE FRONT! Prepare to defend against an attack! MOVE MOVE MOVE!”
 
 Her tone brooked no argument—even Regenfall could tell as much. Her soldiers all stood up firmly and began an orderly, wordless march towards the frontline trenches.

“General, is an enemy attack underway?” she asked.

The Brigadier shook her head as she closed ranks with Regenfall.

“Not at the moment. Surveillance from our fliers shows a gathering of enemy troops at the Prench front line that signifies an impending assault. Enemy artillery is also responding more aggressively—likely to provoke our counter-battery fire.
 
“We need to have the forces on-hoof if an attack presents itself.”

Regenfall may not have been a frontline soldier, but she saw a danger in this plan:

“With all due respect, General, if enemy artillery opens up, all these brave souls will be obliterated!”

“The trenches are sufficiently deep, sturdy, and we have enough reinforced enclaves for most our troops to remain in cover under any length and strength of enemy bombardment, Your Highness!”

Regenfall absorbed this information as best as she could, as the cacophony of barking orders her troops marching past her threatened to overtake her thought process. The extra moment to herself hardened her resolve, however.

“Understood… please, take me to the front line.”

The sudden welling of unease in the Brigadier’s face could be read plainly, and was nigh palatable for Regenfall, all things considered.

“Th-That’s not—Your Majesty I have to seriously advise against and lodge my formal protest against such a—”

Regenfall rolled her eyes. She didn’t have time for this anymore, nor did she feel she could stomach it.

“That’s fine, General. My soldiers will show me the way, thanks,” she said, then half-assed a salute before mingling in with the river of soldiers making their way forward.

Regenfall ignored the frantic pleas from her General that she left behind, and they were drowned out by the chatter and yelling as she moved farther away and towards the front. Her ‘mingling’ was likely a poor choice of words in her mind, as the moment her more ‘regal’ presence was made known, her soldiers parted completely let her through.  Any and all chatter would die down considerably as she passed—determined expression plastered on her face—towards the front line…

…among all the surprised, bewildered, and bemused words exchanged regarding the Alemaneian Queen hoofing her own way to the firing line.

But as she soon let on to everypony around her, if these reports of potential action on the front were to be believed, now was not the time for awestruck-ness and reverence. Her words were further forged and alloyed at the sight of wounded, the dying, and dead ponies being brought behind the lines from the enemy artillery strike mere minutes ago:

“On your hooves, warriors! Time for gawking is not a luxury we can currently afford! To the front!”
 
The response was—however—unanimous:

“YES, YOUR HIGHNESS! LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!”

Her resolve was hardened even further.

I need to see this… I need to be a part of this.
 
And in a blur, she found herself at the firing trench, gazing stoically—laser-focused—as she decided what she would do. Her soldiers lined up and took cautious peeks over the parapet. Machine-gunners went about loading their massive weapons behind their shields and eyed the enemy lines with extra scrutiny.

Rifle teams all loaded their weapons and aimed them tentatively towards the Prench lines. Unicorns stood at the ready to lend magical support.

It was all so surreal to Regenfall… how perfectly, and seemingly choreographed her professional army deployed to general quarters. While she had been to the firing trenches a few times over the last couple months, there certainly had never been a threat of an impending, enemy assault.

She could not have been prouder—even those who were aware of her presence stood their ground and held their posts. The barking of various orders from an even greater variety of voices bombarded her ears and her senses.

It was only a familiar voice that brought her out of her trance:

“My Queen! I-I think you may wish to see this…” came the boyish tone of Lightning Mist.

Regenfall homed in on him as he made a small-enough space for her to climb up and peek over the parapet, and she was keen on taking it.

“And what might that be, young soldier?”

Before she could, however, the soldier next to him—seemingly a lieutenant from the rank insignia she was able to catch on his shoulder—waved her over towards the periscope he was looking through.

“Right here, Your Highness… take a look towards the section of the Prench line where I’m aiming,” he offered.

As he stepped down from the parapet, Regenfall took her first hoof towards the periscope, and lined up her eyes.

As if she was looking herself, she could see a wide expanse of the enemy trench network, and as if looking into a mirror universe, found Prench soldiers—quite distinctive with their own brand of helmets—cautiously peeking back towards her. The barrels of loaded, enemy machine guns were pointed right in the direction of her own line… ready to rain death quash any attempt at crossing the half-way cratered sea of flowers between them.

But then again, her line was equally as prepared—if not more so in her completely unbiased and objective opinion.

The previous observations were not what drew her attention the most, however. Rather, it was the central pony in a group of high-ranking Prench soldiers who were bravely looking, completely exposed over their parapet. The group were staring back towards her general area through a shared set of binoculars.

Regenfall suddenly felt herself bristle. She could feel the second-hand arrogance from here.

“Bouclier?!” she exclaimed to nopony.

That name, however, certainly had a resounding effect on her troops around her.

“The Prench Emperor?!”
 
“The enemy Emperor is here?!”
 
“Bouclier is among them!”
 
“To arms! The enemy King is here!”

It also became readily apparent that Regenfall’s supposed ‘handler’ in the form of the Brigadier General had caught up to her.

“My Queen! I must ask you to step back from—”

Regenfall ignored exhortations entirely, if only by the fury that overtook her body and blinded the rest of her senses from the world around her. Her gaze remained fixated on the opulently dressed Bouclier, several hundred meters away. His pretentious gaze as he spoke to his officers on either side of him just… did something to her. Ever since their fateful meeting in her palace over half a year ago, she detested the sight of him—even more so now that their nations were in a state of open war…

…a war he started.

As her ears figuratively turned inward and focused on the thoughts marinating around in her mind, Regenfall was brought back to how often Bouclier’s office had attempted to make contact with her after the outbreak of hostilities. She rebuffed or outright ignored all incoming requests for an audience from him—her objectives had been set, after all. And she would see them through.

…but the reckless young mare inside her wanted to have her say in all this, on her terms. Perhaps she would be willing to have an audience with him.

But on equal ground.

Regenfall brought herself back to reality, turned the periscope back over to the gracious lieutenant, and placed her boot-clad hoof against the firm mud of the trench wall. Such a gesture evoked more than a passing anxiousness and confusion from her surrounding soldiers.

“Ummm… My Queen…?”

Satisfied with her hold, she steeled herself—her heart smashing its powerful hooves within the confines of her ribcage—and hoisted herself up completely over the parapet.

Her four hooves didn’t even make contact with the ground of no-pony’s land before an immediate, horrified uproar of voices made themselves known from behind her.

“What the FUCK?!”

“NO! QUEEN REGENFALL! NO!”
 
No… I need to do this.

Her response to all her soldiers literally screaming at her—and immediately saddling up to follow her—was to hold her left hoof back outstretched. While staring dead ahead at Bouclier and his posse, she channeled every ounce of her iron regality into that hoof. She held back the entire wave of hundreds, and potentially thousands of her own troops by sheer force of will.

She couldn’t imagine what was going through their minds… but Regenfall didn’t have the brainpower to devote to it as she slowly, steadily marched forward. She angled her face determinedly towards Bouclier, and she could feel the intensity and ferocity of which her eyes burned. 

She focused only on him. 

Every step closer awoke something in her… every time she felt her boots sink into the soppy ground after parting the flowers beneath her did her resolve harden.

And by the time Regenfall was a third of the way to the enemy lines, she was able to make out Bouclier and his high-ranked group suddenly whip their gazes towards her in abject surprise. She even saw the emperor himself run his hoof over his gaze, as if she would have vanished like the apparition of his worst nightmare.

Those thoughts calmed her nerves… Regenfall knew exactly what she was doing. She knew the danger she was placing herself in. She knew the consequences of a single Prench soldier taking extra initiative and putting a bullet in her head… especially since she could hear the commotion of the enemy line reacting to her presence in kind.

She placed all the faith that they wouldn’t, though. Because the moment she collapsed from any harm done unto her, the entire enemy line would be eviscerated. Of this, Regenfall was confident, as she took a final step towards the almost-exact center of no-pony’s land.

The silence was deafening… and nopony but the wind kept her company as it whipped through her mane. Her fitted navy-blue uniform was just adequate enough where it barely kept her insulated enough from the cool morning air and the gentle drizzle. And yet, her hooves remained firmly planted in the earth.

And her eyes bore directly into Bouclier’s from the distance. Wordlessly, she transmitted her icy message to him as both armies watched with collective, bated breath.

“Meet me. Now.”

She could feel Bouclier’s wordless, icy stare meeting her own. And with her stopping just before she’d enter ‘Prench lines,’ she felt her invitation was quite clear and forthcoming. He could take as much time as he needed—Regenfall felt more than content enough to just stare at him with a silent fury until he complied. By her sheer force of will yet again, would she compel the Prench Emperor to meet her on the field of battle to properly have a chat about the ‘situation.’

And from a distance, it appeared that Bouclier had caught on to Regenfall’s idea. She saw him drop his guard, lift his head high, and nod once—deeply—towards her. She then watched him hand off the binoculars to his closest officer, and then gestured with his hoof towards somepony in the trench to his right.

She felt it slam into her.

A hollow, metallic ringing noise echoed in her ear as her lungs evacuated themselves in sheer surprise. So much so, she barely caught the rapport of the rifle-shot ring out over the field. She cried out curtly, and shrilly at what felt like the hoof of Celestia herself punching her full-force, yet slightly off-angle on the left side of her chest. She stumbled over herself as a result of the impact…

…and her entire body and face were acquainted with the muddy earth in the shallow crater she fell into—just beside where she could’ve sworn she was standing.